Sound of Survival (Book 2): Fight or Flight Read online

  Fight or Flight

  Sound of Survival Book 2

  Sean Patten

  Contents

  Fight or Flight

  1. Ed

  2. Amy

  3. Amy

  4. Ed

  5. Ed

  6. Amy

  7. Ed

  8. Ed

  9. Amy

  10. Ed

  11. Ed

  12. Ed

  13. Ed

  14. Ed

  15. Ed

  16. Amy

  17. Amy

  18. Ed

  19. Amy

  20. Amy

  21. Ed

  22. Ed

  23. Amy

  24. Amy

  Home Free

  1. Amy

  Also by Sean Patten

  Fight or Flight

  Copyright 2019 by Sean Patten

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  1 Ed

  May 9 2020; 06:00 Pacific Time

  The rising sun cast the desert in a strange, unearthly glow. Beams of light broke through the spaces between rocks, shooting like lasers over the convoy of worn-down, late-model pickup trucks that clambered down the main road, their thick-treaded tires kicking sand and dust up into the air. Among the trucks, weaving in and out of the formation like buzzing bees, were even more motorcycles and dirt bikes.

  I turned to Amy, who was still staring at the scene wide-eyed, her body frozen in place.

  “Get down!” I hissed.

  But she remained frozen, her blue eyes fixed onto the convoy.

  I let out a frustrated sigh, realizing that Amy was all but telegraphing her inexperience with matters like this. Freezing in place like an elk in front of the high beams of an eighteen-wheeler was how sheltered people like her responded to shock.

  I reached over and grabbed her by her skinny wrist. She really was a slip of a thing, and not likely to be much good in a fight. The best I could do was hope our little partnership, or whatever the hell this was, wouldn’t come to that.

  With a yank, I pulled Amy away from where her feet were planted and behind a nearby rock. Relief hit me once we were behind cover, and I took a quick scan of the scene to see what our options were.

  “What’s going on?” Amy asked.

  Of course that’s what she’d ask. First, she’d stay frozen in place. Then, once safe, she’d ask questions to which I clearly didn’t have answers. God forbid she’d actually be helpful.

  No sense in worrying about that, I reminded myself. I could’ve left her behind, but I didn’t. I knew deep down what I was getting into when I let her tag along. Not to mention I owed the girl for saving my life.

  “I’m not exactly sure yet,” I said. “Just stay out of sight. You don’t want any of these guys spotting you, believe me.”

  “What guys?” she asked. “Who are they?”

  More questions.

  “Just stay still and shut up and I’ll tell you what you need to know!”

  My voice came out in a sharp hiss, and the widening of her eyes and the immediate forming of her mouth into a hard, flat line made it clear that she’d gotten the hint that I wasn’t fucking around. But she did as I asked, forming her body into a little ball and staying behind the rock.

  Good girl, I thought to myself. Just do what I say and I might be able to keep you alive.

  After taking one last slow breath to calm my nerves, I slowly, slowly, stuck my head out from behind the rock and sized things up.

  There were pick-up trucks—I counted a dozen of them, men packed into the front seats and in the back cabs. The growl of the many engines filled the early morning air as the cars pulled up to the main west entrance of the Dead Air festival grounds. One truck, a blood red nineties-model pick-up at the front of the pack, came to a stop. The other cars did the same, forming up behind him, more dust kicking up as they all came to a halt, one by one.

  I narrowed my eyes as if I had binocular powers as I focused on the main truck. All the cars looked like they’d seen better days—the men had obviously figured out that their flashier rides were unusable—but the truck at the head of the pack was a little nicer than the rest, less rust, no scratches on the body.

  It was the truck of the man in charge.

  Silence returned to the desert as the trucks stayed still, my eyes focused on the truck at the head. Finally, after several long moments, the passenger-side door opened and an oil-black boot attached to a denim-clad leg stepped out from the darkness. One boot hit the ground, then the other, a towering form following behind them.

  The man who stepped out was tall, and built as solidly as the truck he’d just exited. He was dressed in heavy combat boots, dark blue jeans, and a denim-vest covered in patches, no shirt on underneath. His burly arms, chest, and neck were covered in tattoos, a long, braided black beard hung from his chin down to his barrel chest, a wild mane of hair flowed from his head like a waterfall of India ink. His eyes were hidden behind dark shades.

  There he was, the man himself. Dante Arco, the head honcho of the Black Mountain Mob.

  And he looked pissed. Hell, even from dozens and dozens of feet away I could feel the anger boiling off his body like steam. The other men who stepped out of the other trucks and formed up behind him seemed tense, and I got the sense the men knew better than to pipe up in front of Dante when he was mad. From the stories I’d heard about the guy, that was probably the smart thing to do.

  “Who is that?”

  A sharp voice cut through the silence. I whipped around to see that Amy had poked her head out from behind the rocks and was watching the events unfold. Once again I lunged towards her and grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the sight lines of the men ahead.

