The Long Drive Into The Wilderness

Welcome back, gentle reader.

This is a story I've had percolating for some time. In my profile I say I don't write about secret agents or special forces; this might be the closest I come, with a protagonist in that vein, but not superhuman by any means. Also, because I have little knowledge of the nuts and bolts of law enforcement or the criminal underworld, I have no doubt I've made some errors in my depiction. Google research only gets you so far. Either way, I hope you'll enjoy the crux of the tale.

Note: this story does contain stark violence and situations involving sexual assault and abuse. This also isn't one of my more erotic stories. There is some sexy time here but it's more of a natural action of the characters, and not the real focus.

Thanks to my special friends who gave this a test read (you know who you are!). As always, I apologize for my poor copy-editing skills and welcome all feedback, whether good, bad, or indifferent.

#

WHAM!

Dale's reaction was instant and reflexive. He rolled to the side and yanked the semi-automatic pistol from the holster on the nightstand. His body tensed. Breath caught in his throat. Weapon leveled at the door, he waited for the next blow.

The second slam was just as loud but he realized immediately it wasn't his door, but one or two down. Dale slumped. Still palming the gun, he pressed the slide against his forehead and closed his eyes.

Jesus. Almost ... I almost came up firing. That would have been ... bad.

He shook his head. Yuri had always said Dale had a fine gift for understatement.

He glanced at the clock, seeing it was two-thirty, just as a third crash came from outside. Now that he was fully awake and not reacting, Dale's ears automatically assessed the sound: it had come from the left, and probably from the next room. The angle of his own room door meant that if he wanted to investigate, he could open and see the noisemaker with minimal exposure to himself.

Get out of that thinking, man. You're not that guy anymore.

Another blow reverberated through the night, though this time it was followed by a hoarse shout. "Maggie! I know you're in there. Open this goddamn door! Maggie!"

Silence greeted this request. The speaker struck the door again. "Don't make me break this down, bitch. Do you know what I am going to do to you?"

Dale tensed. Between the accent and the inflection, the sinking feeling that he knew that voice made his mouth dry and his finger tremble.

A faint feminine scream drifted through the walls. "Go away!"

"Maggie!"

WHUMP!

"You fucking bitch!"

Another voice shouted from somewhere in the distance and the speaker at the door responded. "

You

shut the fuck up! Fuck you!" The, in a lower tone: "Pavel, go fuck him up."

Pavel. That seals it.

Dale sat frozen in the bed.

It's not your problem, Dale. Just sit still. Don't ... just don't ...

Another slam. The speaker's voice dropped, though it was still audible. "Maaaaggie. Open the door, Maggie. We can work this out. I promise, I won't hurt you."

"No, leave me alone!" The woman's voice reverberated with terror and panic.

WHAM!

"Open this fucking door!" The outside voice resumed its prior volume.

Dale clenched his eyes shut.

Don't do it, man. Stay quiet. Stay hidden.

There was another distant shout, followed by the sound Dale knew all too well: that of a pistol discharging. He heard a pained shout, another shot, and then nothing save the commotion next door. His gut contracted.

No, I just ... fuck me.

In a flash, he was on his feet and at the door.

When he looked back later, Dale figured that if he had sat still just a half-second longer, his self-preservation would have kicked in, overriding his need to fling open the motel door, step to the door jamb, and raise his own weapon. As it was, he did just that.

As suspected, the source of the noise was just one door down from his. The man was short and wiry, and looked to be in his late twenties, with close-cropped blond hair. As soon as Dale flung open the door, the man looked his way. Cruel blue eyes locked with his.

The man did a double-take. "Sergei?"

"Step away from the door, Vasily."

A greasy smile crossed Vasily's face. "Well, fuck me sideways.

Predatel

right here in front of me. What are the fuckin' odds, eh?"

"I'm not gonna tell you again, Vasily. Get lost. Cops are already on their way."

"You always were a bad liar, Sergei." Vasily's hands drifted to the pistol thrust in his belt. His bloodshot eyes fixed on Dale, who recognized the manic, glazed look. Vasily was high as a kite, which meant Dale's chances of talking him down had just gone to near-zero.

"But a good shot." Dale's heart thumped in his chest. "I don't want to kill you,

"But I want to kill you. Fucking rat."

