“Have you come to rob me?” Snowsuit asked. He had a calmness about him that Nate found disquieting.
“Who are you?”
Snowsuit snickered. “Who am I? You broke into my house. The real question is who the hell are you?” As he spoke, the knuckles of his right hand brushed against the grip of his pistol.
Nate kept the rifle trained on him. “Easy, buddy. Take the weapon out with two fingers and set it on the floor until we get this sorted out.”
The man did as he was told.
“Now that that’s out of the way, you gonna tell me your name?”
“My name’s Roger.”
Nate’s eyes grew wide and then narrowed a second later. “Have you noticed you got a dead guy in your house?”
Nate heard Dakota come back inside. He called down for her to come join them.
Snowsuit—Roger or whoever he was—remained perfectly calm. “Thanks for the newsflash, bud. I just got back myself. Was hunting deer and got back to find him dead as a doornail. Serves him right for breaking in while I was away.”
Dakota reached the top of the stairs and started down the hallway, her pace slowing as she drew nearer.
Nate shifted to one side. “This guy says he’s your uncle Roger.”
The expression on Dakota’s face ran through a kaleidoscope of emotions. “He’s lying. I’ve never seen him before in my life.”
Both men locked eyes a nanosecond before the stranger swung his right hand in an arc, knocking the barrel of Nate’s rifle away. With Nate off balance, he thrust the heel of his boot into the soft part of Nate’s belly. Nate let out a deep moan as the wind was knocked from his lungs. He tried to bring the rifle back to bear, but not before Snowsuit grabbed hold of it too. Now they were staring eye to eye, each of them grasping the weapon, pushing and pulling. As they struggled over the gun, the rifle went off, firing repeatedly into the empty room beside them. Seconds later the G36 clicked empty. Ducking down, Dakota pulled her pistol, fighting for a clean shot.
This was a fight to the death and both men knew the score. Grunting and swearing, Snowsuit threw another kick, this time aimed at Nate’s left knee. Nate checked it and then let himself fall backwards, digging his boots into Snowsuit’s midsection as they both dropped. At the last moment, Nate pumped his legs, flipping Snowsuit over him. The man landed flat on his back with a loud boom.
Stunned from hitting the floor, Snowsuit still maintained his grip on the weapon. Both men scrambled to their feet. This time, Snowsuit was holding the now empty rifle. He pulled the trigger perhaps just to be sure the magazine was dry. That was when Nate punched him square in the face. Snowsuit reeled backwards, dropping the gun, but somehow managing to grab a fistful of Nate’s jacket as he stumbled over the top riser. For a brief moment, they teetered in that limbo that precedes all great falls. Snowsuit’s widening eyes signaled the shift from balance to instability as they both went tumbling down the narrow staircase, rolling over one another, holding on and punching the entire way down.
Nate heard the sound of crunching as they went, uncertain whether it was their bones or the wood giving way. At the bottom, he clambered to his feet right as Snowsuit threw a haymaker. A connection would surely have knocked Nate out and sealed his fate. Instead, his years of aikido kicked in. He caught Snowsuit’s punch, twisted his wrist and then struck the back of the man’s elbow, breaking his arm. Snowsuit howled in pain, rolling from Nate’s grip and back onto his feet. They were both breathing deeply now. Snowsuit’s left arm hung limp by his side.
“Stop it!” Dakota shouted, her pistol trained on his chest.
Snowsuit glanced at her and then over to the body on the floor.
“You’ve been waiting for us, haven’t you?” Nate said, out of breath, his arms still outstretched in a fighting stance.
“Only her,” Snowsuit said. A trail of blood ran down from a deep gash on his forehead.
“Where’s my uncle?” she demanded; her cheeks flushed with anger.
“That’s what I’d like to know. I got a score to settle with him. He killed two of my buddies in Rockford. Not to mention poor Tommy who walked into that booby trap. It didn’t start as anything personal. We just needed the girl. But now things are different.”
“That may be,” Nate said. “But there’s something you should know. Five and Jakes are dead.”
The light in Snowsuit’s brown eyes suddenly dimmed. “Bull.” His voice rose into a shout, but even Nate could tell he knew it was true.
What they hadn’t noticed was the table knife Snowsuit had secreted off the table next to him. He lunged. Nate’s eyes flashed; his body tensed. Snowsuit made it another step or two before Dakota shot him dead.
They stood in silence for a moment, their ears still ringing. Before them lay Snowsuit, blood pooling beneath his prone form. If it hadn’t been earlier, it was clear to Nate now these guys wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted—a path of death and destruction that led from Dakota to Roger.
“So what now?” she asked, putting away her Glock 19. “Will you at least help me clear these guys away before you go?”
“I promised I’d bring you to your uncle,” Nate said. “And I intend to keep my word.”
Dakota smiled and nodded quietly. He would get no argument from her.
Nate spent the next several minutes searching the dead for anything useful. First on the list was Snowsuit’s leather gunbelt. It fit his SIG and was a lot more comfortable than the concealed-carry holster he’d been using. Other useful items were .45 caliber rounds. Inside the top drawer of Roger’s bedroom dresser, Nate discovered a box of 30-06 to go along with the Remington 700 hunting rifle rigged in the booby trap.
Meanwhile, Dakota went through the cupboards, replenishing their food and water. They couldn’t afford to take everything since weight was an issue. Already Wayne—Godsend that he was—had begun showing signs of fatigue.
Nate was going back over Snowsuit when he found a set of keys in the man’s inside pocket.
“Wonder what these are for?” he asked, thinking out loud. He didn’t remember seeing a vehicle outside, although there was a shed next to the cabin.
Dakota glanced over. “Huh?”
“Oh, nothing,” Nate said before he realized there was something he wanted to show her. “You know how to use one of these?” He held up the Remington 700.
She let out a sardonic little laugh. “Of course, who doesn’t?”
“Dumb question, right?” he replied, shaking his head, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “I’m taking it. I hope your uncle Roger doesn’t mind.”
She seemed to consider this for a moment. “Well, he was pretty picky about who he let use his guns. How about I look after it?”
“Great idea,” Nate said. He set it back on the table and headed out to the shed. It was large enough to hold a car, but not a truck. Most of the snow in front of the blistered wooden door had already been cleared. Was this the vehicle Snowsuit and his friend had used to get here? He swung the door open and made an audible sound. The shed wasn’t hiding a truck, but a snowmobile. At least that explained their outfits. A large three-gallon gas can was seated at the back of the vehicle. With any luck, they might have just shaved a day or two off their journey.
Chapter 7
Chicago O’Hare International Airport
“We gotta get out of here,” Holly said, her breath coming in short, choppy gasps. She told them what she had seen. Once the mob broke through the reinforced glass barrier, it was only a question of time before they attacked the people of Concourse C. They were like rats in a cage.