The Girl With The Gun (Sydney Rye Book 8) Page 8

  The tires droned, the engine was steady, and the night was still.

  My admission was heavy in the air even an hour later. Zerzan knew about grief. It must have been a similar catalyst that sent her to the front lines. For women like us territory could not be the sole motivator. The safety of those we loved and revenge for those we lost was what drove us into battle.

  How could we find more women like us? Women who would be willing to give their lives to send men to hell?

  The Daesh fighters had a book, a religious zealotry that gave them incredible power—a god who, in their minds, sanctioned their violence.

  The weapon we had against them—their own belief that dying by a woman's hand barred them from the heaven they so desperately wished to enter—was powerful, but not inspiring.

  Joyful Justice's ranks were filled with women who fought for their own freedom, their own revenge. It was all very personal. How do you make somebody else's fight personal?

  I was here, sitting in this truck with a woman I'd just met, heading back to a military compound where I could very well lose my life, or my freedom, in the hope of helping her cause.

  But I didn't wish this life on anyone else.

  Recruiting women to come and live like this, with this ball of anger as their constant companion, wasn't noble. It was cruel.

  My mother's face filled my mind’s eye. The way she looked when I was young, before my father passed. When she was the happy mother of two happy kids, the wife of a man she loved.

  That woman was gone. As gone as my murdered brother. She died with my father; she drowned in a bottle— Debra Humbolt was reborn a fire-and-brimstone preacher's wife. Her religion saved her body and destroyed our relationship.

  She thought James was in hell because he was gay. She thought her daughter, Joy, was dead ... probably figured she was in hell too.

  And maybe I was. Maybe this life I lived was hell.

  Another set of headlights appeared, coming toward us, and Zerzan and I both stiffened. "Who's that?" I asked.

  “I have no idea."

  Chapter Eight

  From the height of the headlights, it was probably military. It wasn't a sedan out for an evening drive through disputed territory.

  Suddenly, white heat ballooned under the vehicle and it rocketed into the air. Tires exploded off as the squat body of a hummer was revealed in the bright light of the bomb.

  Zerzan slammed on the breaks and threw the truck into park, grabbing her rifle. "Get out!"

  I opened my door; Blue and I jumped out, Zerzan tumbling after us.

  The hummer landed on its side and flipped across the center of the road, finally settling on its roof in the dirt. Orange, blue, and white flames spat out of the undercarriage, reaching for the stars.

  Zerzan hunkered next to the truck and I crouched beside her.

  A tire wobbled down the center of the road followed by a hot rush of wind smelling of burning plastic, roasting flesh, and gasoline.

  The Humvee's gas tank ignited, completely engulfing the vehicle in a thundering whoosh of flames. Chalky black smoke blossomed into the night. This was an ISIS attack and the attackers were likely still nearby.

  "If they see we are women,” Zerzan said. “They will try to take us rather than kill us."

  "What if they blow up the truck before they see that we are women?"

  "If they had the weapons for that, they would have already done it."

  "Comforting."

  Dark figures came down from the hills and circled around the fire. They were shouting to each other, celebrating. The valley amplified the sound so that we could hear them over the loud sputtering of the flames.

  Blue touched his wet nose to my shoulder and let out a low growl. I followed his gaze toward the rear of the truck but didn't see any movement.

  Zerzan whispered. "They are trying to distract us. More will come."

  "I think they're here."

  Blue's hackles raised and his lips pulled back from his teeth.

  Zerzan raised her rifle in the direction Blue indicated.

  Boots jogging on the dirt shoulder.

  "Stay close," I told Blue. They might want to take women, but I was sure they would have no problem killing dogs.

  "Pretend to be injured," Zerzan said.

  I grabbed my ankle and let out a moan, pitching it high so that it would be clear I was a woman, one in distress.

  Zerzan pressed her eye into the site of the rifle. She fired, the bang was followed by a thump as a body fell into the dirt.