  “What the hell?” she said.

  “Stay put!” I growled. “They’re gonna spot that blond hair of yours as sure as if you’re turning on a fucking flashlight!”

  She shot me a hard look, but obeyed my command. A tinge of sickness ran through me at the idea of the men spotting me and Amy hiding and watching. I could only imagine what men like those in the Black Mountain crew would do to a girl like her once it sank in that no one was coming to restore order.

  Once she was hiding again, I turned my attention to the scene ahead. Dante slowly paced in front across the road, as if he was waiting for someone. Or figuring out just how he wanted to handle what was going on. Cars and pedestrians had been slowly trickling through the exit, but now that the road was blocked people began to clog up the road, many of them peeling away, likely trying to find some other avenue out of the mess of the festival.

  “Someone needs to tell me what’s going on!” barked Dante, his booming voice carrying over the desert winds. “Right fucking now!”

  I found myself wondering what he knew, wondering if he had any word on what was going on back in civilization—if it could even be called that at this point. The fact that no cops had shown up was making it pretty clear that the problem stretched out far beyond the borders of the Dead Air grounds.

  No time to worry about that. The fact that one of—if not the—largest criminal organizations in the western United States had shown up was a far more pressing conc
ern. And judging by the death-dealing gear they’d brought with them, they hadn’t come to fuck around.

  Through the teeming masses still on the concert grounds, a trio of golf carts arrived—still functioning, I could only assume, thanks to their basic, gas-powered engines. Each one was driven by a member of the security team, still wearing their Dead Air T-shirts.

  “Fuck,” I said under my breath. “They’re in on this bullshit too?”

  The golf carts came to halts, the tiny vehicles looking small and insignificant in front of the fleet of trucks and motorcycles. After a few tense moments, the men climbed out of the carts and slowly made their way towards Dante, who stood with his hands on his hips. His back to me, I could make out the silver gleam of a pistol tucked into his pants.

  Dante stood before the three men, as imposing a tank. No one said anything at first, and I could almost taste the fear of the security guards.

  “The fuck’s going on here?”

  Dante’s voice carried all the way to where Amy and I were hiding. The guard’s, on the other hand, not so much.

  “Whole thing’s a mess…power’s gone…going crazy…”

  The guard’s low, fearful tone barely carried, and I could only get the gist of what he was talking about. Dante stepped in close and said something that I couldn’t hear, then turned his back and continued talking.

  “Do you have any fucking idea how much money I’ve got tied up into this place?” he asked. “I trusted you all. Stupid me for thinking you could handle the responsibility.”

  My eyes went down to the gun, then to his hand. I had a feeling that whatever was happening, it was about to get really bad, and fast.

  “…no electricity!” said the guard.

  I couldn’t hear all of his words, but I sure as shit could hear the fearful tone in his voice.

  “…not a thing we could do!” he said. “…hundred thousand people here…should’ve sent more men!”

  I winced at the stream of excuses coming out of this guy’s mouth. I was no criminal, but I’d dealt with enough lowlifes in my years to know that offering up accusations and excuses was about the stupidest thing you could do.

  Dante said nothing, instead continuing to stare at the men. Then, slowly, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, he stepped back to the crew he’d arrived with. He got in close to one of them and said something I couldn’t make out.

  But I didn’t need to hear the exact words. The man given the order waved his hands around, and moments later the engines of the motorcycles and motorbikes started up.

  “What’s going on?” asked Amy. “What’s happening?”

  I still wanted her to be quiet, but I couldn’t blame her for asking questions at this point.

  “Bad shit,” I whispered back, my words barely carrying over the buzz of the engines. “Shit that we don’t want to be here for.”

  Worry painted her features. She nodded and returned to hiding, and I turned my attention back to the scene ahead.

  The dirt bikes and motorcycles roared to life, peeling out from the convoy and heading down both sides of the perimeter of the festival grounds. There were a couple dozen of them, and on their bikes they were more than enough to make sure that they had the Dead Air borders secured.

  “Shit,” I said. “They’re making sure no one gets out of here.”

  No sooner had I uttered the words, Dante broke away from his man and stepped back towards the guards. With a fluid motion as he strode, he pulled the silver pistol out from his waist, pointed it at the guard he’d been speaking to, and fired.

  The guard didn’t even have a chance to raise his hands up and plead for his life. A faint red mist appeared behind his head for a split second before he dropped to his knees and then into a heap on the ground. Screams broke out from among the concertgoers who’d been near enough to witness the whole thing. The remaining two guards fled, melting back into the crowd.

  “All right, motherfuckers!” shouted Dante to his men as the tucked the pistol back into his pants. “I want this entire place secure in two hours! No fuck-ups, no excuses! And don’t you dare let a single person leave!”

  That meant us. It meant we needed to move.

  “Shit,” I said. “Come on!”

  I reached over and grabbed Amy’s hand, pulling her roughly to her feet. She let out a sharp shriek as she got up and I carried her along.

