Chapter 8: Hammer Down

"Move! Run! Go now!" Holly's voice blasted through the plane's cabin just at the wheels came to a stop. She freed the door and the steps went down, the short blonde shouldering the machine gun as she jumped out.

"Run where?" Gene shouted into Holly's ear after he flew down the steps, the rest of the family just behind. "Where?!"

Holly pointed to the extended black SUV parked a dozen yards away. Gene pushed his wife and kids ahead, raced after. The SUV doors swung open on their own, except for the driver's door which remained sealed. Gene panted as Tamara pushed Finch and Logan into the middle row and climbed in. Lauren bolted into the vehicle with Gene on her heals.

Harvey came running, pistol in hand, then sprinted past the SUV and took cover behind a small tractor. The SUV doors closed just as crackles of automatic fire swept past. Holly shouted, ran up, ripped open the door and slipped in next to Gene.

A male voice boomed from the front, "Harvey, let's move!"

The short black man pulled something out of his pants, paused, tossed it off into the blackness, followed quickly by another. As he leapt into the SUV, twin explosions pounded Gene's ears from the right, followed by more gunfire.

The vehicle shot forward, hit something which gave way with a crunch, and raced off the pavement and onto the grass. They slid side-to-side as the driver accelerated, twisted the wheel hard left, yelled back, "hang on, get down!"

A loud explosion rocked the SUV from the left but didn't stop it. More automatic fire met them, the driver yelled, "oh, shit! Goddammit!" He ripped the wheel left hard again. Gene was thrown into Lauren, his hand momentarily grasping between her knees.

Another hard left, then a right, more gunfire. The darkness made it difficult for Gene to see out the thick tinted glass. He was out of breath, agitated. Lauren grabbed his hand and held on tight.

The only one not appearing terrified was Holly, who grinned as she exclaimed, "Jesus, Georges, you haven't introduced us to your friends."

"Shove it, Holly. Don't blame me. They knew we were coming. If you'd have been thirty seconds later, I'd have had to leave and you'd have been on your own."

"Coward."

"Fuck you."

"Maybe."

"Whatever, Holly. First Squad has rallied at the safe house. We're not sure if it is compromised."

"Guess that hinders the plan to not die."

"It fucks up everything if they found it. You know that. We barely have plans for..." He cut off. "If you think this was chaos, try blacking a safe house and getting to another with no warning. Good fucking luck." The driver growled, seemed to dismiss the young blonde. "I gotta put the hammer down. Fucking hold on."

Lauren's terror level had been high on the flight, but the escape from the airport was worse. The explosions, the gunfire, the near collisions, sharp corners at speed, it left her gasping for breath and praying for her life. She'd instinctively taken her dad's hand in hers, needed that reassurance, needed to feel that he was in control.

She glanced at him, saw the same fear in his eyes. She squeezed his fingers tightly and tried to hang on.

"Tail's reporting us clear to head for the house, no one following us." After almost thirty minutes of racing across backroads in Belgium at incredible speeds, Georges slowed, turned North, and acted as if everything was normal.

Holly's grin had faded, the blonde suddenly looking tired to Gene. He leaned into her, asked, "what happens if the safe house is compromised?"

"We leave."

"Leave where."

She gave him a flat look, "dunno. They haven't told me yet."

"And if we don't leave? What then? What happens to us?"

"All in time, Gene, all in time. Right now, just keep your pretty head down and enjoy the ride."

Logan had stopped keeping his head down some time ago, trying to peer out the dark windows to catch shadows of hills and buildings. His terror had been high after the first few minutes, but once the adrenaline slowed and his breathing returned, he started to feel interested in what was going on. All the shouting had scared him a bit, but talk of safe houses and First Squad had caught his interest.

He felt like he was in a movie, one of the ones where the bad guys always lose in the end. He smiled slowly, letting his mind construct the plot and follow himself as the hero. Heroes get the girl in the end. That's the rule. Wonder who I'll get... He thought of his sister then, wasn't sure why. She was pretty enough. Yeah, Lauren would make a good prize for the hero. Wonder if she'd kiss me...

As the action played out in his head, he let his awareness of the ride move into the background. A John Williams theme played loud inside his mind as he caught a rope swing across a chasm, avoiding bullets and rockets, grabbing Lauren by the hand, and delivering her to the waiting speedboat. Engines roaring to life, they sped off, firing automatic rifles that never seemed to need reloading.

"Whoa ... ok, First Squad's moved out the perimeter. Hold fast."

Logan's mind snapped back to attention as he saw two grey-camouflaged men approaching the SUV as it slowed to a stop. It made him feel important, on a secret mission, ready to take on the world. Maybe I am a hero...

The engine drone was steady as the driver called back. "Mike-One has no clear indication that the safe house is compromised. Plan is to regroup there for the next hour and make a call. If the Colonel isn't certain by then, we have to black it and move. Plans forthcoming on that..."

Holly nodded her head, said to Gene, "not unexpected. When No Limits got into our sys, we caught it almost immediately, but they accessed some things, like the Whitehead surveillance. Possibly a safe house or two. We just don't know for certain. We lost two agents, though, that first day. No Limits got enough to identify them. Two more last weekend. A few others went to ground, we haven't heard from them since. Doesn't leave many of us still operating, no more than fifty."

Gene said nothing, stared ahead as they rounded a bend and rose on a sloped hill. Farms dotted the rural area, just enough light from the rising moon to see barns and fencing. Holly said thinly, "we own all this. Pretty good cover until now. No one expects a bunch of dairy farmers to be hiding the most wanted man in the world."

"What?"

