Sleeper Cell Super Boxset (9 page)

Cooper reached around for her own handcuffs and then tried pulling Dylan close. “Yeah, and it’ll also make it easier for him to escape!” Dylan jerked backward out of the range of safety of the concrete pillar and was greeted by the burst of gunshots that skipped across the floor, nearly killing him on the spot before he returned to cover.

Before Cooper could lay a hand on him, he held her by the wrists, using his strength to keep her still. She fought back, almost reaching for her gun, with Diaz attempting to intervene. “Stop!” Dylan’s words caused her to look up at him, and he felt her muscles relax slightly. “I am not going to run.” They held eye contact, and Dylan waited for her muscles to loosen, and when they did, Dylan relinquished his own grip. “I’ll help you. However I can. Just get me to my kids. Let me make sure they’re okay.”

“You run,” Cooper said, moving close, the hardness in her face and the muscle in her jaw flexing from her clench, “and I’ll make sure your family is dragged through the mud. Even if you’re not associated with this, I’ll have them put on every major newspaper, magazine, and television show in the world. Even if it’s false, they’ll have that to follow them around with for the rest of their lives. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Every fiber in Dylan’s being was set ablaze. Even through his compliance, all he could think about was putting his hands around Cooper’s throat and squeezing until the life drained from her eyes. He knew that woman couldn’t care less about his family and what happened to them, but right now she held all the cards. He was surrounded by police officers in a shootout with the same terrorists that almost killed him on his boat.

“Let’s move, now!” The lead officer by the door made a sweeping push with a cluster of officers at his flank into the billowing smoke and raining lead that had befallen the front of the station.

Cooper roughly tapped Dylan’s cheek, bringing his focus back to her. “You stay between me and Agent Diaz, and you keep your head low, understand?” Dylan nodded his head, and then Cooper grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, with Diaz coming from behind.

Smoke hung thick in the air as the car fires continued to blaze. The smoke burned Dylan’s eyes and lungs, and he stumbled forward, doing his best to keep his attention on the back of Cooper’s head, but the amount of distractions that circled him made it difficult.

Dylan followed Cooper to the bumper of one of the police vehicles, and all three of them took a moment to catch their breath from the growing smoke. Bullets ripped through the sheet metal of the cruiser down by the trunk, and Cooper jumped up and fired retaliatory shots.

With the fires now downwind, Dylan saw the landscape more clearly. Officers and the masked terrorists emptied the magazines in their pistols and rifles, shell casings ringing against the asphalt in delayed reactions to the bullets that ejected the hot lead from the barrels and into metal, Kevlar, flesh, and bone.

One of the officers sprinted up to another car to join his partners, but before he made it, Dylan watched a bullet slice through the top half of his skull, and he crumpled to the ground like a house of cards. Bits of grey matter, bone, and squirts of blood erupted from the officer’s head as his lifeless body twitched on the ground, the brain sending the last of its messages to the arms, legs, hands, and feet before it finally came to a rest.

A sour pit churned in Dylan’s stomach, seeming to grow along with the pooling blood at the base of the dead officer’s head. A scream broke Dylan’s stupor as he watched a woman try and fend off one of the masked terrorists that pulled her backward, using her as a human shield. Her face was red and soaked with tears, her mouth distorted in pain and fear as the terrorist jammed the muzzle of his gun into the soft flesh of her neck.

Dylan eyed the officer on the ground along with the pistol in his hand. Cooper must have been reading his mind because before he could even make a lunge for the dead officer, she pulled him back by the shoulders, and he fell to the ground beside her. “Don’t do anything stupid, Captain.”

“The woman!”

“You can’t save her if you’re dead.” Cooper squeezed off a few more rounds, and Diaz mimicked her. The heat from the flames of the fires behind them started to wane as the fires ran out of fuel to consume to continue their greedy rage.

Dylan poked his head up and looked through the back of the busted window of the cop car. The officers had done little to penetrate the wall of terrorists in front of them. Then, through the shattered glass, one of the terrorists locked eyes with him. Dylan quickly ducked, and the series of shouts and gunshots that followed were all aimed toward the small squad car they were sitting behind.

