Desperate Rendition - Chapter 9

For the next hour, the drive was more or less uneventful. Taylor knew the mercs were out there and just hoped they ran into them before they got to Valencia. Even if the locals weren’t bought off, getting into a gunfight in their city would cause the locals to come down hard, which would make getting on a plane difficult.

Taylor was on a straightaway just past a curve, with another one coming up ahead, when Bonnie said, “Shit.”

“What?” Taylor asked, looking in the rearview mirror.

Behind them and closing quickly was a dark-colored SUV. It could be nothing, as those types of vehicles could be ubiquitous across the world, but Taylor wasn’t willing to bet his life on it, especially with how fast the SUV was coming up on them.

Taylor mashed the accelerator, wishing they had managed to steal something with a little more pep than the small sedan they’d gotten. It began to pick up speed, but not as quickly as the SUV was gaining. Bonnie already had her weapon in her hand, but they weren’t going to be able to do fancy maneuvers like they did in Caracas to lose them. This was a single four-lane road cut through the jungle, with dense trees on either side. There was nowhere really to go.

Things got worse as they turned the corner ahead of them.

In the center of the road was a large truck, turned to cover all four lanes, with its engine cover opened like it was broken down and one tire off on the back.

“It’s a trap,” Bonnie said.

“No shit.”

Taylor wouldn’t have trusted any vehicle blocking the road, but one with both engine trouble and a rear flat tire, while a strange SUV barreled up behind him. The mercs might as well have sent invitations letting them know to save the date for an ambush. Not that it was a terrible plan. The truck was well positioned and they’d picked a point with very thick tree cover on either side, giving hardly any room to do anything but flip around, which the SUV would solve.

Unfortunately for the mercs, hardly any room was not the same thing as no room.

“Hold on,” Taylor said, slowing slightly as he slid the car off the edge of the road onto the short embankment that led into the trees, aiming for the narrow space between the truck and the edge of the road. The tires kicked up dirt and gravel as he pushed the accelerator again, trying to squeeze through the gap.

He could hear Bonnie suck in a breath. It really was going to be a tight fit. At least if he was wrong, he wouldn’t be around to know about it.

Thankfully, he hit the spot right now, blasting past the truck through the tiny open space. Unfortunately, the mercs were just smart enough to have thought of that too.

“Down,” Bonnie shouted, ducking her head down below the level of the window.

Taylor reacted before his brain caught up, which saved his life as the sound of a machine gun opened up and bullets began to slam into their car, shattering the windows and stitching across the panels. Most penetrated, but the shooter hadn’t thought through his position. He was by the trees, which put them at an upward angle causing the bullets to punch through the door and up into the ceiling or slam into parts under the chassis and not penetrate.

Unfortunately, one of those parts shot up from below was the engine.

Black smoke began to billow out from under the hood and even into the car itself, along with a grinding sound. The vehicle began to slow as the car started to shed its momentum now that the engine was dead, even as more bullets ripped into its trunk. Worse, one of the tires exploded, causing the metal rim to dig into the dirt and gravel, slowing them even faster.

“Hold on,” Taylor said again as he turned the wheel hard and sent them plunging down the embankment. He saw the spot he wanted. A small section that didn’t have trees so much as thick undergrowth, which the car now tore into. That clear spot didn’t last for long and they smashed into a tree a few feet behind it, but between the gravel, the blown tire, the diagonal path, and the undergrowth, they’d shed just enough speed to keep the impact from behind fatal.

They also didn’t hit it head-on, but more glanced off of it, ripping the front headlight apart, then off a tree on the other side, before hitting a third tree.

It hurt like hell, the seatbelts cutting into him hard as he was jostled from side to side and the airbag smashed into his face. For a second, Taylor was stunned, the world ringing, until Bonnie started clawing at him.

“We have to get out of here,” she screamed as she slashed the airbag away with a knife and cut his seatbelt straps.

“Go. Go,” Taylor said, pushing the words out as he regained his senses and his breath. “I’m right behind you.”

Bonnie didn’t hesitate or look back as she bolted from the vehicle, disappearing into the trees. Taylor pulled himself out of the seat and followed after her, crawling out of the passenger door, since the driver’s side was wedged against a tree, and diving out of the car before taking cover behind a tree trunk.

His thigh hurt like hell from smashing it into the steering wheel and he was going to have a hell of a bruise. After taking another moment to get a hold of himself, Taylor started to move toward the direction where Bonnie was about a hundred feet ahead of him, just visible through the thick trees. He’d only made it a few steps when a hail of bullets sent him scrambling for cover again, rolling behind another tree, the whizzing of bullets only inches above him.

