Crank moved along the side of the hill. The snow wasn’t deep, but he had to move carefully to avoid the crunch of his boots sinking into the powder. At least he didn’t have to worry about dry leaves crackling underfoot.
When he thought he’d moved far enough away from the cabin, he began to creep up the hill, staying low. He wasn’t wearing a coat, to avoid the noise it made while moving, and was wet from his slide down the hill, so he was freezing. The temperature was probably in the upper twenties or lower thirties, and the cold was sapping his strength, but he forced himself to keep moving. He was staying as low as possible because his dark jeans and heavy denim shirt stood out plainly against the white blanket of snow.
He could just see the cabin through the trees, and he scanned the forest ahead of him, looking for any sign of Silas. He saw nothing, and he faded into an evergreen to break up his shape while he tried to figure out what to do.
Silas was incredibly dangerous. If Silas saw him moving through the trees, he was dead. But on the other hand, he couldn’t wait forever for Silas to make his move either. Eventually, the cops were going to show up to find out what happened to the deputy, and when they did, that would surely spook Silas, and he’d disappear.
Fuck, fuck fuck! Crank chanted silently to himself, caught between the preverbal rock and a hard place. He settled down against a tree where he could watch where he suspected Conrad was, and still keep the cabin in sight on his right. By now Silas had to have realized that he’d slipped away somehow, or had decided to hunker down in the house and try to wait him out.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see if Silas had tried to call and then immediately put it back. It was smashed, the screen crazed, from his fall down the hill.
With a silent sigh, he waited, the rifle across his legs, trying to decide what to do.
***
Lana sat with her back to the kitchen cabinets, staring at the door, her service pistol in her hand and one of the two Glocks her dad owned lying on the floor beside her so she could do a New York reload. She had a clear line of fire to the door, and if anyone other than Crank came through there, they were a dead man. She’d left Crank’s pistol and her dad’s other pistol upstairs to give her a place to retreat to if she needed to.
She didn’t know what had happened to Crank after she saw his fingers disappear from the deck. It was a hell of a drop from the deck to the ground, and she hoped he hadn’t snapped an ankle or something worse. The temptation to run to the deck and look over the edge to make sure he wasn’t hurt was almost more than she could bear, but she would be fully exposed out there, so she swallowed her apprehension.
She was nearly frantic with worry, concerned for herself, but even more so for Crank. He was out there, facing down a madman with a gun who was bent on their destruction, trying to protect her. She’d started to call the police three times, but each time she stopped before completing the call. She was torn between her worry for Crank and the fear that if Silas got away, they’d never have peace.
She willed her tears away again. Everything had been so wonderful. The shootings at home had stopped, and she had found the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. They had spent a blissful couple of months alone, almost as if they were the last two people on earth, seeing other people only when they went into town for supplies.
Lana sniffed and wiped her eyes in frustration and anger. He’d said he loved her, and she had seen the truth in his dark, warm eyes. And now Silas fucking Conrad had turned up and ruined it all. If he hurt Crank, it would be her life mission to track that asshole down and see that he paid. Her tears faded as her rage again swelled within her, and she tightened her grip on her weapon.
“Come on you bastard,” she whispered, glaring at the door, daring Silas to open it. If he did, her justice would be swift, harsh and final.
***
Crank continued to sweep the area where Silas had to be, his gaze always traveling, trying to catch even the slightest hint of movement. The human eye was attracted to movement, which is why he’d become still himself. Until Silas moved, he wasn’t likely to see him, and he might not see him even then. This was very much Silas’s game and Crank was very aware he was severely outclassed. Silas was the cat, and he was the mouse.
If he’d been thinking, he’d have told Lana to wait an hour, then call the cops. That might have flushed Silas, and maybe he could have taken him then. He’d probably go to prison, but that was a price he was willing to pay to protect Lana. Or, if Silas was dug in and undercover, he might just have waited them out. There were no sure winning moves in this most deadly of games.
