Empty Is the Grave Page 15

  As they moved, Josiah prayed a bubble of protection around them. The threat, from both physical and spiritual, had a tangible presence.

  Rush paused at the corner.

  No warning sounded in Josiah’s soul. The way before them was clear.

  For now.

  He knew that wouldn’t last long.

  In fact, he was a bit surprised that the forces of darkness had not already defied him again. Perhaps the fate of their colleagues earlier had cautioned them from engaging him further.

  Somehow, he doubted it.

  After a quick check, Rush hurried around the corner and sprinted across the open space to a cluster of trees.

  Josiah followed on his heels.

  Rush didn’t speak as they picked their way through the brush, moving toward the outside of the island.

  Gunfire spewed from somewhere nearby.

  Rush grabbed his arm and jerked them both down, even though the fight was clearly further away and not directed at them.

  Overhead, the demons screeched and cackled.

  He looked up and found several beings had broken away. Some flitted off to an area out of his line of sight. Two took up position a few dozen feet above him, eyeing him as though he was fair game.

  He met their brazen stares and prayed, sending them bouncing backward.

  A grin stretched his cheeks.

  That’s what happened when you opposed the Lord. Not that it would teach them anything, but the Lord would deal with them in time.

  Crouching in the brush, he and Rush waited. More gunfire sounded, a volley of chaos bouncing back and forth, before stillness fell.

  After a full minute of silence, Rush jerked his head forward. He was ready to move on.

  Josiah nodded, falling into step behind him once again.

  Lord, send in your forces. Stop this madness.

  His prayers increased with each step, as did the Lord’s promise. Soon.

  They reached a rocky cliff jutting out over the sea, a meager fence a feeble attempt to keep them from plunging to a certain death on the rocks below.

  No sign of any boats.

  Was there any place on this island that a boat could land, aside from the main dock?

  He wasn’t sure, but if there was, they’d find it.

  Rafe, Chloe, and the rest of them were counting on it.

  They followed the fence, traversing rough ground.

  Wait.

  The caution lit through Josiah’s spirit. Pressure built in his chest and his breathing thickened. He put a hand on Rush’s forearm.

  There was trouble up ahead.

  Rush turned to him, a question in his dark eyes.

  Putting a finger in front of his lips, Josiah signaled him to crouch down.

  His muscles tightened as he lowered himself to the ground.

  They were exposed here. No trees or buildings for cover, just some scraggly shrubs clinging to the rocky face.

  Yet they couldn’t move. The Lord had made that clear.

  A voice drifted down from the trail above them.

  Rush flattened himself against the rocky ground.

  The wind swept the words away, but Josiah heard at least two men’s voices.

  The voices grew louder. He heard something about merchandise being secured, then the men moved away.

  Josiah eased out a breath and slowly rose.

  Rush tugged on his arm, gesturing with abrupt movements to get back down, but Josiah shook his head.

  “We’re safe now.” His whispered words drifted across the space between them but no further.

  “How do you know for sure?” Rush hissed back.

  “God.” Why were people always so surprised when he told them that?

  After a second’s hesitation, Rush pushed up from the ground and looked around. “Let’s keep moving. We gotta find those boats and get off this rock.”

  Yes, that was the plan, wasn’t it?

  Unfortunately, he had a feeling that before they could get away, the battle would find them.

  He was ready to fight, but was anyone else?

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Zander watched the speedboat skip across the choppy water toward them.

  At least he wasn’t on that boat. That looked like an accident – or at the very least, seasickness – waiting to happen.

  Those SWAT guys. Always the adrenaline junkies.

  Although in this case, he was glad they were booking it.

  With Josiah, and God only knew how many other people, on the island, they couldn’t get this thing contained fast enough.

  The engine’s rumble quieted slightly as the boat slowed.

  Zander crossed the deck to join Morgan.

  The other boat crested beside them and the captain cut the engine.

  A stocky man, whose massive arms evidenced countless hours in a gym, approached them. The logo emblazed on the upper right of the t-shirt hugging his chest clearly identified him as SWAT. “Team Commander Sampson. What do we know?”

  Man, did he wish he had new information to offer.

  “Not much.” Morgan beat him to the bad news. “Prison transport boat blew an hour and eighteen minutes ago. We saw armed hostiles running from the explosion. Since then, we’ve heard gunfire but haven’t seen anything else.”

  “Gunfire. As in single shots or full auto?”

  “Full auto.”

  Sampson nodded, lips pressed in a grim line.

  Even though it was likely the response the man had expected, it probably still wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear.

  Zander stuffed his hands in his pockets. “What’s the plan?”

  Sampson shifted to assess him. “A few of our SWAT guys are on the dive team. They’re going in first, will take out anyone watching the dock, then the rest of us will breach.”

  Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know SWAT training included scuba.”

  “It doesn’t. We’re lucky enough to have some former military who’ve kept up on their dive skills.”

  Behind Sampson, Zander saw four men shimmying into wetsuits. Another dozen officers in full tactical gear sat in various places throughout the boat, eyes watching the vast blue expanse around them.

