Empty Is the Grave Page 12
With their lives on the line, she wasn’t going to let him be quiet. “Switch!”
He glared at her.
Rush turned to face Switch and assessed him for a second. “Look, I don’t care how you do it and no one will learn about your skills from me, but if you can get in, I need you to override the automated controls.”
Switch crossed his bony arms over his chest and said nothing.
Rush measured out a breath. “Cortez and I can’t hold these guys off. At some point, we’re gonna run out of ammo. If we don’t get help out here, soon, we’re all toast. Now can you do it?”
Arms dropping, Switch deflated like a popped balloon. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Then let’s go. The rest of you, stay here.”
₪ ₪ ₪
“Everyone else is dead.” Oksana’s icy gaze traveled across the orange jump suited men with a chill Viktor could feel from across the room.
Expressions ranged from indifferent to grim.
They’d all heard the gunfire. They knew she spoke the truth.
Viktor watched the men closely, looking for any twitch to indicate insubordination.
Like it or not, Oksana was currently in charge. These men had to know the chain of command. And respect it. Especially since his sister was a beautiful woman in front of a group of men who hadn’t been around women in a while.
He may not like her bossing him around, but she was still his sister.
If any of these men so much as dared to look at her the wrong way, he’d take that man down.
Not that she needed him to defend her. Nor would she welcome the gesture.
“You do exactly as I say, when I say it, and we won’t have a problem. If not, I will personally put a bullet between your eyes. Understand?”
Most men nodded. A few mumbled “yeah.”
Three didn’t respond.
Viktor narrowed his eyes on the first man, a big white guy with a shaved head and heavily tatted arms.
With his shoulders pulled back, his chin jutted out, and his arms crossed over his chest, his entire posture screamed defiance. He brazenly raked his eyes down her body.
Viktor’s arms jerked slightly, the barrel of his gun rising.
He could cut the man down now.
But he wouldn’t. Oksana needed to show these men who was boss. If Viktor took care of the problem now, these men would simply wait until his back was turned and then try something.
Drawing a breath, he forced his finger away from the trigger.
A leering grin crossed the man’s face as his eyes finally met Oksana’s.
There was little doubt that he’d try something, given half a chance.
Not that Oksana would give him that chance. Mutiny wasn’t tolerated by anyone, ever.
She’d end this problem as she had so many others.
“You think you’re a big man?”
If the man knew her better, he’d recognize the iron in that sarcastic question.
Instead, he just chuckled.
She handed her gun to Nikolas, then sashayed closer, swinging her hips with an exaggeration designed to draw attention.
It worked.
The man’s gaze shifted downward.
Her fingers brushed her thigh.
Had the man even seen the knife strapped there?
Maybe not. The black strap and sheath blended with her black jeans.
She stepped into arm’s reach.
Metal flashed, her arm slashed, and the man went down in a massive heap.
And that was why she was in charge. Why he didn’t challenge her authority.
She moved with the swiftness, stealth, and lethal prowess of a jaguar.
The men on either side jumped back as if afraid she’d turn on them next. Which, if they weren’t careful, she might.
The insolent man lay twisted on the cement, a massive pool of blood pouring from the slash across his throat.
Oksana knelt, looked into his empty eyes, and slid both sides of her blade across the man’s stomach to wipe off the blood.
Other than a little spatter on her arm, she’d even managed to avoid most of the spray.
Yet another thing their father had taught her to do.
“Dasvidanya, big man.”
Goodbye and good riddance. The man who wanted to be tough was now an example to the rest.
Rising, she turned toward the other two non-responders. “Am. I. Understood.” She measured the words slowly.
Both of them nodded, a hint of panic in their response.
Good.
Now they both understood that she wasn’t merely a pretty figurehead, but a leader to be respected and feared.
Mostly feared.
And if they feared her, they’d fear him and the rest of his crew.
“You will load some crates. What’s inside doesn’t concern you. You will not ask questions or look inside.” Her voice echoed off the barren walls.
None of the men looked the least bit interested in challenging her.
“Viktor will show you the way.”
Of course he would. Didn’t he always do the jobs she deemed beneath her?
He selected eight men, in addition to Nikolas, to oversee their workforce and divided them into two groups.
“You’re in charge.” He nodded at Ivan. “Approach from the outside. We’ll come from the inside. After last night, they’ll likely have the room guarded, so be ready.”
Nikolas stepped closer as the first group disappeared from earshot. “I didn’t see the guards from earlier.”
“What guards?”
“The ones from outside the prison. When Anatoli was shot.”
This was not what he wanted to hear. “Are you saying there are more out there somewhere?”
Nikolas shifted slightly, plunging his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants. “All I’m saying is that they aren’t among the dead.”
How many people had he said were in that group?
