Page 87 of Thunder Pass

“Well, I am a mechanic.”

The guard stuck out his hand for his weapon. “Gun first.”

“How about gun second, after I get my ride?”

“Nope. Gun first. Those are my orders. And if you don’t hand it over, goodbye to the four-by.”

“Well, damn. You drive a hard bargain.” He swung his body so he was facing the four-by, which was even closer to the fuel storage tank than he’d remembered.

“Hey,” yelled the guard, but it was too late. Gunnar fired two quick shots. One at the body of the fuel tank, just above the four-by. And the second at the battery of the four-by.

It hurt to shoot up a perfectly good, reparable, ATV. Pinky, among other recyclers, would be furious. But it was all worth it when the four-by exploded, sending a spark into the stream of gas coming from the storage tank.

He ducked and covered his head as the tank exploded with a massive detonation. Bits of steel hurled through the air, one of them embedding itself in his forearm as it shielded his head.

Chaos.

He who creates the chaos has the advantage.

Through the ringing in his ears, he heard shouts and the pounding of feet across the ground. Staying in a low crouch, he ran around the side of the Quonset hut. Everyone else was rushing out of the structure, either with fire extinguishers or guns. The guard who’d escorted him was flat on the ground; and he wasn’t the only one. Gunnar hoped they were okay but didn’t take the time to find out.

Instead he raced in the direction the guard had looked, ever so briefly, when Gunnar had mentioned the microwave tower. It was past the Quonset hut, on a rise just out of sight, with its own generator happily supplying its power.

A bullet whizzed past his shoulder, bare inches away. Damn, someone had followed him. He risked a quick glance behind and saw that it was Luke. Fuck. Luke was an excellent shot. The only reason he’d missed was that he was running too.

He didn’t have a gun anymore—Luke’s had gotten knocked out of his hand by the explosion. Just go. Just go, he told himself. Get to that generator.

There it was, just yards away, a red Honda 15,000 watt beauty. As another bullet hit the ground a foot away from him, he dove for a grass hump next to the generator, landing with a painful thud on top of sharp grass stubs.

He reached for the generator, then yanked his hand back as a bullet grazed the skin of his arm. “Fuck!” he yelled out loud.

Get it done. Turn it off. He shot out his arm again, and turned the key to the off position, then yanked it out and threw it into the grass. The hum of the machine stopped. Hopefully other things stopped, too, like everyone’s comms. And hopefully Luke would have to go activate their backup system and leave him alone.

No such luck. A booted foot slammed into his back and pinned him to the ground. “You little fucker,” Luke growled. “You’re just like your father, getting in my way. No fucking more.”

Gunnar’s face was squished into the dirt, his heart pounding, his arm bleeding. He didn’t want to die, but if he did, at least he’d done something to protect the town that had always protected him. At least he’d fallen in love. At least he’d told Ruth he loved her. At least he’d helped her free herself from her past.

He could die proud of himself. He closed his eyes as he felt metal against the back of his head.

The sound of a gunshot made his entire body jolt. Something fell on top of him.

But he seemed to still be alive. He opened his eyes. Yup, there was that same blade of grass he’d been staring at before the gunshot. Except now it dripped with blood.

He rolled over, no easy feat when Luke’s body was on top of him. Was he dead? He didn’t have time to check, because a six-wheeler ATV was racing toward him, taking fire from two guards running after it. He swiped blood off his face to see better, and let out a shout when he saw Ruth behind the wheel and his father in the passenger seat, holding a sniper rifle.

He scrambled onto his knees and grabbed for Luke’s gun. He used one shaking arm to stabilize the other as he took aim at the truck’s pursuers. He hit one in the thigh, and that was enough to stop both of them, as the other dropped back to help his injured comrade.

The ATV slowed down as it reached Gunnar, but it didn’t stop. His father reached a hand out to yank him inside. He grabbed onto it and flung himself into the rig.

He overshot the landing, ending up partly on the gearshift, partly on Ruth’s lap—and entirely where he wanted to be. With her.

As the three of them hurtled down the slope on the ATV, they heard more gunshots ringing out behind them. Gunnar pushed himself up so he was shielding Ruth with his body, in case any stray bullets made it that far.

“Sit down,” his father snapped. “Don’t make yourself a target.”

“You’re not in charge here, Sergeant Grant.”

He didn’t have time to sort out his emotions at the moment, but he was pretty sure there was some anger in there. Also, plenty of relief that his father was alive, and also a major dose of gratitude—he’d just saved Gunnar’s life, after all.

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