Crank smiled as he thought of Lana. She loved him. He’d seen hints; the way she would sometimes look at him, the softness of her smile, but he hadn’t been sure. He’s always been a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy, and didn’t know what to expect from a relationship. He didn’t know the right time to say I love you, and he’d been nervous.
His lips formed a thin line. He was willing to charge into the woods after a guy with a gun that was trying to kill him, but he’d been afraid to say those three little words… I love you. What a chickenshit he was. If they got out of this alive, not a day would pass without him saying it, without him telling her just how he felt.
He heard movement ahead and a little to his right, his gaze instinctively going toward the noise. It was probably nothing. The woods were alive with deer and squirrels. They’d seen several deer and more squirrels than they could count in the past two months, so it was probably just an animal, but he watched, unblinking, his gaze never moving, as he tried to pick out what had made the sound.
***
Silas watched the cabin through his scope. Crank wasn’t answering his calls anymore and had decided to stay inside. Probably to wait on the cops.
He grimaced in frustration. It had taken two months to track them down. He’d spent weeks watching their homes and the police station, trying to pick one or the other up, but they never appeared again. Somehow they’d give him the slip.
It was that fucking Crank, he just knew it. His gang had disappeared as well, and he was left holding his cock. He could feel them slowly tightening the noose. He’d abandoned his motel and started sleeping in his car, afraid that the cops or the Legion would find him. Finally, in desperation, he’d followed the old cop that was working with Winters to his home.
It had been risky, but Silas was out of options. He’d spent a couple of days watching and then had burst in on them this morning during a birthday party. The old fart was tough, he would give him that. He’d beat Ed to near unconsciousness, and he still wouldn’t tell him where Lana had gone. It wasn’t until he put his knife blade to the throat of youngest that he broke.
He’d duct taped the rest of the family’s hands, feet and mouths and tossed them into a bedroom, making sure everyone present knew that so long as Ed wasn’t lying to him, everyone would be reunited safely in a few hours.
Once they were secured, he’d hustled Ed and his grandson, Michael, out to the car. Taking them was a risk, but he needed insurance against Ed lying to him, and the kid was leverage. He also didn’t trust Ed to not be able to get away on the two-hour drive if he’d left him taped up at home. He’d walked them to the car, the knife in his hand a threat, then taped up Ed and Michael’s hands and feet, before they had a nice drive to North Carolina.
Leaving Ed bound in the car, he’d taken Michael and walked up the drive far enough to see Crank’s pickup, then returned to his car. Ed had been good to his word, Silas had driven several miles farther out into the boonies, cut their feet free, and tossed them out.
But now, Crank was turtled up inside the cabin, and he was going to have to pry him out. If the cops showed up now, he would lose them again, and he didn’t want that.
He rose and began to circle around to the front of the house. The geography was all wrong, with the slope falling away from the house, but to try to go through the one door was suicide. Crank was surely just inside, and the moment the doorknob turned, he’d probably open up. Silas was going to climb up onto the deck, if he could, or see if there was a tree he could scale. Not an ideal shooting platform, but in this close, he could make it work.
***
Crank heard movement a little farther right, and his gaze quickly shifted toward the new sound. He stared but could see nothing. Then he saw it, a flicker of movement in the trees before the shape disappeared again. His gaze remained fixed, knowing if he looked away he’d lose it. Whatever it was, it was far too big to be a squirrel.
The outline moved again, and Crank squinted. It could be a deer, but he wasn’t sure, so he continued to watch. The shadow moved one more time, and now he could tell it was a man. He snapped the rifle up but didn’t fire.
The man wasn’t that far away, maybe eight yards, but the angle was awkward, he was shaking with cold, and he was shooting at the man’s profile. He brought the rifle down and waited, tucking his hands under his arms and against his body for warmth. One or two more steps and Silas would be in a better place to take the shot.
He had him now; his outline painted against the thinning trees of the cabin clearing. Silas obviously didn’t know he was there or Crank would be dead, so he had to be patient, and more importantly, still and quiet.
