To their left: a hundred feet of vertical drop-off.
Karin felt her stomach lurch; mouth suddenly dry as old bones. Above, still on the main road, the blackened, flaming hulk of the white truck lurched to and fro, the screams of its surviving occupants tearing at the hills. Black-and-whites flashed by, sirens whooping it up. Karin watched Callahan struggle with the wheel and the curve of the path ahead, all their fates in his hands.
“Shit.”
She ran to the right-hand side, pushing at the metal side, screaming at her colleagues to do the same. Palladino was on it in an instant, the rest just a moment behind. They could all feel the sway and roll of the body. Their efforts threw the truck to the right just as a left-hand camber would have sent it tipping to the left and into the yawning valley below.
“Keep at it,” Karin said, then leapt back to the viewing panel.
“Good job.”
Callahan, sweating, bloodied and bruised, now flung the wheel to the right as a narrow gap appeared, bouncing and jarring off either side, but sending the truck through. Back onto the road. Cop cars littered the highway, swerving out of the way as the army truck bounced among them.
“Thought we were dog food back there,” Callahan said.
“Not this lot,” Karin said. “They ain’t tasty enough.”
“Thank God you didn’t say ‘too young to die’. They all say that.”
“We’re too old for that,” Karin said emotionlessly. “And we don’t cry. So let’s take this last mofo out.”
Callahan sighted between two cop cars at the last white truck ahead.
“Like your style, Blake. I really do.”
Karin checked her gun.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Mullholland twisted and wound through the hills; green, gray, brown and mottled like the hide of a huge snake, its sharp bends, sudden drop-offs and incredible views across LA as internationally famous as the city through which it slithered. Day trippers, joggers, dog walkers and a thousand others constantly walked its length and the environs all around, relaxed, peaceful and inspirational, but today the twists, turns and loops shook and thundered with something far less motivating.
An old, beaten truck hammered down the narrow roads, clattering and banging from side to side and forcing oncoming traffic into the dirt. Its rear door was raised and swarming with white men sporting facial tattoos and skinhead-cuts, their dirty white vests revealing lean, muscled bodies and baggy jeans, boxer shorts emblazoned with names like Calvin Klein, Hugo Boss and Tommy Hilfiger. They hefted automatic weapons taken from crates which they had at one time been trying to transport to the docks. Not anymore. Now, it was fight or die. Take ’em all with you. To the end, my brother!
Cops cars sped after them, sirens and lights switched on, an onslaught against the countryside. Then came a black-painted truck filled with army trainees.
Karin kept her gun aimed, and a full rhetoric going for the benefit of her fellow recruits. The guys hung on tightly, already bruised from stumbling around the rear of the truck.
“Hard right,” she said. “Hang on.”
Callahan barely slowed, flinging the vehicle around the shoulder and keeping inches off the police cars ahead. As they all straightened, the gunrunners raised weapons and continued taking potshots; some grinning, laughing and giving high fives, others sitting with sick looks on their faces among the crates. The mental state of these men followed a curve all the way from the “barely there” to “screwball insane”.
Karin didn’t care about that. Her thoughts and fears were for civilians and then the cops and her team. This was so much more than training now; this was the very thing they had been training for. The test of their mettle and their might; their critical skills.
Her mind flicked through the intense havoc that had been the last several weeks. Settling in had lasted mere minutes, whilst for the rest of the time she’d worked twice as hard as everyone else just to keep up. Before she started with these guys she thought she’d been fit. Now she knew civilian fitness and military fitness were measured on very different scales. An impossible feat for a gym rat might be an everyday exploit for a fully trained soldier.
Each day she grew stronger, fitter, more agile. Each day her knowledge grew. Though her brilliant mind suited her to geeky, indoor work, she pursued the outdoor vocations, following the narrative she’d told Drake to the absolute letter. She didn’t believe her progress would be reported, but every angle should be covered. Her future plans were incredibly complex, and called for many months of intense toil to put into action.
The deaths of her parents and brother had affected her badly, hammering her already fragile mind into submission. Events in her youth where responsible and authority figures had failed to help save the life of her friend had damaged her forever, turning her into a pensive, soul-searching deliberate drop-out. The SPEAR team gave her a lifeline, a real purpose and became her rock when her family was killed at the hands of the Blood King. They had all lost somebody, and forged deeper bonds. Then, as life grew bearable again and an acceptable future with Komodo bloomed, her love had been snatched away once again.
Karin never stood a chance.
Never again.
She worked now not only to chase the past away, to destroy those creeping nightmares that hung and lurked all around, but also to build a barrier based on core strength and high principles. She wanted to be told what to do, to follow a regime, to train until it all went away.
At least for now.
This was more than she had bargained for, but more than welcome too. She sighted her gun on one of the men in the back of the truck and squeezed the trigger. Blood splashed a nearby crate and the man tumbled backward then fell onto the road, pin-wheeling like a discarded rag-doll along the asphalt. One of the cop cars — already shot up through repeated attempts to kill the officers — swerved to miss him, leaving smoking rubber in its wake.
“Gonna be in a shitstorm when this is all done,” Hildreth said.
“Dude,” Karin said. “We’re in one right now, along with unsuspecting mothers and fathers and hard-working cops. Do you want to give the order to back off?”
She looked around, and sensed Palladino do the same beside her. Hildreth stayed silent though, studying the far wall. Palladino leaned in.
“Want me to shoot a few? Give the girl a few tips?”
“I got a tip for you, Dino. Leave me the hell alone.”
Callahan made the choice and swept past the swerving cop car, until he was nudging the back of the lead black-and-white. The trucks were by now dropping out of the hills and heading toward the highway and civilian centers. As Mullholland dipped it also performed a sharp switchback close to an on-ramp and it was here Callahan suggested a large force of cops would be waiting.
“No way will they let it on the freeway,” he said.
Karin held on as Callahan gunned it once more. “What are you thinking?” she asked.
“That cops’re gonna die.”
He punched inside the leading police car as it slowed around a bend, skirting the dirt and shrubbery at the side of the road and jerking the truck from side to side. His right side mirror brushed the roof of the other car and then Callahan was in front, swerving again toward the rear of the first truck. To both sides, incredible vistas opened up, from some well-known backlot studios, to superstar residences and production buildings belonging to some of the best known names in Hollywoodland.
Karin sweated under her helmet and vest. Her mouth was dry, her teeth gritted together like two bags of rocks. The stench of body odor permeated the truck. Muffled swearing came from every side and Perry sat at the back, looking as if he might throw up. None of the guys looked like they wanted to take her place.