  Didn’t seem like very many men for a situation with so many unknown variables.

  “Tell me you got more men coming than this.” Morgan sounded as skeptical as Zander felt.

  “Coast Guard’s got a boat on the way. They should be here within five minutes.”

  Hopefully a big boat with lots of people on board.

  “And,” Sampson continued, “With the prison involved, the Marshals have sent a team as well.”

  Naturally.

  Funny how quickly this day went from a simple crime scene search to a multi-agency task force.

  One of the divers stepped up behind Sampson and said something in a voice too low for Zander to hear.

  Sampson gave a sharp nod and the four divers moved to the platform at the rear of the boat. Each one had a black bag strapped to his chest. Likely a waterproof bag containing whatever weaponry they were packing. One by one the divers slipped on their fins, then stepped off the platform, disappearing into the water with a splash.

  The ocean swallowed them up.

  In fact, Zander saw no indication that they were even down there. He’d expected bubbles or ripples or something, but there was nothing.

  It was kind of creepy.

  And was exactly why he didn’t like the water. You never knew what was right beneath you.

  “How long will it take them?”

  Sampson assessed the distance to the shore. “To swim there? Maybe ten minutes. To take the dock? Well, that depends upon how heavily it’s guarded.”

  Another burst of gunfire sounded from somewhere on the island.

  Zander couldn’t keep from looking, even though he knew he wouldn’t see anything.

  If the amount of gunfire was any indication, there were a lot of people on that island, all heavily armed.

&
nbsp; Were four guys in wetsuits any match for the kind of firepower they’d encounter on Alcatraz?

  He shot up a quick prayer. Things could go so wrong so quickly and there were a lot of good men in the line of fire.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Chloe’s stomach gurgled and her throat felt like canvas. What she wouldn’t give for a soda. A sandwich. Maybe some ice cream.

  Instead, she was trapped in a stuffy old lighthouse with gunmen outside and Switch, an edgy guard, and a convict inside.

  How did she get into this anyway?

  If she ever saw Viktor again, she’d punch him. Hard.

  She’d never hit anyone in her life, but he deserved it. He deserved a heck of a lot more.

  A few feet to her left, Rafe shifted slightly.

  She angled a glance at him. In spite of the nasty, scabbed-over split lip and swollen cheekbone, he was kinda cute. When he wasn’t all beat up, he was probably pretty hot.

  Was she crazy? It was that kind of thinking that had gotten her into this mess in the first place!

  Besides, he had to be like, thirty or something. Seriously too old.

  Maybe even closer to her dad’s age than hers.

  Her dad’s face flooded her mind. He was gonna be so mad when he found out about this.

  But she didn’t care. She just wanted to see him again. Even if he barely knew she existed most days.

  Moisture blurred her vision and she tried to subtly wipe away the tears that rimmed her lower eyelids.

  The movement drew Rafe’s attention. “You aiight?”

  She nodded.

  Which was stupid, because it was so obviously a lie.

  They were trapped in a lighthouse on an island a mile offshore. Of course she wasn’t all right!

  “I talk to God when I’m scared.”

  The air further dried out her mouth, which she couldn’t seem to close at the moment. He got scared? This man who lived in a prison?

  “What are you scared of?” Her voice sounded so pathetically small and weak.

  He snorted. “You kiddin’ me? I spend my days in a prison. That place is full of crazy freaks. Some of ‘em want me dead ‘cause they think I’m a snitch.”

  “That’s what happened to your face?” Nice. She sounded like such an idiot.

  “Yeah. Couple of ‘em busted me up pretty good.” One of his fingers gently danced across the torn lip. “I’m scared I’ll die in prison, you know? That my nieces and nephew will never know me, all ‘cause I screwed up.”

  A niece. Why hadn’t she thought about the fact that these guys, even though they were criminals, had family out there somewhere? Maybe even family that cared about them more than her father cared about her.

  He wasn’t done.

  “What if I die without doin’ anythin’ that counts? I want my life to mean somethin’, you know?” He hesitated. “I’m also scared I won’t have a chance to set things right with my friend Zander.”

  That was a long list, and much more transparent than she’d expected him to be. “What do you need to set right?”

  “I owe him an apology. Probably lots of ‘em. I was a…” He pressed his lips together briefly, then offered a wry grin, “…jerk. Dude saved my life, but I haven’t talked to him since before I went inside.”

  “Hasn’t he visited?” Sounded like they were close, so why wouldn’t this Zander guy visit?

  “He’s tried, but I wouldn’t see him. Like I said, I was a jerk. He deserves better from me.”

  “Why wouldn’t you see him?” Not that it was any of her business, but focusing on his problems was a good distraction.

  “I didn’t want to screw up his life. Stupid, huh? Like talking to me would mess him up.”

  Didn’t make much sense to her, but there was obviously a lot of the story missing here. “So if you make it out of this, you’ll let him visit.”

  “When.” His grin looked slightly strained. “Not if. I mean, God’s got us, right? We’ll get outta this okay, then I’ll ask him to come again.”

