part0028

Hatch pressed the Kimber Custom II 45 caliber semi-automatic handgun in front of her, letting it lead the way into the cafeteria. She held her breath as she stepped onto old boards that creaked as she walked. She kept a low profile, and kept her knees bent, maintaining a stable shooting platform.

Hatch was moving slower than normal but tried not to give credence to the torn ligaments in her ankle incessantly demanding attention with each step she took. The boot laces cinched tight would keep everything in place. She’d deal with the fallout later. There were more important tasks at hand.

She pushed the pain from her mind and focused her aim on the back half of the room. The cafeteria had been divided using bedsheets, tarps, and drop cloths strung across a clothesline. It was a poorly designed partition separating the clubhouse from the lab, and she marveled at the fact the idiots hadn’t blown themselves up already.

The last thermal image that she had seen put Lawson on the other side of those sheets. And the fact that Grizz and the other members hovered around it like hornets protecting their queen gave Hatch good cause to believe he was still in there. She had hope he was still alive.

Hatch moved along the wall; her left shoulder close but not touching as she approached the gap in the partition. Without a moment's hesitation or a faltered step, Hatch pressed through the opening, letting the Kimber lead the way again. She brought the front sight up on the first target she saw. He stood in the center of the room, tying a rope to a backboard on the floor where Lawson was strapped.

MacIntosh turned. Hatch had her pistol up, pointed center mass, hovering over MacIntosh's heart. He had a small silver revolver in his right hand, which did not move. His trigger finger remained indexed alongside the frame.

Hatch scanned the room to make sure they were alone. "If you're the man I think you are, you're gonna need to trust me and drop that gun."

MacIntosh slowly shook his head. "I can’t do that."

"Listen, if it’s about going back, I’ve already talked to your parole officer. I can work it out."

"I'm not afraid of that."

"Then why aren't you dropping the gun?"

"Because there's something I've gotta do."

"There's no time for this.” Hatch heard a banging and looked over her shoulder. “We've gotta go now."

"I don’t know, and that’s why we have to go."

"Where’s the rest of your team?"

Her gaze drifted to the floor. "It's just me."

"They sent one person?"

She shook her head. "No time to explain."

"Fine. I keep the gun, I come with you. If it'll make you feel better, I’ll put it inside my waistband. I’ll only draw it should the need arise."

MacIntosh did as he said. The pistol was now out of his hand, in the small of his back. Hatch got closer and saw that all of Deputy U.S. Marshal Calvin Lawson's wounds had been dressed, and better yet, he was alive. Though it looked like time was not on his side.

"That's your handiwork?"

"Yes ma'am. I've got him strapped to that board. Should hold. It's all I can do with what we’ve got."

"What are the straps for?"

"This." MacIntosh grabbed the straps and slowly hoisted Lawson up so that they were now back-to-back with the board in between them. "I've got him if you want to drive. I've got an ATV on the backside of the cafeteria. I was planning on making a run for it when you came in. Had to make this rig so I can get him out of here."

"You’re here because of him?"

"No. My reason for being here is unrelated, but I’m not gonna let these savages kill an innocent man."

"Well, let's make sure he gets off this mountain alive." Hatch led the way.

MacIntosh was close behind. As Hatch came to the partition and prepared to step through, she heard the bang on the front door and spun to see the mismatched face of Frank Winslow. He was already firing when she turned.

She dove to the floor as four or five poorly placed shots peppered the lightweight partition. Hatch didn’t hear the shattering of the meth lab vials. She didn’t hear the explosion because in the moment that his last bullet passed by her head, she had fired three precision shots. Two in his chest and one dead center between his eyes. Winslow never fired another shot. He couldn’t. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Hatch stood and turned to see MacIntosh with the revolver in his hand. He was facing her. She realized a split second too late why. A painter's drop cloth wrapped her up like a burrito as the enormous arms of The Way's leader plowed through from the burning kitchen. Hatch was pinned at the arms. The gun was now trapped beneath the thick canvas tarp, and she couldn't press it out enough to fire with any specificity as to where her round would land.

She threw back her head. The first blow connected with the top of the giant's forehead. He loosened his grip but didn’t release her. In fact, he squeezed harder. Hatch struggled for air as she fought for her life. She continued to use the only weapon at her disposal. Her head. And she swung it like a blacksmith's hammer. This time, she connected with the bridge of his nose. Feeling his bone snap against the back of her head had the desired effect. His grip loosened enough that Hatch was able to then force her body free as she hit the ground, separating herself from the beast of a man.

She hadn’t had time to clear the gun from the canvas still wrapped around it before he was back down on top of her. A massive fist the size of a boulder was rocketing toward her face when MacIntosh’s first shot rang out. Two more followed. Grizz twisted violently to the right and then fell over onto his side.

Grizz was the recipient of two of the three rounds fired and had been thrown off course by the impact of the bullets. He twisted and fell backwards. He rolled once and then stopped. He was face down on a floor already stained and re-stained with Lawson’s blood over the past twenty-four hours. Now Grizz’s added to the mix.

Hatch freed her weapon and scrambled to her feet. There was no movement. The behemoth was down. If not permanently, at least for the moment.

Hatch closed in to verify. When she was two feet away, the kitchen exploded and sent a wall of fire across the room, singeing Hatch's hand and separating her from Grizz. The fire obliterated her view of the murderous gang leader.

Worse, it cut off her exit to the front door.

The fire had already jumped to the ceiling on the right side and was whipping its way around like a horse on a racetrack. The only exit was the side entrance she’d used earlier. MacIntosh waited with Lawson still strapped to his back as the fire closed in. He beckoned Hatch to hurry.

Hatch sprinted at full speed, taking each painful step with her damaged ankle in stride as the three of them burst through the now fully engulfed cafeteria door and onto the glacier outside.