Long Road to Mercy

Chapter 21

A little girl. Beckoning to her.

A small hand held out to provide assistance.

A whisper of urgency.

Hurry, Lee. Come on. You’re in trouble. Come on. Quick now, Lee.

Pine came to as quickly as she had fallen unconscious. She pushed the deflated air bag and side curtains out of the way and saw in the rearview mirror flames creeping her way.

The commingled scents of burning plastic and upholstery were nauseating.

She could smell escaped fuel and knew that the impact had cracked the gas tank.

The image of her sister calling to her slowly faded.

Lee, instead of Atlee. That was what Mercy had always called her. The truncated name had stuck growing up. She was Lee Pine until she went to college.

For some reason, she had not minded the change back to Atlee. The name Lee represented her past. And right now Pine wasn’t sure she had much of a future.

She undid her harness and looked across at the passenger seat.

Ben Priest was slumped against the door, a thin trickle of blood running down his forehead.

In the backseat, Ed Priest was moaning and holding his shoulder.

Pine tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The impact had jammed it. She slid into the backseat, reached across Ed, and opened the door. She unharnessed him and pushed the injured man out of the truck, as the flames crept closer.

She could feel the heat over every inch of her. It was fierce and made her skin tingle. Any second and the fumes in the cracked gas tank could ignite. And then in a flash of flames and vapor ignition it would all be over. They would collect her scattered remains in a trash bag.

Her boots hit the dirt and she pulled Ed away from the truck.

Ignoring the danger, she ran back to the flaming truck, yanked open the passenger seat door, unharnessed Ben, and pulled him free. She lifted the tall man over her shoulder and fast-walked him away from the truck before laying him next to his brother.

Next, she crouched, pulled her gun, and looked around. Whatever had hit them must still be out there. She wiped away blood from the side of her face and with her free hand she called 911 and requested assistance, giving her location as specifically as she could.

She looked at her watch. It was nearly ten o’clock. She had no idea how long it would take for the local cops to show.

The explosion lit the night, and Pine ducked down as debris from the Ford sailed through the air. Parts of the truck crashed down all around them.

Ed Priest suddenly cried out.

She scuttled over to him and saw a piece of metal sticking out of his upper arm.

It was a part of the trim from the Explorer. It had pierced his skin like a fired arrow and the wound was bleeding heavily.

She took off her jacket and wrapped it tightly around the wound. She didn’t attempt to take out the piece of metal. That might cause a gusher of blood if it had grazed an artery.

“Help’s coming,” she said.

He nodded and lay back on the ground, groaning.

And then Pine saw the headlights.

Not from the ground.

But in the air.

The chopper swiftly shed altitude, its searchlight delicately probing the ground like a snake’s tongue before coming to rest first on Pine and Ed. Then it found the still unconscious Ben Priest and held there.

It landed barely fifty feet away, its prop wash pummeling them and providing more oxygen to the burning truck, fanning the flames and smoke all over the road.

Another mini explosion occurred, causing Pine to momentarily duck before returning her attention to the chopper. She studied its silhouette and its blade configuration.

“What’s happening?” groaned Ed.

“Just keep still and quiet,” she whispered back, her gaze steady on the chopper.

Pine reached into a small compartment attached to her shoulder holster and pulled out her laser sight. She clipped it to the top of her gun’s Pic rail and lined up her shot on the aircraft’s main prop assembly.

And then her target changed as the chopper doors on the left opened and two figures in body armor and combat helmets climbed out. Both carried M16s, with laser sights. These guys were ready for war.

Seeing this, Pine lowered herself to the ground, spread-eagled, making her target silhouette as small as possible. But she knew this was no longer a fight on equal terms, if it ever was.

Her Glock and backup Beretta had no chance against a weapon that was designed for max firepower and resulting death on a battlefield. A torso or head shot from a combat weapon was pretty much not survivable. It didn’t wound; it made organs disappear.

She decided she might as well give it a shot. She called out, “FBI. Identify yourselves or I will open fire.”

Neither of them made any indication that identification would be forthcoming.

Instead, one of them threw something toward her.

She put her head down and told herself it would be over in a second. No pain. Just... nothing.

Another part of Pine kissed her ass good-bye.

Still another part of her cursed that she was going to die without even knowing why.

The thrown object hit the ground. There was a flash of light and an explosion.

And once more Atlee Pine’s world went dark.