Two guards. A prisoner. And two kids who’d been stupid enough to believe he wanted to put some graffiti on the island.
Five people. Only two of whom were armed and posed even the slightest threat.
Still, they were an unknown entity.
“Find them. I want them eliminated.”
Nikolas turned to obey.
There had to be a more efficient way of locating them. Maybe they could draw them out.
“Wait.”
Nikolas turned.
“The guards’ radios. Get one. Tell them that everyone else has been killed but you managed to get away and you need their help. They’ll know all the guards’ voices, so pretend to be an inmate. They might buy it.”
Nikolas nodded, then switched course to return to where they’d left the bodies.
Much as he didn’t want to, he needed to tell Oksana.
After checking to make sure his remaining men were watching the inmates, he crossed to where his sister stood. “There are still at least two guards, a prisoner, and two of those kids unaccounted for.”
Oksana narrowed her eyes. “You’re certain?”
He nodded. “Nikolas got a good look at them earlier. They aren’t here. Nikolas is going for one of the guards’ radios. He’s going to try to trick them into revealing their location.”
A Russian curse slipped out before Oksana hauled in a deep breath and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her shirt. “They are a minor threat to our forces, but I will see if any of our guards saw anything.”
Not a bad plan. With their strategically placed guards around the island, surely one of them had seen the group.
“Scouts. Report.” She’d slipped into Russian, as she always did when she was stressed.
The three men they had roving the island checked in without having seen anything of significance.
Her lips pressed more tightly together with each report.
It was okay. The lookouts were more likely to have seen something anyway.
“Watchtower. Report.”
Seconds passed.
No response from the two stationed at the lighthouse.
If they were goofing off, he’d kill them himself.
“Watchtower two.” She spoke slowly, raising her voice to the point that Viktor had to purposefully avoid flinching. “Report.”
Still nothing.
Could there be trouble at the lighthouse?
“Scouts. Report on Watchtower two.”
All three men confirmed the order, but the hand she held fisted in front of her chest told him it wasn’t good enough.
The lack of response from the lighthouse concerned him as much as he knew it concerned her.
Trouble was brewing. He could feel it.
They needed to get to the supply room and get those crates out of here. Fast. Before more of their men died.
At least now they had a small army to help carry out Oksana’s orders.
A very expendable army.
If this turned into a war, he already knew who would be on the front lines.
₪ ₪ ₪
The murmur pulled Josiah from his prayers.
Even before he looked at the others in the room, he knew they hadn’t heard it. The sound was supernatural, spiritual, and dark.
Which could only mean one thing.
A battle approached.
The murmur rose to a muffled roar, the voices growling, the words indistinguishable. The sound made the hair on his neck tingle.
It wasn’t often he heard the demonic horde.
God was calling him to be ready.
He glanced at the three people in the room with him. Would they get caught in the middle of this battle that was so much bigger than them all?
Not if he could help it.
The weight of responsibility weighed on him. What if he couldn’t protect them all? Yes, God was stronger than the enemy, but the enemy was stronger than him and the Lord’s warriors were nowhere to be seen.
Father, save us. The prayer whispered through his spirit, bringing a peace that defied the odds.
“Someone’s coming.” His words, whispered, crashed like a tsunami.
Cortez bolted to his feet, gun trained on the door. “You sure?”
Even though he sounded a little doubtful, he obviously wasn’t taking any chances.
“Yes. I heard them.”
Chloe scooted across the floor until she cowered beneath the staircase. A small whimper escaped and she clapped her hand over her mouth.
Poor kid. She was too young to be dealing with such a rough situation.
Rafe pushed to his feet. “Whatcha need?”
“Pray. ‘The eternal God is your refuge and underneath are the everlasting arms.’” Deuteronomy 33:27 spilled from his lips with an authority he knew came from the Lord.
“And get out of the way. I can’t watch both you and the door.” Cortez grumbled, gesturing toward the stairs with his gun. “Both of you. Wait over there.”
Rafe joined Chloe under the stairs.
It was a good place for both of them. It kept them out of the way of their enemies, both those that could be seen and those that couldn’t.
Sovereign Lord. Be a refuge around this place.
His gaze landed on Chloe and Rafe.
Be a refuge around them.
He took up position in front of them. When the dark forces entered this place, and they would, he would be their first line of defense.
Ten
Warden Bill Waterson mopped his forehead.
Not good.
How had he lost a whole work detail?
There’d been no response from their multiple communication efforts. It’d been over forty-five minutes since the group had last checked in.
Had the inmates revolted? Or was it as simple as an equipment failure?
They were so remote that there was no way to know for certain without sending someone to check up on them.
“Send out the chopper. I want to know what’s happening on that island.”
₪ ₪ ₪
Hugh held the M-16 loosely in his hands as he and five other men advanced through some scraggly brush.