  He couldn’t possibly know that any of them, much less all of them, would survive the day, but somehow his confidence was reassuring.

  “You wanna pray with me?”

  She blinked as Rafe’s question registered. Pray? Her?

  Had she ever prayed a day in her life?

  No. God hadn’t ever been a part of her world. Her dad didn’t believe in God. When her mom had been around, she didn’t remember her mom believing in God either. The fact her mom had left and never looked back proved she didn’t believe in God, right?

  Well, she wasn’t exactly brimming with options right now. Maybe praying wasn’t such a bad idea.

  “Uh, sure.”

  Beside her, Switch grunted.

  Yeah, well he wasn’t coming up with any better ideas. If God existed, and if God would listen to Rafe, then wasn’t it worth joining in?

  Rafe closed his eyes, but didn’t clasp his hands or fall on the floor or do anything really weird. “Hey, God. You know where we’re at and what we’re up against. I’m glad You’re with us.”

  God was with them?

  She couldn’t keep from looking around.

  Still the same three people in the room with her. No sign of any old guy with a white beard or someone with wings.

  Rafe kept talking. It wasn’t all flowery or fancy. In fact, it felt like he was carrying on a normal conversation. He asked for safety and wisdom, prayed for Josiah and Rush, asked God to keep the bad guys away and bring the good guys soon, and ended with thanking God for having a plan.

  This was God’s idea of a plan?

  When he said amen, he opened his eyes and looked at her. This time, his smile didn’t seem forced. In fact, he almost looked at peace.

  At peace!

  With guys outside wanting to kill them, who knew how many people dead, and a future as uncertain as it came, he should be anything but peaceful. Yet there was no denying the calm assurance on his face.

  “Now, don’t you feel better?” His question, heard by everyone in the room, was directed at her alone.

  Oddly enough, yeah. She did feel better.

  Maybe his confidence was contagious. Or maybe there was something – Someone – bigger at play here.

  Hey, God? If You are there, I don’t wanna die today.

  Hard to say if anyone heard her, but at least she could say she’d tried.

  Under the circumstances, it was about the only thing she could do.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Hugh led his group down the incline leading to McCloud’s Beach, his eyes continually scanning the rough terrain.

  The tunnel waited fifty feet ahead of them.

  Four bodies littered the rocks between them and the tunnel, two in orange jump suits and two in green camo.

  Orange jump suits… inmates?

  Well, the guy back at the lighthouse had said something about a prison work group. Looked like maybe that had been the truth after all.

  Although what these guys were doing down here was a mystery.

  He checked the bodies as they passed to ensure none of them would pop up and shoot him in the back.

  No pulse on any of them.

  The blood on the rocks around them glistened in the sunlight. Still wet.

  This had happened recently.

  Well, since these weren’t his men, then it had to have been Landon who’d shot them. Landon or someone else from his team.

  Maybe that meant his men were still alive. More importantly, maybe that meant their merchandise was still secured.

  With his back against the rocky wall, he slid into the cave.

  The metal gate gaped open.

  His heart chugged and the fingers gripping his gun iced.

  The open gate could mean only one thing.

  They’d been breached.

  How many were inside? How many guns were inside?

  Could he and the handful of men behind him take them on?

  Too risky.

  They
could be walking right into an ambush.

  He held up a hand to signal his men to stop, then waved them off, slowly backing out of the cave.

  The sun beat down on his head but did little to warm the chill that had settled into his bones.

  He turned to find his men awaiting his next command. Bruce stood at the back of the group, a scowl twisting his features.

  Bruce’s expression said it all. If this went south, he was as good as dead.

  So, he’d just have to make sure it didn’t go south. He had no intention of dying on this island today.

  He pushed past his men and went to the side of the entrance, where they’d clearly see anyone coming out but wouldn’t be immediately seen themselves.

  What to do?

  They’d have to go in.

  Standing outside – just waiting for something to happen – wasn’t an option, especially if the Feds were on the way.

  And he had no reason to believe they weren’t.

  Time to assemble his men.

  He’d leave a few sharpshooters to watch the back entrance in the Model Industries Building, maybe a couple guys in the tunnel to make sure no one took any weapons out that way, but the rest would join him here.

  Once he had all his men here, they’d go in.

  He radioed his men, then settled in to wait.

  Bruce’s face grew redder by the second. Probably wanted to put a round through him right now, but he knew better. Bruce couldn’t lead this team as effectively.

  They all knew it.

  A noise echoed out of the mouth of the cave.

  Hugh brought his gun up.

  More noises. Footsteps. Voices. Heavy breathing. The occasional grunt.

  A flash of orange. A man backed out of the cave, laboring over the wood crate in his arms.

  Another man in orange supported the other end of the crate. That crate contained weapons. The obvious weight of it evidenced that fact.

  And it was being carried by prisoners. Prisoners! They were being robbed by a group of cons on a prison work detail?

  No sign of a weapon, although it’d be hard to carry a gun and that crate.

  A man in full camo exited directly behind the two prisoners.

  An automatic rifle protruded like an extension of his arm.

  The first prisoner looked up.