  With only a handgun, I had no chance of hitting moving targets in the dark at that distance.

  Zerzan's weapon blasted again, twice. A yelp of pain.

  Zerzan laid her rifle down and unsheathed the knife at her waist.

  "What are you doing?" I whispered.

  "Out of rounds."

  Staying low, Zerzan moved alongside the truck. I gestured for Blue to go under the vehicle behind me where he would be hard to see, and safer from stray bullets.

  Zerzan disappeared around the back of the truck and I waited, my ears straining to hear movement.

  The low moans of one of Zerzan's victims echoed in the valley, making it hard to judge his distance.

  Blue growled and I glanced at him. The fighters who had been celebrating by the Humvee were moving down the road toward us, still laughing and chatting with each other, their gate a slow jog.

  They didn't look worried about taking out two women. I felt a smile spreading across my face. They were all going to die.

  Turning back toward the rear of the truck I could make out black shapes in the darkness. I waited, saving my bullets for when I had a clear shot.

  Our truck's headlights, while facing in the opposite direction, illuminated the night enough that I could make out the men's shapes and see that they each held a rifle.

  From the bulk of their clothing, it appeared they were wearing bulletproof vests and so I waited another moment until the three of them were almost at the truck's back bumper before raising my gun in a smooth motion, aiming at the one in the center and firing a bullet into his face.

  The man's head jerked back and a bolt of lightning zigzagged across my vision. I moved my pistol to the left and shot again. I missed.

  Zerzan leapt from the back of the truck landing on the man closest to her. The one I'd missed was coming at me fast, his body hunched around his gun, making the target of his face very difficult to find so I just shot at the center of him. The bullet hit and he twisted but didn't go down, stumbling forward, almost upon me.

  I fired again, this time hitting his helmet. At that close range it penetrated the metal and he fell forward and splayed at my feet, the rumble of thunder booming.

  Zerzan had slit the throat of her victim; his neck was spewing blood in an arc as she held him in front of her, using him as a shield against the men who approached from the other direction.

  They were running now. I grabbed the body at my feet and hauled it in front of me.

  The transport truck shook with the impact of bullets. The five men approaching from the front had learned from their friends’ demise; the two women they were trying to capture were not going to go down easily.

  They were running full bore, firing at will, not aiming, just pulling the trigger. Blue scooted in behind me, both of us protected by the dead body.

  I didn't have enough bullets to make many mistakes.

  The first fighter to run out of rounds stopped his charge and began to reload.

  He was still too far away to hit.

  Zerzan was crouched down holding the jacket of the man she'd killed, keeping him in front of her. Her eyes were bright and there was a smile on her face.

  The four men still running at us shot the truck as though it were their enemy.

  A few more seconds and they'd be close enough for me to hit them.

  I sucked in deep breaths, the stench of blood, smoke, and gasoline thick in the air. Adrenaline raced through my veins,
lending me power and energy.

  No pain in my ankle, no fear in my breast, no grief; I was pure action, nothing to live for, no thought of dying. There was no past and no future. Just that moment. Just each breath.

  The first man stepped within my range and stopped on the road almost as if he was trying to be easier to shoot. As he took out the clip of his rifle, I rested my right forearm on the shoulder of the dead man in front of me.

  I couldn't get a clear shot with the truck in the way and so I stood up, no longer shielded by the dead body, and moved toward the front of the truck.

  The fighter saw my movement and our eyes touched for a moment before I put a bullet into his brain. The other men saw me too and I ducked back behind the truck, using one of the big tires as protection.

  Blue stayed flat on the ground, leaning hard into the dead body

  Bullets shook the truck and I waited.

  When the firing subsided slightly I peered under the truck to see one of the men had lowered his weapon to reload. Dropping onto my stomach I rolled under the vehicle and fired at him.

  The bullet struck him in the thigh; blood bloomed on his pants as he fell to his knees with a scream. The pavement in front of me exploded, chunks of it flying into my face.