Silas took another step, then another, moving silently. If Crank hadn’t been so close, he would have never heard him. In fact, he only heard about one step in five or six, and he wondered how far Silas had come before he did hear him. The man moved like a wraith. Another step. Silas’s attention was totally focused on the cabin and with each step, his back became more and more exposed as he moved.
Crank smiled as he ever so slowly and quietly drew his leg up, forming a modified tripod to help steady the rifle. Bracing on his knee, the gun’s strap wrapped around his arm, he drew a bead on Silas’s back… and smoothly squeezed the trigger.
***
Lana jumped with the roar of gunfire, her hand coming up and covering her mouth. She gripped her face as she whimpered; fighting tears of terror, not knowing if the man she loved was dead or alive.
She wanted to fling the door open and run outside, to call to Crank, the not knowing almost worse than dying. She sniffed as she bumped her head against the cabinet, mewling softly in fear. She pulled her hand from her mouth and hardened her resolve, bringing her weapon up and pointing it at the door, her eyes as hard as diamonds.
***
Silas went down, and Crank ratcheted the lever on the Winchester, ejecting the spent shell and pumping a new one into the chamber. He waited a moment, to see if Silas would rise, but he didn’t. He brought the weapon down from his shoulder and slowly rose, his legs stiff with cold, his gaze never leaving the spot where Silas had fallen.
Moving in a combat crouch, knees bent and his weapon at his shoulder, Crank began to move toward where he’d seen Silas fall, the need for quiet now eliminated. He was certain he’d hit Silas, but whether he was mortally wounded or not remained to be seen. As he approached, Silas popped up on his knees, apparently unhurt and began to bring his rifle up.
Surprised he’d missed, Crank fired again. He couldn’t miss at this range, and Silas tumbled back as his rifle flew from his hand. He worked the lever again, holding his position, then began to approach more carefully.
Again Silas rose, but this time he turned and ran away from him. Crank was so surprised that Silas was moving he fired again, but his shot was rushed, and he missed. He quickly ratcheted the weapon and tracked Silas.
Another shot, and another miss.
“Fuck!” Crank barked as he began to charge through the woods after Silas. Long range shots were Silas’s forte, not his, especially on a moving target, but he couldn’t see how he’d missed the first two times.
He saw Silas through an opening in the trees, and he stopped, planted, and fired. Silas went down, again, but after a moment he was back up and running.
Armor, Crank’s mind screamed.
The .30-30 round would penetrate any normal body armor, but if Silas was wearing Type IV armor, the same armor he wore in combat to defeat military weapons fire, he could shoot him with the relatively low powered .30-30 round all day, and the embedded steel plates would protect Silas from mortal harm.
He had one more shot, and he would have to hit him somewhere other than the center of mass for the bullet to penetrate. That was going to require him to get in closer to have a chance. Carrying the gun in his hand, he charged through the trees after Silas, the limbs and branches slapping and tearing at his flesh.
Crank chased Silas through the woods, scrambling and stumbling down the ridge. He was panting hard, and his face was stinging from a myriad of tiny scratches caused from his plunge through the thicket of the forest, but he was gaining on him.
Silas fell, and Crank put on a turn of speed, trying to close the distance. As Silas rose, Crank stopped, planted, and fired.
“Shit!” He’d been aiming for Silas’s head but had obviously missed. He chased after him again. His weapon expended, it was about to get caveman because he and Silas were down to rocks and clubs.
***
Lana whimpered again as a rifle barked a second time, then after a moment, a third. There were two more shots in succession then silence. She waited, her heart hammering in her chest, tears leaking from her eyes. She wiped at the tears with her hand, but her gaze never moved from the door. As the silence lengthened, she sniffed and chewed her lips, to keep herself from weeping, but kept her pistol pointed at the door and waited, wondering which man would come through the opening.
The rifle cracked again, and the silence returned. That was six shots—the number of shells in the carbine. If all the shots were Crank’s, he was not defenseless. She sat, staring at the door, her thudding heart still loud in her ears, silently praying for Crank and his safe return.