What little glass was left exploded from the window casings and clinked against the trunk, hood, asphalt, and the tops of Dylan, Cooper, and Diaz’s heads. The tires blew out on the driver side of the vehicle, and Dylan dropped his head lower to remain concealed behind the cover of the car. Holes from the bullets entering the hood and roof started to combine to completely tear away any shielding of metal. Dylan kept his hands covering the top of his head, feeling the vibrations from each shot and wondering if the next one would kill him.

Finally, the gunshots ended, and before Dylan had time to react, both Cooper and Diaz returned fire, taking turns shooting and ducking as they reloaded. Most of the other officers were dead, and those that were left looked as though they were running out of ammo and stamina to stay in the fight.

“We need to head back to the station!” Cooper said, screaming between the gunshots coming from Diaz.

The three of them huddled in a corner at the back bumper and looked to the station’s entrance, and the daunting sixty feet that separated them. Diaz grabbed Cooper and Dylan by the collar. “You two make for the door. I’ll cover you.”

Cooper shook her head. “It’s too risky. We need to thin out the herd.” Automatic machine-gun fire peppered the squad car to further her point.

Dylan glanced around frantically. If they stayed there much longer, there wouldn’t be a car left to hide behind. Another officer tried to make a run for it and was immediately gunned down. Six bullets left red patches in his back as the body lost control of its function and smacked to the ground, where he joined his fallen brothers. Dylan leaned back and rested his head on the license plate of the cruiser and closed his eyes. He couldn’t die here.

A light breeze brought with it a waft of smoke, and Dylan choked from the virulent fumes. When he opened his eyes, the squad cars that had been set ablaze continued to keep a light smolder. Dylan cocked his head to the side then immediately checked his pockets. “I need a knife.”

“What?” Diaz asked. “I already let you out of your cuffs. I’m not going to give you a weapon.”

“I can get us out of here!” Dylan said, the hesitation and fear that had consumed him boldly turning to anger in the moment. “Just trust me.”

Cooper rolled up her left pant leg and pulled a blade from the side of her boots. She extended it to Dylan, and when he grabbed it, she kept hold as he tried to tug it away. Her eyes locked with his. “Don’t make me regret this, Captain.” She released her grip on the blade, and Dylan flattened himself on the ground and pulled himself under the car.

“Just don’t let them shoot me,” Dylan said. With the tires blown out on the driver side, he had to keep to the passenger side on his crawl. His stomach, legs, and arms scraped against the grainy, dirty asphalt, black grime smearing against his skin and clothes. He kept his head ducked low, and he could only turn it slightly sideways before his face smacked into the vehicle’s undercarriage, banging the corner of his forehead hard on the greasy underbelly.

Dylan opened the blade then reached for the fuel line and sliced it in half. Gasoline splashed onto the ground, and the harsh scent stung Dylan’s nostrils as he did his best to quickly scoot backward. The echo of the gunfire that vibrated through the car was dulled while he was underneath, but the moment his head was out from under the bumper, the roar of the gunfire was in full effect.

The moment Cooper and Diaz got a whiff of the gas that had leaked onto Dylan’s arm, Cooper flashed a grin and tossed him the lighter. “Just don’t catch yourself on fire.”

“I’ll do my best.” Dylan thumbed the striker and brought the flame down to the gasoline that had followed his escape. The asphalt caught fire in a haze of waving blues and oranges. The fire followed the trail of fuel underneath the car, and smoke billowed up and around the sides. Dylan, Cooper, and Diaz covered their mouths and noses with the front collars of their shirts. Once the car was set ablaze, they used the cover of smoke and fire to run to the station.

The terrorists fired blindly behind them as they skidded, coughed, hacked, and then collapsed behind the clustered cover of desks. Dylan rolled to his side, his lungs tight and his throat on fire, his brain still woozy from the inhalation of the gas and smoke. He rested his forehead against the tile while on all fours.

Diaz and Cooper checked their weapons. “I’ve only got one magazine left,” Diaz said, sliding it into his 9mm.

“Me too,” Cooper answered. “We need to head out the back before those assholes come in after us.”

“There’s no transportation back there.”

“Then we’ll have to hoof it on foot. Let’s move.”

All three of them checked their six as they moved back through the station. Dylan bumped into chairs and stepped over and on desk trinkets that had been upturned in the chaos. A fine layer of dust coated everything in the precinct like white chalk.