  Ignoring the debris I aimed at the man's face. His head flipped back and he landed on the road, lying still.

  Three left. Two close enough to hit. I shot one knee and the man tripped forward. As he fell, I shot the second one in the thigh.

  They were both on the road grabbing at their wounds. Pop, one head flipped back. I took aim at the second man. His weapon was aimed at me. I pulled my trigger right before he did. His body fell back, his gun arced skyward releasing bullets into the air. It continued to fire, shaking his corpse, until the clip emptied.

  There was one man left and he stood in the road, surveying the carnage for only a second before turning and running back toward the burning Humvee.

  Footsteps pounded on the blacktop and Zerzan came into view, sprinting after him. I stood up and raced around the truck to watch her. She was nuts, chasing down a man with a machine-gun carrying only a knife. She was also really fast. The man, weighted down by his bulletproof vest and unwieldy rifle, was too slow.

  He turned and looked back at her when she was still too far away to touch him.

  He brought his gun around. The pavement to Zerzan's left exploded. Then bullets took chunks of the road right in front of her. Only a few paces from him, she leapt and flew through the air straight for his neck, knife point out.

  He fired his weapon into the hillside as he opened his arms, looking as though he planned to embrace her. They fell to the ground, Zerzan on top, and thunder boomed through my mind as lightning sizzled across my vision.

  ***

  The knife was her father's. It had a bone handle and a pointed blade that was serrated half way down. Zerzan showed it to me, turning the weapon over in her hand, as she rinsed off the blood. The blade caught the light from the Humvee fire and lightning flickered off of it. I blinked, trying to clear it.

  "How did you know he wouldn't shoot you?"

  "I didn't." Zerzan's attention stayed on the weapon in her hands. "My father always told me that it was important to be brave but that it could get you killed. I am not like these men." Zerzan gestured with her knife, water spraying off the tip. "I do not think there is heaven waiting for me. I do not believe that once I am gone, I'll meet some type of greater glory. This..." She looked up at me, seeing if I understood what "this" meant: this place, this plane of existence, this life. I nodded. "This is all it will ever be and so I don't think that God protects me, but I do think that something does. I am not afraid to die. But I do not think a man with a gun will kill me."

  "What do you think will kill you?"

  "I don't know, but not one of these men. Their beliefs are what keep me safe. To them, I am the Tigress. I am an otherworldly being whom they cannot kill. And so." She shrugged. "I cannot die at their hands."

  The truck was destroyed. The tires blown out, the engine riddled with bullets. So we had to walk. We gathered our supplies out of the bed and started again toward the military compound. The Humvee continued to burn but the flames did not reach as high.

  "Won't someone come looking for whoever was in there?"

  "Yes, maybe they will give us a ride."

  As we approached the burning vehicle, I tried to see through the smoke and identify how many bodies were inside. But the interior was shrouded by the thick plumes of smoke.

  We gave the burning wreckage a wide berth. Blue sneezed and shook himself.

  The moon rose and the clouds parted, lighting our way. My hands were shaking slightly from the adrenaline rush. I gripped one of the rifles we'd taken off the dead men to steady myself.

  Zerzan had a machine gun on her back and carried another, same as me. We'd reloaded them and taken the extra rounds that we found. I had briefly looked at the faces of the dead men; they were young, very young. One of them barely could grow a beard. It was horrifying that this is what they'd chosen.

  I know some people feel the same about me. That I chose violence as a path to justice undoes any good my actions may cause. Those dead men believed in their cause the same way I believe in mine. The same way Zerzan believes in hers. Such unbending beliefs are wreaking havoc on our world, but I don't know how to reconcile it. Because I can't see any non-violent way to stop these stupid young men. Perhaps in some future, better world, men will be brought up differently and seek peaceful and diplomatic solutions to conflicts. Right now, in this moment, there was nothing to do but kill them.

