Goon has recovered ground and lets out another rapid-fire burst now that the other shooters are no longer a threat. He riddles the car and its driver with bullets, killing him. There is silence, except the echoing reports of gunfire against the walls.
Goon limps toward our auto while I look down at the mark. He is very dead, but I have seen enough movies. I squeeze one last shot into the back of his head.
“Come on!” Goon commands from the car, its engine roaring. I step over the mark as if he were merely a crack in the ground and hustle to the car. I gaze over at Max’s body, checking for signs of life, before slipping into the passenger seat he once occupied.
“Maybe he’s still alive?”
“He’s not,” Goon growls through his pain, focused on getting us out of this hot zone. “Get the charge from the bag.”
I reach to the rear seats of the car, grabbing the go bag from the floor. Sirens wail in the background, coming closer. The street is relatively deserted, everyone either having run away or keeping cover. I rifle through the bag until I find the small black box no heavier than a D-size battery, no bigger than an old pager. I check with Goon, who nods pointedly.
I press the button on it, priming it. I roll my window down as I do. When Goon wheels past Max’s body, I toss the charge at it. The charge smacks the body, exploding on impact. The explosion amounts to a small firework you can buy for New Year’s, but it does its job, eradicating any trace of our dispatch team and the Tribe.
The mission has gone awry. Max is dead, and Cleaners will take care of his remains somehow. However, the objective has been met and the mark killed, even though I was only supposed to tag along, not work this job. I have graduated my training early and completed my first dispatch, while Goon is forced into retirement.
67
AFTER
With no more intel than what they’d received from the call, Nena and Elin raced to the Baxters’。 The neighborhood was quiet, but not for long. The moment a neighbor came out to walk their dog or a car drove by, they’d see the dead body lying on the lawn that Nena observed with growing dread as she cut her bike’s engine. Parked in the driveway were Cortland’s Chevelle and an F-150 that she remembered from the cookout was Mack’s.
The house was dark, and the front door was cracked open. It was too quiet. Nena pulled her gun, sweeping the perimeter for anyone hanging around. She first checked the body. Mack. She felt his neck, hoping for a pulse. Nothing.
There was no more she could do for him, so she left him there and continued. Gun ready, she entered through the open front door.
She spotted Cort immediately. He was lying in the living room, unmoving, a puddle of blood beneath him. She ignored the sinking of her heart and contemplated not checking him at all. If she didn’t check, then she could avoid the possibility that he was as dead as Mack a moment longer. She backed away from his still body, deciding to clear the house first.
Muzzle pointed to the floor, she swept the gun side to side. Moving carefully down the hall, she cleared the three bedrooms, the bathrooms, the kitchen, the dining room, and the garage. There was nothing else out of place in the home. Elin entered the house as Nena reemerged from the bedrooms. Elin was already dropping next to Cort’s body, uttering an alarmed curse.
“The guy out there’s dead,” Elin huffed, as Nena knelt on Cort’s other side. “Is he?”
Nena touched an artery. “He’s alive.”
“Georgia?”
“Not here,” Nena said grimly.
Elin pulled her cell to call Network to get a team out. Nena balled a hand into a fist, pushing the knuckle of her pointer finger out. She pressed her fist into Cort’s chest, grinding the knuckle into his flesh, until he gasped awake with Georgia’s name on his lips. He looked around wildly, tried to sit up, grimaced when the pain hit him, and was back down. His hands went to the darkened area on his shirt. Nena lifted the shirt, making an initial assessment.
“Be still,” she said gently. Her fingers tenderly traced his eyebrows. She ignored Elin staring at her.
“What happened?” Nena asked.
Cortland’s response came in huffs. “Not sure? Some guy ambushed us when we came home.”
Nena asked, “Who was he?”
“Never saw him before. We were at a movie, the three of us. I opened the door and came inside first. Mack was last. I heard shots. Oh God. Mack.” His body jerked up. “Is he—？”
Elin dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Where is Georgia? What is your sister doing here?” Cort asked, still struggling beneath their hands.