  “What was that noise?” she asked as we ran. “What happened?”

  “We need to hide,” I said. “Figure this shit out.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see that the relative calm that had settled as a result of Dante and the gang showing up was gone. The trucks and bikes drove in and around the festival grounds, engines roaring, concertgoers screaming, and dust filling the air and blocking nearly everything from sight.

  “Ed!” Amy shouted. “Please, tell me what’s going on! Who are those guys?”

  Poor kid was so out of her depth I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. But as much as I admitted she deserved some answers, that had to wait until we could get somewhere safe.

  “This way!” I shouted.

  “Wait,” she said right back once she realized where I was taking her. “We’re going back to the festival? Are you serious?”

  I didn’t have time to explain, time to tell her that the road leading out of there was about the most dangerous place we could be. We needed to get safe, and the festival grounds were the only place where we could do that.

  I ran hard, my arms and legs pumping and Amy following close behind. She wasn’t all that athletic, but she was fast, keeping up easily.

  It wasn’t too long before my heart began pounding hard, the muscles straining to push blood through my veins. A few minutes into the run I felt my first irregular heartbeat, and realized that it wouldn’t be long before the steady thump of my heart would slip again, putting me in a position that would only be fixed by my pills.

  Pills I didn’t have.

  But this wasn’t the time to be worrying about that. Up ahead, through one of the service entrances in the festival border, I spotted a warehouse, one of the ones that had been off-limits to low-level crew like me. It was unguarded now, and looked like a place where we could hide out.

  “There!” I said, pointing ahead. “Come on!”

  Side by side, the two of us passed through the service entrance and approached the warehouse. The growling of engines was still audible, but I didn’t turn to look. I just wanted to get someplace where we stood a good chance of not getting shot.

  Unlike the other warehouses, this one was locked up tight. The main front entrances were solid steel, and didn’t budge as I tried to open them with what little strength I had left.

  “Fuck!” I shouted, slamming my fist against the door.

  I backed up, realizing that Amy was gone. Panic gripped me as I looked around, squinting to try and see her through the dust.

  “Amy?” I yelled out.

  Seconds passed, and I worried that I’d somehow lost her in the confusion. But the sight of a blond head peeking around the side of the warehouse calmed me down.

  “Hey!” she said. “There’s a door over here!”

  She gestured for me to follow before disappearing around the corner. I followed, spotting her standing at a side door, a lock dangling from a latch. Gunshots crackled in the distance as I stepped next to her.

  “Holy shit,” Amy said. “Are they shooting?”

  I didn’t say anything, my eyes fixed on the door. I grabbed the knob and pulled it, the door opening but the locked latch keeping it shut.

  “We need something to break it,” I said.

  Amy nodded and stepped away, returning with a large, jagged rock.

  “This work?” she asked, handing it over.

  I took it and looked it over.

  “Hope so.”

  More gunshots and engine revs and screams sounded in the distance as I positioned the rock for a hit. I pulled it back and slammed it into the pa
dlock, the steel thing jangling in place with the impact, but not breaking.

  “Um, Ed?” said Amy. “I don’t want to freak you out, but there’s people coming.”

  I quickly glanced in the direction she was looking. Sure enough, three trucks and two motorcycles were on their way over, a dust cloud following close behind. And what was even worse was that one of the trucks was the red one that Dante had been riding in.

  Shit.

  I turned my attention back to the lock. I hit it with the rock again and again, finally breaking through the thick metal and sending the thing falling down into the sand. Heart thumping, I tossed the rock aside and pulled open the door.

  “Come on!”

  I barreled into the dark interior of the warehouse, Amy following close behind and pulling the door shut behind her. The cool air of the place hit me instantly—exactly what I needed after the run. But it was pitch dark in there, and my eyes were having a hard time adjusting.

  “What is this place?” asked Amy, her voice echoing in the vast interior.

  “A warehouse?” I said.

  “No shit,” Amy shot back. “But what did they keep in here?”

  “You’re asking the wrong guy,” I said.

  “Didn’t you work behind the scenes?” she asked.

  “I did. But I that doesn’t mean I got access to every place. This warehouse was one of the ones they didn’t let any of us into.”

  I rubbed my eyes, trying to hurry them into adjusting to the light.

  “Holy shit,” said Amy.

  Her eyes beat me to it. Through the darkness, I watched as she slowly stepped into the depths of the warehouse.

  “What is it?” I asked. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

  “Drugs,” she said, her voice soft. “Lots and lots of drugs.”

  Finally, my eyes got with the program. Through the dim light I could make out exactly what Amy had said. But “drugs” only covered the half of it.

  The place was packed full of tables, all of them covered in packages of white powder, scales, plastic wrapping, bins, rubber bands—everything you’d need to package drugs for distribution. And like the warehouse that had been storing kilos upon kilos of coke, it had all been happening right under our goddam noses.