"Vasily--"

"

Cyka blyat!

" He clawed for his pistol.

Dale pulled the trigger.

Eight grams of lead, moving at eleven hundred feet per second, exited the barrel of his pistol, hurled across the intervening space, and punched a fresh hole in Vasily's forehead. The man stared at Dale for a long second, as if stupefied at what had happened, before collapsing to the ground.

Dale stared at him, his stomach contracting.

Shit. Just ... shit.

A flicker of movement to his right drew his attention. A heavyset man in a suit appeared from behind the end of the Dale's rented SUV, a gun in his hand. "Vasily, I--" His eyes fell on Dale and widened. "You!"

Dale didn't even think. He swung his arm wide and fired. His bullet clipped the new arrival in the shoulder. The man shouted and fired back. Mortar and shards of brick popped twelve inches from Dale's head. He turned his shoulders into a classic isosceles stance and fired twice more. Both rounds slammed into his foe's chest, who fell with a cry.

An inner voice screamed in his ear.

Move, Dale, you are out of time.

He hadn't unpacked, because he didn't have anything to unpack. Dale grabbed his pants and shirt and dressed as fast as he could, while keeping his ears peeled. Every second without sirens upped his chance of escape. He kept one eye on the door but didn't expect anyone. Vasily only ever traveled with Pavel, and that was only because Dmitri ordered Pavel to do so.

Dale snorted at that. No one could take being in Vasily's presence for more than fifteen minutes without being paid to do so.

He slid into his boots, not bothering to lace them. He scooped his wallet and car keys off the bedside table, grabbed his go bag, and hurried to the door, pausing only long enough to make sure the parking lot was clear. He didn't spot anything but Dale was sure someone in the hotel was watching through drawn curtains or that security cameras would pick up his face, or both.

First thing after I get clear is to ditch this vehicle.

He groaned at the thought. Rented under an assumed name, which meant all the documents with that name were compromised, along with the credit cards, which meant his fiscal trail would be easy to track ...

Move!

Pistol held low in both hands, Dale darted to the driver's side. He swiveled his head but saw nothing, so hit the fob. The car chirped; he slid in the driver's seat, tossed his bag in the back, and pulled the door shut. A quick push of a button started it.

The door next to his room opened and a small face peeked out. She didn't even glance at Vasily's frozen expression of surprise nor the blooding pool beneath his corpse. Her eyes settled on Dale and she lunged out of the room, carrying a small bag, and ran to the passenger side of the SUV. She tried the door handle, which was locked, and stared at Dale with pleading eyes.

At first glance, Dale would have assumed the girl was in her late teens but the mature cut of her face told him that was merely very petite. He guessed she stood no more than five feet tall and weighed a hundred pounds sopping wet. She wore a plain blue cotton tee shirt and jeans. The pigtails of her blonde hair hung in twin ropes at her shoulders and big brown eyes continued to stare at him.

Dale shook his head and put the car in gear.

The girl hammered her first on the window. Her muffled voice carried through the window. "Please!"

Dale closed his eyes.

Goddamn fucking Galahad on his white horse, charging in to save the girl. Well, I already fucked myself. Can't leave her now.

He popped the locks.

The woman threw open the door, shoved her bag over the seat and into the back, and climbed in. Through the open door, Dale heard the faintest howl of sirens in the distance, which meant he had seconds.

She slammed the door shut and turned her head toward him--and froze on spying the barrel of the gun pointed her way. Her eyes grew wide as dinner plates.

"Buckle up and roll over in the seat so your back is to me. Don't so much as turn your head my way or I'll blow it off. Do you understand?"

She hurried to obey and flopped to her right, facing the window. He figured that if she wanted to make a hostile move or pull a weapon, having to turn over to face him would buy him an extra half-second to react.

Dale threw the SUV into reverse and peeled out of the parking space. When he turned onto the road, he made another immediate turn, and then another, putting himself several streets over from the motel. He glanced at his passenger but she remained facing away from him. In the flash of street lights, he thought he caught her shaking but whether from fear, anger, or tears, he couldn't tell.

Can't worry about it right this second.

