“You’re sure?” Sims asked.
“As sure as I can be.”
South did make the most sense. A turn to the north would have meant heading into the meat of the storm.
“Don’t think we’re going to find anything else here,” Sims said loudly enough for the other men to hear. “Everyone back on board.”
Back in the warmth of the aircraft’s cabin, he pulled up on his tablet a map of the state and studied it for a moment.
“South toward Butte,” he told the pilot. “Your destination’s the intersection of the I-90 and the I-15 a couple miles west of town. We’ll see if we can pick up another sign of them there.”
“Yes, sir,” the pilot said.
8
Chloe’s eyes shot open at the sound of the gunshot. She rolled off her bed and onto the floor, unsure where it was coming from. Once she realized none of the bullets were flying through her room, she scrambled across the floor and yanked on her boots.
“What the hell’s going on?” Matt’s voice boomed out of the radio in her jacket pocket.
As she grabbed the coat and pulled it on, Jared Lawrence, one of the men on watch, answered. “We’ve got at least two shooters. Think they’re on the lot just south of us.”
That would be the equipment rental place Chloe had seen next door. It was full of tractors and trucks and trailers parked around a large, central building.
“Do you have an exact position?” Matt asked.
“No, the snow’s too—” Jared cut himself off as another burst of bullets sailed over the motel.
“Jesus,” Matt said. “Everyone stay down. Jared, we need to silence those guns.”
Chloe clicked the talk button. “I’m on it.”
Brandon ducked down next to the motel wall. The gunfire sounded like it was coming from somewhere beyond the parking area. Worried that he might still be in the line of fire, he darted over to the cover of one of the Humvees, and then raised his head high enough to peer through the windows of the vehicle. All he could see were darkness and snow.
Over the radio inside the Humvee, he heard Matt’s voice. “What the hell’s going on?”
The answer confirmed what Brandon had already figured out.
He ducked back down as more gunfire rang out.
When it stopped, he could hear Matt say, “Everyone stay down. Jared, we need to silence those guns.”
The response came almost immediately. “I’m on it.” Not Lawrence’s voice. Chloe’s.
I’m on it? Was she going after the shooters alone? Even Brandon knew that wasn’t a good idea.
He looked through the window again, this time searching the inside of the vehicle. Lying across the floor in the back were two M16 rifles. Careful and quiet, he opened the rear door and grabbed one. After checking that the mag was full, he eased the door closed. Because of his location, he was sure he’d have heard Chloe run by if she’d decided to approach the other property from the front, but there had been no footsteps in that direction, so she must’ve been heading around back.
He reached the rear of the motel only seconds before a shadowy form passed through the falling snow. He hesitated only long enough to convince himself it was indeed Chloe before he stepped off the walkway and disappeared into the storm.
“Get on the floor!”
Josie’s eyelids fluttered open as she pulled herself out of a deep sleep.
“Josie! Down!” her father yelled.
Before she could move, she heard the smack-smack-smack of several items hitting the roof of the motel.
Bullets.
As she started to roll off her bed, she saw her father struggling to detangle himself from his covers. She stepped across the gap that divided their beds and yanked off the blanket.
“Don’t worry about me!” her dad yelled. “Get down!”
Ignoring him, she grabbed his hand and helped him scoot off the mattress onto the floor.
“Are you okay?” Josie asked once they were lying side by side. “Did you get hit?”
“I’m fine,” her dad said. He raised his head and looked toward the area beyond the beds. “Brandon, are you all right?”
No response.
“Brandon?” Josie asked. “Are you okay?”
Still no answer.
“Brandon!” her father yelled.
He started to push himself up, but Josie put a hand on his arm.
“I’ll check,” she said.
As she crawled to the end of the beds, she prayed she wouldn’t find her brother lying in a pool of blood. No blood, but no Brandon, either. Only the blankets he’d been using for a mattress.
“Brandon, where are you?” she asked.
She moved out from between the beds so she could check the rest of the room.
“Is he there?” her dad asked.
“No. He’s not in the room.”
“What about the bathroom?” her father asked.
The bathroom. Why hadn’t she thought of that? He’s probably hiding in the tub.
Getting to her feet but staying low, she sprinted across the room.
“Brandon?” she said as she reached the open door.
He wasn’t there, either.
“Did you find him?” her dad asked.
“No, Dad, he’s not here.”
More bullets flew over the building. Josie dropped to the carpet with a scream.
“Are you hit? Josie, are you okay?”
“I’m okay. It just startled me, that’s all.”
“Come back over here.”
When she reached him, she said, “Where could he have gone?”
“He’ll be fine,” her father said. “Brandon knows how to take care of himself.”
That may have been true, but Josie sensed her father was as worried as she was.
Chloe worked her way west, onto the property directly behind the motel, before turning south. Her plan was to circle around to the other side of the equipment lot, and come at the shooters from behind. With the dark and the snow, they would likely not know she was there until too late.
As she moved parallel to the back of the equipment-business property, she was able to use the sounds of the shots to determine that the gunmen were on the roof of the big building at the center of the lot. She was also pretty sure there were only two shooters, or maybe one person firing two different rifles. Didn’t mean there wouldn’t be others around, however.
She reached the far side of the property, and moved down the chain-link fence until she was approximately halfway back to the main street. Up and over she went, her landing cushioned by a waist-high drift of snow.
The building was about a hundred feet wide, street side to back, and a hundred and fifty from Chloe’s end to the side closest to the motel. Two floodlights were mounted on poles out front, lighting up the parking area. One was positioned wide enough to spill a bit of light on the south side, where she approached the building.
The roof peaked at the center, with the low end hanging off the side she’d approached. About thirty feet back from the front was a utility room built against the wall, maybe four feet square. All she needed to do was get on top of that, and she could easily reach the eaves and pull herself all the way up.
A noise behind her, faint, but sounding very much like something falling into the snow.
She whirled around, her rifle instantly off her shoulder, pointing into the storm. But whatever had made the noise was out of her limited range of visibility.
Sticking to the tracks she’d already made, she retraced her route back to the fence. Her fear was that the shooters up top had a friend down here, but she made it all the way to the drift she’d landed in without seeing anything.