  "When did your father give you the knife?" I asked Zerzan as we trudged along the side of the road. My ankle was throbbing again now that the battle was over, so our pace was slow.

  "He didn't give it to me. He died with it in his hand. One of his soldiers brought it to me when he came to tell us that my father was dead."

  "He died in battle."

  "Yes, he was a platoon leader, like me. His men were very loyal. Many of them still fight. He sacrificed himself to save them. That is what a true leader does."

  "I agree. But sometimes it's important for the leader to sacrifice others."

  Zerzan turned to look at me. "What do you mean?"

  "A friend, at least someone I know and work with and sort of respect..." She raised her eyebrows at me in question. "It's complicated. But he gave me shit for always sacrificing myself but never willingly sacrificing others. A true leader is someone who trusts their decision-making enough to know that losing people is a part of the game. It's like chess. Sometimes you have to sacrifice a pawn or even a knight to capture the king."

  "Do you believe that?"

  "I guess not. I'm here because I was trying to protect those around me."

  "What do you mean?"

  I turned my attention to the ground under my feet and bit my lip. Zerzan didn't need to know the details of how I'd arrived here or who I really was, but I wanted to tell her.

  "I was blackmailed. Declan Doyle threatened to reveal my true identity." I looked up at her. "I'm Joy Humbolt."

  She nodded, her face that same serene mask.

  "I didn't kill Kurt Jessup."

  Her eyes narrowed.

  "Do you know the myth?"

  "That you avenged your brother's death by killing the Mayor of New York, then escaped to start Joyful Justice."

  "That's not what really happened. I didn't kill Jessup. He was already dead when I arrived at his office. I was just stupid enough to leave evidence behind that made it super easy to frame me. Robert Maxim, a very powerful and dangerous man, arranged Jessup's death. Not to avenge my brother, but for his own reasons. Mainly that Jessup was out of control and Bobby doesn't do well with people he can't control. And I didn't start Joyful Justice either. I was in a hallucinatory fog."

  Zerzan's eyebrows rose in question.

  "I got doused with Datura. It's a dangerous hallucinogen that is used in C
olombia to rob people. It makes you totally pliable on the outside and on the inside, you see horrible, dark, scary things. I was completely out of it when Joyful Justice executed its first mission. I didn't even want it to exist. I thought it was crazy."

  "And now?"

  "Now I'm here. Willing to die to protect a lie. To keep Joyful Justice going."

  "I think Joyful Justice is a good thing."

  I laughed. "From one terrorist to another."

  Zerzan nodded and smiled.

  We walked in silence for another half-hour before headlights appeared in the distance.

  Chapter Nine

  It was a convoy of three Humvees. They slowed when their headlights hit us and then came to a stop. Diesel fumes wafted over us. In the open backs of the vehicles, soldiers aimed mounted machine guns at us.

  Zerzan, Blue, and I stood on the sandy shoulder, waiting.

  A voice came over a bullhorn. "Sydney Rye?"

  “Yes," I yelled.

  The passenger side door of the lead Humvee opened and a woman I didn't recognize got out, followed by Sazan, my translator.

  They came around, walking through the headlights, their shadows long and distorted on the road.

  The stranger was a little taller than me and broader, wearing a khaki camouflage uniform and a matching hat.

  Why wasn't she in battle gear? I had assumed they were going to check on the exploded Humvee. The woman put her hand out. "Major Gabby Garcia," her accent was southern, maybe Texan. "We've been looking for you."

  "Sydney Rye." I shook her hand.

  "What happened?"

  "Story is a little long for retelling on the side of the road. But there is a Humvee back there that hit an IED. I'm sorry, but there were no survivors."

  The major frowned and looked back at her convoy. "We'll take you back to base. Just give me a second."

  Sazan was chewing on her lip, watching the major's back as she headed over to speak with the driver of the second Humvee. "How are you?" I asked.

  Sazan ventured a smile, her lips still tight, her eyes looking a wee bit panicked. "I'm fine. How are you?"