When Dylan placed his hand on the door handle, Cooper stopped him before he could exit. “Better let me check it out first. I wouldn’t want my one good suspect to get gunned down after all this.” Cooper cracked the door open slowly then rushed out, using the sights on her pistol to scan the area, and once it was cleared, she motioned for Diaz and Dylan to join her. “Let’s go.”

Dylan had one foot out the door when gunfire sounded behind them. The terrorists had pushed their way inside and were advancing on their position. Diaz fired back, and as Dylan rushed out, he pulled the agent with him. Before the door closed behind them, Diaz collapsed to the ground, and Dylan along with him.

“Shit!” Diaz rolled on the ground, clutching his left shoulder, blood oozing out from between his fingers. Cooper rushed to his side, helping him up, while Dylan pulled a dumpster over to block the door. When Dylan offered a hand, Diaz slapped it away. 

“We need to get him to a hospital,” Dylan said.

“We don’t know if the power’s out to the whole city or not,” Cooper replied. “And the first thing we need to do is find a car.”

Dylan scoured the yard, checking door handles and windows, anything and everything, but the amount of cars in the back was slim. “I can’t—” He turned in circles, looking for an escape, looking for the right words to finish. “There isn’t anything here!”

Cooper and Diaz hobbled together in a stumble, with Cooper trying to keep pressure on the back of Diaz’s shoulder. The door pounded against the dumpster, quickly followed by bullets, as the terrorists tried to push their way through. Cooper reached into her pocket and pulled out a ring. She tossed it to Dylan. “Slam that against the window. It’ll shatter like ice.”

Dylan placed it on his finger and gave the driver-side window of a beige Buick a forceful tap. The car window shattered just like she said, and Dylan quickly unlocked the other doors. Cooper helped Diaz into the backseat then jumped in the passenger seat while Dylan cracked open the panel underneath the car and fiddled with the wires.

“Done this before, have we?” Cooper asked. “You really are just the shining example of an upstanding citizen, aren’t you?”

A spark flickered as Dylan combined two exposed wires, and the engine turned over. More gunfire blasts peppered the door, and the dumpster almost shook free. “C’mon, c’mon.” The engine finally cranked to life, and Dylan slammed the shifter into drive. He pressed the accelerator to the floor and turned the steering wheel sharply, tires spinning and screeching against the pavement as the dumpster broke free and the terrorists poured out of the back of the station.

The rear window shattered, and all three of them felt the vibrations from the thud of each bullet that impacted the Buick’s trunk. When Dylan made an immediate left, the firing finally stopped, and all of them raised their heads, looking back, waiting to see if anyone would follow them.

“Everyone all right?” Dylan asked.

Cooper checked herself then nodded and examined Diaz lying flat on his back, still clutching his shoulder. Diaz had broken out in a cold sweat and was shaking. When Cooper felt his forehead, she quickly checked the glove compartment and side pockets on the doors. “He’s burning up. We need to get him to a hospital. Now.” She found a half-drunk bottle of water and climbed back between the seats. She lifted Diaz’s head up and then rested it on her lap, feeding him the water to help rehydrate.

“Boston General is just a few blocks away,” Dylan replied. “If it’s still there,” he muttered under his breath. The explosions had caused a few of the store owners, up early to begin their day for the weekend crowd, to come out onto the streets, but other than that and a few delivery trucks, the rest of the city was still sleeping, although he didn’t think it would be for long, considering the loud disruptions that no doubt rocked the rest of the city.

The speedometer on the Buick tipped seventy, and Dylan barely stopped to check the streets at stop signs and lights, blowing past them in a blur. Cooper kicked the back of his seat. “Hey, the hospital won’t do us any good if you kill us before we get there.”

Dylan glanced down at his speed. He hadn’t realized how fast he was going. “Sorry.” He eased off the accelerator. He found that his heart was still racing, but it felt less intense. Either he was calming down, or he was getting used to the fact of being shot at. He hoped it was the former. “Listen. My kids. I still need to—”

The truck peeled around the corner without even stopping, colliding into the passenger-side front corner of the Buick’s hood. The force of the collision crumpled the car’s frame like tin foil. Dylan’s head cracked into the driver-side window and shattered the glass, along with his left shoulder. Cooper was thrown into the front seat with him as the car spun away from the point of the collision.