"Didn't I tell you? No Limits isn't the only group interested in you. No, those weren't No Limits agents back there. From the arms and tactics, I'm guessing one of the less well-trained groups, like Kino or Playa Gordo. They have big goals, but they're new to the game and underfunded. We know Kino's been watching that airfield for at least six months. Three quarters of our flights in and out are decoys. Somehow they knew you were arriving, though. Hmm..."

"Goddammit..." Gene muttered, the situation quickly feeling too heavy to ponder, too impossible to outrun.

The farm house was abuzz with activity. Soldiers in grey camouflage shuffled equipment, staging it in piles in the grass outside the front door. People rushed from room to room, talking on the small phones similar to the one in Tamara's purse, the conversations coded to the point where it seemed they spoke in a pidgin English.

Tamara sat nervously beside her husband and children, eyes darting, bloodshot, trying her best to remain calm. Exhaustion threatened her mood and her ability to think. She exhaled sharply, sipped the coffee offered moments earlier by a thin young man wearing a t-shirt and bermuda shorts. He looked so out of place, could have been a surfer, a college-age frat boy, even a barista the way he slung cups of the hot beverage to anyone who wanted one.

They'd been seated for almost fifteen minutes. Holly and Harvey had disappeared into the basement along with Georges, the driver. Tamara could see the weariness on Gene's face, lines of tight concern that sagged when he blinked. She still wasn't able to understand how her husband had kept such powerful secrets from her, and it pained her to wonder what else he might have lied about over the years.

Harvey returned, motioned Gene to follow him. Tamara started to rise, to go with him. Harvey shook his head, said, "just Gene right now. I'll come get you in a few minutes. There's toast and jam in the kitchen. See that you and your children get something fast, we may be moving again shortly, dunno when we might get a chance to find a meal."

Tamara nodded weakly, shot Gene a tight smile as he followed Harvey, then went to the kitchen where several people milled silently with bags shouldered. Almost everyone wore a weapon of some sort. Many had pistols. The soldiers had black rifles, silver handguns, knife handles sticking up from sheathes attached to thighs or lower legs. Grenades were tucked into loops over thick vests. A couple of men had large tubes strapped to their backs, hard metal cases belted to their sides.

Tamara shivered, tried not to think about being in a war. Things had been so comfortable at home. The worst of their worries were usually related to which of the children were fighting at any given time. Those 'wars' were ones filled with words and tantrums, not bullets.

She pulled out plates from a cabinet and loaded them with toast, jam, butter, and strips of a rough-cut meat that looked like ham but smelled like bacon. Tamara spotted a platter holding oranges, put several in her purse, and returned to the room where her children waited restlessly, handing each a plate of food.

"Eat. I know you may not feel like it, but eat. Right now. Scarf it down. We may not have time to eat later."

She bit into the sticky-sweet toast coated in currant jam and for a few moments, did her best to swallow the thick lumps despite the way her throat constricted and her stomach threatened to rebel.

"I'm Fleur. Colonel Densa Fleur. I command First Squad and have responsibility for this safe house and those inside it, including you and your family."

The tall French woman wore tight black pants that hugged her subtle curves, a tight black mesh top that both flattened and accentuated her breasts. Two pistols were strapped to her chest on holsters fed over her shoulders in an x-shape. Two more pistols were on her waist, a short automatic rifle over her back. She wore shaded glasses, an earpiece. Her long brown hair was braided tightly and pulled back behind her. Gene swore she was going for Lara Croft.

"Gene ... I'm Gene Polanski."

"I know who you are, Mason Shay. I expect Holly has brought you up to speed on why you're here?"

"Sort of. I know No Limits wants me dead and you think I know something useful."

"Good enough for now." Fleur poured over a map a moment, looked up, said, "do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Know anything useful. Now would be a good time to spill it."

Gene shook his head, "I don't know. It's been years since ... since Whitehead. Nothing makes sense. We were into a lot of things ... none of them that I can connect ... to all this..."

Fleur studied him a moment, returned to her map, silent, sipping coffee. A young woman rushed up with a piece of paper. Fleur read it, crumbled it, tossed into the fire burning in the fireplace. Gene had seen several chunks of paper tossed there already.

"You're under my command now, Shay. You do what I say, follow my sergeants' orders, no hesitation, got it? They say run, you run. They say fight back, you fight back. We'll get you arms soon."

The thought of being given guns was no salve to his fears. He managed, "Yes, understood. Please ... Mason Shay ... isn't me anymore. Gene, call me Gene."

"Fine. Gene." A man called down the stairs, the monotonous stream of words not registering meaning in Gene's mind. Fleur spoke sharply. "We're moving. Get your family ready. Long day ahead of us." Gene nodded as Harvey led him up the stairs.

He heard Fleur shouting for Holly as he ascended the steps, the short blonde passing him without notice as he rose to the top. More shouts sounded as instructions were barked and movement became frantic. Gene felt the tension from everyone, looks of measured concern on most faces, outright fear on some. He hoped his own was measured, though, inside, his guts were churning and his mind racing with anxious anticipation.

Lauren's discomfort became too much to bear as she watched men and women hauling heavy boxes, bags, cartons, weapons, and equipment out of the house. She'd used the bathroom, her period coming heavily. Already she'd changed out the tissue twice since arriving. She found the nerve to ask a dark-haired woman wearing a faded green shirt and pants, "do you ... do you have tampons? Please?"

The woman shrugged, didn't respond, kept moving. Lauren sank back and felt miserable. A round-faced red-haired man in grey camouflage sank to his knees beside her, said, "I'll get you some. Hold two," then rose and disappeared into the back of the farmhouse. He reappeared a moment later, a package of twenty tampons passed into Lauren's hand.

She thanked him, disappeared into the bathroom once more, finally able to properly stem the flow of her menstrual blood. Lauren looked in disgust at the spots of dark red that had stained her grey panties. The bag holding the clothes she'd brought had already been taken from her, leaving her no access to anything clean.