His eyes raked the streets for threats. Dandridge, Tennessee was not a thriving metropolis by any stretch of the imagination, but it was big enough that if he hurried, he should be able to get clear. If the cops responding to the motel were on the ball, he'd have about fifteen minutes before both his and the vehicle's description were all over the city. That would be just enough time, other than ...

He wheeled into an alley between two office buildings, then killed the ignition and the lights. The SUV plunged into darkness. Dale extended his pistol until it poked the woman between the shoulder blades. She flinched but said nothing. "Out."

She unbuckled and opened the door without looking back. Dale did the same and hurried around the vehicle. He grabbed her wrists and shoved her against the wall. The woman gasped but didn't resist. He placed her palms flat on the wall, over her head. "Don't move."

He patted her down, looking for anything concealed she might use as a weapon. When he felt under her breasts, she tensed--and then again when he groped between her legs. Finding nothing, he opened the back door and extracted her bag. A second quick search revealed some clothes, a flip phone, some toiletries, a small photo album ... a can of pepper spray. Dale pocketed that and tucked his pistol in his waistband, where the tail of shirt covered it. "Turn around."

She did. The look on her face said she was nervous but resigned to whatever happened.

Dale took a deep breath and offered her the bag, which she took. "Go on, get out of here."

She blinked. "What?"

"You don't want to be with me if the cops catch up."

"Wait, are you leaving me here?" Her voice was soft and throaty. "I ... I thought--"

"What?"

"Can't I come with you?"

Dale glowered. "No."

"Please." She lunged forward. Dale took a step back into a fighting stance, half-turned with his weight on his back foot ... but she only grabbed his left hand. "Please, I have nowhere to go. I'm sure Vasily told them where I was and they'll come looking for me. Just help me get away and you can turn me loose."

Dale stared at her. The sinking realization that this girl had seen him shoot Vasily took hold.

If they find her, they'll make her talk. Dmitri already wants me dead. If he learns I killed his youngest son ...

"I don't have any money but ..." Tears trickled down her cheeks. The woman closed her eyes and lowered her head. "You can fuck me if you want. Just please don't leave me."

Nausea twisted his gut. The hamburger he'd eaten a few hours earlier boiled into the back of his throat and only with some effort was he able to push it down. He ripped his hand from the woman's grip. "We have to move fast, so you better keep up."

Her head snapped up and he saw hope spring from the depths of her brown eyes. She nodded vigorously. "I will."

Dale held his hand out. "Phone has to go."

"Okay." She fished in the bag. "I only took it because I thought it couldn't be tracked, you know, like a smartphone."

"If it's on the cellular network, it can be pinged and triangulated."

She handed him the flip phone--then squeaked in surprise as he hurled it against the concrete wall of the nearest building. Shards of plastic and circuit boards sprayed in every direction.

"There, the last place they'll find it is here, which is no big deal, since the car is here. Come on." Dale grabbed his own satchel from the car, trotted to the end of the alley and glanced out. He still heard sirens in the distance but nothing coming any closer.

The woman stopped right behind him--so close he could feel the heat from her body in the cool November air. She said, "I'm Maggie."

He recalled Vasily's shouts at the motel. "Yeah, I gathered."

"What can I call you?"

He chuckled. "Sergei will do."

#

It took Dale five minutes to find a suitable car to steal. He hated to do it, but with luck, he'd be able to leave it unharmed in Knoxville and it would get back to its owner. As it was, he had to get clear of Dandridge as fast as possible. The good news was that in a small, backwoods town, old cars were common.

For her part, Maggie followed him in silence. Dale was pleasantly surprised that she mirrored his actions without question, moving when Dale moved and stopping the instant he did. She didn't even ask when he produced a thin lockout tool and jammed in between the car's driver-side window and the rubber door seal. He fiddled with it for a second before the telltale

thunk

told him he'd popped the lock. He glanced around before opening the door and hitting the button to open the rest of the doors. "Get in."

Maggie scurried around the car to obey.

Dale shut the door, produced a screwdriver, and popped a panel from the steering column. A few moments and clipped wires later, the engine roared to life and he pulled out, taking care to drive as inconspicuously as possible.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder at the still-empty street. "Not quite

Gone in Sixty Seconds

, but close."

"Yeah, I've done this a few times."

"Why this car?"

He side-eyed her. "Why does it matter?"