Taylor looked in Bonnie’s direction, who apparently hadn’t been noticed yet. She made a quick few hand signals that said she was going to move around and flank their attackers. She didn’t wait for him to respond, just turning and disappearing completely further into the trees.

Taylor hoped she had good luck because they had him pinned down. He began to crawl through the underbrush, keeping very low and using every bit of cover he could to move away from where he’d been hiding as bullets began to tear into the clump of trees he’d been using for cover.

He could kind of see the muzzle flashes but the coverage made it hard to actually see where these guys were. He crawled in an arc as the fire died down, probably because they needed to see if he was actually there before they burned through all the ammo they had on them.

Through a gap in the foliage, Taylor spotted one of them. They’d spread out, most likely looking for him, which was stupid but worked for Taylor. He waited, steadying his breathing, then fired. The mercenary dropped, a clean headshot taking him out of the fight.

Taylor moved immediately, knowing his position was compromised. As expected, more gunfire erupted, tearing at where he’d been a moment before, seeking him out.

He was close to another one of them, who was helpfully giving away his position as he blazed away at where he hoped Taylor would be. He couldn’t see the entire man, from his position chest down on the forest floor, but he could see enough of him. Again Taylor took aim and squeezed off a shot, this time catching the man in the leg, the bullet hitting smack in the middle of the largest part of the thigh. The guy dropped instantly, his eyes locking on Taylor for a moment before Taylor made sure he would look at nothing ever again.

Taylor started to roll away but was forced to pull himself up as close to a tree as possible as the fire laced out at where he was sitting. The second shot had been one too much and he hadn’t moved away fast enough. Bullets tore into the thick tree that was the only thing between Taylor and death.

He had a rough idea where they were and waited, hoping they were continued as tactically stupid as they had been up to this point. Sure enough, one fell silent, and then the other, the tell-tale sound of a magazine sliding out of the weapon audible now that the gunfire had ceased.

Had they been smart, they would have rotated fire, so one of them could keep sending bullets downrange as the other swapped mags. Thankfully, they weren’t.

Taylor popped up as one of them started to rack the bolt on his rifle. He didn’t have time to aim and only caught the man’s shoulder, sending him spinning. It wasn’t going to kill him, but maybe it would take him out of the fight for a bit. Instead of finishing his reload and pinning Taylor again, his friend wasted valuable seconds looking to his fallen comrade.

He didn’t pause long enough for Taylor to get his weapon on target and take him down, but he did give enough time for Taylor to sprint toward a new position, a depression that might have been a small creek of some kind. Taylor rolled into it and used its lower position to move perpendicular to the last shooter, who was blazing away at the point where Taylor had dropped to the ground again, like he’d have stayed there, just waiting for a bullet to find him.

Idiot.

Taylor arm crawled fast, using the sound of the guy’s firing to tell where he was in relation to the shooter. There was a brief pause in the gunfire, followed by a clunk and then the fire picking back up again. If he had to guess, instead of reloading, he just grabbed the already loaded dropped rifle.

Maybe they’d already burned through the easy-to-reach mags. One of the many reasons spray and pray was a bad way to conduct combat operations.

Taylor scrambled up the side and took a moment to aim. Long enough for the guy to realize he’d been flanked, but not enough time to do anything about it. All he could do is widen his eyes as Taylor punched a bullet through his temple.

He would have preferred a body shot because aim small, miss small was a truism he believed in, but all of these guys were wearing body armor.

For a moment, Taylor held still at the sound of a burst of gunfire, but he couldn’t track down where it was coming from. In heavy trees like this, sound bounced around, making positioning difficult. There was a shot from another weapon, a pistol from the sound of it, and the automatic fire cut off.

Bonnie, he assumed.

The last thing he wanted to do was stumble into where she was operating without knowing where she was. There’d be too much chance for him to accidentally shoot her, or vice versa. Better to head to the point where they both knew they’d eventually find the other, near their crashed car.

Or at least he hoped she’d think to rendezvous there.

Taylor moved through the trees slowly, listening hard, since the dense foliage made it difficult to actually see anything. A snapping of a twig was all the warning he had a heartbeat before a massive force slammed into Taylor from the side, sending him crashing into the ground, his weapon flying from his grasp as he hit the ground hard. Rolling over, he found the giant, bearded face of the merc leader, Vulkov.

A small part of Taylor’s brain was impressed that someone so large had been able to move so quietly. The rest of him, however, was fighting for his life. Vulkov’s face was contorted with rage as he lunged at Taylor, trying to pin him down. Taylor remembered something Whitaker had told him and managed to get a hand inside of Vulkov’s as the Chechen tried to get his meaty fingers around Taylor’s neck.