So far, no sign of the enemy.
But the smoldering remains of a ship at the dock, as well as the body of one of his men, confirmed that the report he’d received earlier was true. Something was happening here, something that threatened the empire he’d spent years protecting.
Whoever was behind this would pay.
His team moved with silent stealth, barely disturbing the foliage.
They reached the top of the rise. The prison loomed in front of them, a path stretching to either side.
In his peripheral, movement.
He whipped around, but his men were faster.
A burst came from two of their weapons and a man in camo dropped before he could even get off a shot.
He looked around slowly.
Just one man? What kind of two-bit operation wouldn’t send the men out in pairs?
A poorly manned one. Or a poorly run one.
Either option suited him fine. It would make it that much easier to stop these clowns.
They approached the fallen man.
Blood darkened the green shirt covering his chest and formed a puddle beneath him.
Blue eyes stared at the sky and pale lips hung open in a breathless scream.
The man’s light skin and sandy hair evidenced that they weren’t up against a Mexican cartel. That was good, anyway. The cartels were heavily armed, well manned, and usually led by someone with ruthless intelligence.
With any luck, this group would be none of those things.
His men skirted the body and advanced down the wall of the prison, pausing at the corner.
One man looked around the edge of the building.
Gunfire erupted from somewhere out of his line of sight.
So. The man hadn’t been alone after all.
Hugh glanced behind him at Bruce. Now Bruce would see firsthand just how good he and his crew were. Turning back to his men, he nodded, then watched as his man raised his own weapon and sent a flurry of bullets toward the enemy.
More gunfire responded.
His man jerked back.
This gunfire would attract others from the enemy’s group. They needed to gain control of this obstacle. Now.
Turning, he signaled three of his men to go around the prison.
They’d come up from behind and take the shooter – or shooters – down.
₪ ₪ ₪
Rafe flinched as several gunshots echoed in rapid succession from somewhere outside.
The warning Josiah gave them had proven true, not that he’d ever doubted it. If Josiah said it, he believed it, pure and simple. God was with Josiah like no one else, and that was good enough for him.
Chloe grabbed his hand and squeezed so hard he thought his fingers might pop off.
She probably didn’t even realize she’d done it. Fear had a way of making people do weird things.
A minute passed. Or maybe it was five. Time was hard to measure when his heart threatened to explode right out of his body.
More gunfire. Lots of it. Followed by return fire.
Return fire? That was a good thing, right? It meant someone was trying to take down the bad guys. It had to be the cops or feds or something. Who else would want to stop the people attacking them?
The return fire sounded further away. Too far to save them?
More gunfire came from above.
At least they knew that was coming from Rush. Hopefully he was picking off the guys on the ground before they could make it inside.
A small sob slipped from Chloe, who buried her face against his shoulder.
Josiah stood in front of them like a stoic sentry.
If this got ugly, as the amount of gunfire outside indicated, Josiah was positioned to shield them.
Part of him was scared to death Josiah would
die. But another part of him liked that there was someone standing between him and a bullet.
Although I walk through the shadow of death, I won’t be afraid ‘cause God’s got me.
A verse from the Psalm Josiah had been teaching him ran through his mind, although he was pretty sure he’d gotten some of it wrong.
Still, there was comfort in it.
God was with them.
In this dingy, cramped room, with danger exploding outside and fear pressing from within, God was telling him he didn’t have to be afraid.
And even if he did die, he’d go to heaven, right?
He’d chosen Jesus, who had died for his sins, so death would just get him to the next phase of his life. Or afterlife, as the case may be.
Did Chloe have that assurance? Didn’t sound like it.
He squeezed Chloe’s hand. “Jesus–”
The door flew open and a man filled the space.
No uniform or orange jump suit. Not one of theirs. The automatic weapon in his hands swung toward them.
₪ ₪ ₪
Four demons infiltrated the room.
Josiah shifted to keep them all in sight. Two came through the upper window, one came in with the gunman, the final one came straight through the wall.
All of them looked at him, a feral hunger in their expressions.
He kept his gaze moving from one to the next, never lingering too long on any specific one, but trying to keep all of them in sight.
“Look what we have here.” One of the creatures floated down from the window, feet skimming the stairs. “One of God’s special ones.”
They all chuckled.
“We will show him who has the real power.” The one in the wall shifted fully into the room.
He longed to engage, to bind these four arrogant inferior creatures and send them away. But doing so would distract Cortez and increase the very real human threat.
His breath quickened. Tightness spread through his chest and his muscles tensed.
“Time to die, Christian.” The one closest to him hissed as it moved in.
Father! Please send your angels–
Light burst into the room. A heavenly warrior dropped between Josiah and the enemy.
The sword flashed and savage screams echoed.