"Sorry, just making conversation." She folded her hands in her lap and stared out the front window. Her face was unreadable.

Dale reached the on-ramp for I-40 and took the interstate heading west, toward Knoxville, planning to ditch the car there and rent a new one. He frowned at that; he'd only left Virginia with two sets of ID and credit cards, and one was already compromised. He knew it might happen eventually but wasn't expecting it literally on the first day.

Of all the goddamn luck, having Vasily show up at the same hotel. What are the odds? What are the fucking odds?

He glanced at Maggie, who was just a silhouette in the dark. "How did you end up in that motel?"

"I ran from Vasily when his back was turned and checked into the motel. I used my actual driver's license but I guess it didn't matter. There's only one motel by the interstate with vacancies so it didn't take him long to find me."

"You were driving through?"

She licked her lips. "He and Pavel came down on business, they said. I didn't understand what possible business they'd have in such a small town but he insisted I come with him to, uh ..." She flushed. "To keep him company."

Dale nodded.

"I didn't want to leave New York but ... well, you knew Vasily, right?"

"Yeah."

"So you knew how he could be. I couldn't say no."

Not without getting your lip split, and that was if you were lucky.

"Do you know what kind of business he was here for?"

"I don't know. He and Pavel were supposed to be meeting some other people here. I overheard him say something about catching a traitor at a friend's house."

Ice formed in Dale's veins. He didn't even realize he'd started drifting off the road until he hit the rumble strip on the shoulder. He corrected and fought to control his breathing.

Friend of a traitor. Yuri read my mind, he knew exactly where I was going. That means ... shit. Colin!

"Was it you?"

Startled from his internal panic, Dale glanced at Maggie. "What?"

"Was it you?" She didn't look at him but continued to face forward. "Were you the traitor they were looking for? I could tell Vasily knew you."

He saw little point in hiding it. "Probably." He spotted an upcoming exit with a service station. "I need to make a call."

Dale pulled into the parking lot, undid the clip holding the engine and ignition wires, and said, "Come on." When she didn't move, he glared at her. "You're not going to drive off and leave me here. Move."

Once they were out, he took hold of her arm and guided her to the door. He was surprised at not only the softness of her skin but the firm tone of her muscle. Dale gave Maggie a more appraising glance as they walked. Despite being petite, she had a mature, athletic build, with small breasts, lithe but firm-looking hips, and a narrow waist. At first glance, she could pass for twenty. Only a close inspection of the faint lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth gave any indication of her true age.

Vasily always did like them young.

The attendant posted at the register looked up from his magazine as Dale and Maggie entered. Dale noted one hand drift under the counter--

for a weapon, no doubt. Who knows how many times he's been robbed.

"Evening, folks. Or, morning, I should say. Help y'all with something?"

"I don't suppose you have a payphone, do you?"

"Naw, the phone company took them all out years ago." The man pointed down a narrow hallway. "But there's a phone in the employee lounge you can use, so long as you buy something."

"Fine. We'll take four of those sandwiches from the cooler, two big bags of chips, and some bottles of water. Don't care which, just mix up a variety." He looked at Maggie. "You want anything else?"

She hesitated. "Uh, can I have an iced tea?"

"And that. Ring it up for us, we'll be right back."

"No problem, I'll have it all bagged up for you." Dale wondered if the guy would make an issue of the way he steered Maggie down the hallway by the arm but the attendant paid them no further mind and moseyed from behind the counter to collect the requested items. Dale figured the guy had seen a lot on that late shift and decided it best to not get involved with his customers' personal problems.

Dale thought back to the motel and wished he'd had the same idea.

They found the tiny room with a table, two chairs, a counter and sink, a small refrigerator, and an old battered phone. Dale released Maggie and pointed at the chairs. She sat. He hefted the handset and punched the familiar buttons. The line rang several times before an answering machine answered. "Hey, this is Colin, I can't come to the phone but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you."

Colin, you never upgraded to voice mail.

Dale waited for the beep. "Colin, it's me. Something happened, you need to get out of there and--"

A click sounded and a terribly familiar voice came on the line. "Hello, Sergei."

Dale took a deep breath. "Yuri."

"My father was right. He knew exactly where you'd run."

"Where's Colin? Let me talk to him."