Vulkov was on top of Taylor, straddling him, using his weight to keep him pinned. Taylor felt the air being squeezed from his lungs as Vulkov bore down on him, fighting to keep the man’s hands away. Then the merc made a mistake.

Maybe because he wasn’t having luck choking Taylor out, his eyes darted to the side, seeing Taylor’s discarded weapon, telegraphing the lunge for it he did moments later. The lunge forced him to lean down and across Taylor, who didn’t hesitate, bringing an elbow up hard into the man’s solar plexus.

The blow pushed him away from the weapon, but otherwise hardly made him flinch. Taylor followed it up with hard punches at the man’s open face and neck, trying to do more to keep him distracted protecting his head than to actually hurt him, since the leverage was out of Taylor’s favor. All he knew is he needed to keep the man away from that gun.

One of those strikes got lucky, hitting up into the man’s nose, causing it to explode in blood. This finally caused the man to react as he rocked back, grabbing at his face.

Taking advantage of Vulkov’s momentary distraction, Taylor bucked his hips and twisted, managing to partially dislodge the mercenary. Vulkov didn’t stay distracted long, quickly recovering and grabbing Taylor by the shirt, hauling him up before slamming Taylor hard into a tree.

Stars exploded in Taylor’s vision as his head cracked against the trunk. He felt Vulkov’s hand finally close around his throat, cutting off his air supply. Through blurring vision, he saw the mercenary reach for something at his belt – a knife.

Taylor kicked out at the man’s leg and managed to make some contact, forcing the man’s hands back up to keep a hold of Taylor as his knee collapsed, but instead of falling back or letting go, Vulkov used his weight to take both of them to the ground, now pressing Taylor against the base of the tree, still squeezing the life out of him, the knife forgotten.

Taylor started to see black creeping in at the edge of his vision, and knew he was almost out of time. Vulkov had Taylor’s right hand pressed in hard against his chest, choking Taylor out with the other hand, leaving Taylor’s left hand free. He knew he wouldn’t have enough strength in his off hand to pry the big man’s fingers off. He probably wouldn’t have with his right hand, had it been free.

Instead, he scrabbled against the ground, searching for anything he could use as a weapon. His fingers closed around a fist-sized rock. With all the strength he could muster, Taylor swung the rock, connecting solidly with the side of Vulkov’s head. The mercenary’s grip loosened as he staggered backward.

Taylor gulped in air, wanting nothing more than to cough and let his chest reflate, but he only had a few seconds before Vulkov recovered. Spotting it lying half under some leaves and forest debris, Taylor dove for it. His fingers closed around the grip just as he heard Vulkov’s enraged roar behind him.

Rolling onto his back, Taylor brought the weapon up. Vulkov was already in mid-lunge, his face a mask of fury, the knife from his belt now in his hand. Taylor didn’t aim or even think, he just fired.

The gunshot echoed through the forest. Vulkov’s momentum carried him forward another step before he dropped to his knees, knife dropped as his hand went to his neck, blood spurting out through his fingers. Taylor remained where he was, gun trained on Vulkov, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The mercenary leader gave a final, wet gurgle before toppling over to the side.

Slowly, Taylor lowered his weapon. He pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the various aches and pains making themselves known. He approached Vulkov’s body cautiously, keeping his gun ready, but the merc was thankfully dead.

Taylor made his way back to the embankment and the crashed car, battered but still moving. Thankfully, he did not encounter anyone else, which hopefully meant Bonnie had finished off the remainder. He didn’t trust Bonnie as far as he could throw her, but killing was very much the thing she was good at, and at least this time, he didn’t particularly care what happened to the mercs. They’d made their decision when they took the money and started shooting up markets and occupied buildings.

As he pushed his way out of the underbrush, to where the car was, he found Bonnie leaning against the banged-up side.

“What took you so long?” she asked with a small, self-satisfied smile.

Taylor shot her a brief, unamused glance. “Let’s just get out of here.”

He pushed past her and started looking through the car for a few useful items, mostly scattered out of the bag he’d grabbed from her hideout. A first aid kit, some water bottles, and a few energy bars. She already had her personal bag strapped around her back, so that was about all they needed.

“We can’t linger here,” Taylor stated, stuffing the supplies into his pockets.

“They helpfully left an SUV on the other side of the stalled truck and I happened to find the keys,” she said, dangling a set of keys in front of him, some blood still visible on the edge of the keyring.

Taylor grabbed them from her and said, “Let’s go.”