On The Border

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

      Reid fired off a few shots and then ducked back around the corner as bullets sprayed everywhere around him. He ejected the magazine from the assault rifle he'd taken back at the apartment building (that seemed so long ago now) and saw he had about six shots left. He and Hunter had expected trouble, and brought extra ammunition for their pistols, but had left heavier weapons at home to avoid attracting attention. The irony was not lost on Reid. Hunter crouched low to the ground, and fired off a blast from the shotgun. The range was far for accurate shooting, but he saw one of the car tires suddenly blow out as he rolled back to cover, more enemy shots chipping the wall and pavement around him. They were in a bad spot, and it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed by numbers or someone got smart and ended up on the roof above them. Hunter looked up again, surveying the higher ground, but didn't see anyone up there. The pipe they had climbed down had been loosened in the process, and he didn't trust it fully to get them back up there. That, and if they slackened off fire to try it, they would probably get rushed by the enemy. So many options, and all of them sucked, Hunter thought to himself.

      Out in the street, Verde beckoned Gonzalez over with a motion of his hand. "Cristobol, show him what you showed me." Verde tuned out the rambling explanation about Crisobol's cousin and the broken leg, watching the rest of his men closing in on the alley. Hopefully, they would finish these two fools off soon. He frowned as one of his men cried out and spun, clutching at his shoulder and falling to the ground. They were fools, perhaps, but talented fools.

      When Cristobol finished, Verde said, "Find this man and stop him. We do not need the attention." Gonzalez looked offended at Verde's tone, and Verde smirked. "Go. Earn your money." Gonzalez glared, but left.

      Cronkite had not only attracted followers online, his current report was drawing a crowd to his position. Several of them were standing close to him now, and one was operating his camera for him. Gonzalez shouldered through the small group, snarling at Cronkite. "Turn that camera off, and I'll need all the copies of your video."

       I'm sorry, that's not possible, sergeant," Cronkite answered.

      Gonzalez' voice was low and menacing. "I can persuade you to make it 'possible,'" he said.

      "Oh, I think you misunderstand, sergeant," Cronkite said with a guileless look on his face. "I can give you as many copies as you need for your... investigation," he put some odd emphasis on that last word and Gonzalez flushed a bit, "but this has been going out live, and spread to all manner of servers and mirror sites. So even if I wanted to, I couldn't give you every copy. Although I'm not sure why you'd need every copy...?" he let his voice trail off. Gonzalez growled and stalked off, and then was even less happy on seeing a local news crew setting up as well.

      Back in the alley, Hunter pulled back again after emptying the shotgun, propping it on the alley wall next to him. Reid leaned out above him, aimed carefully, and squeezed off a shot with his pistol. One of the sicarios dropped with a cry of pain. Hunter pulled his own pistol, then paused as his cell phone rang. Since he wasn't at a point where he felt like he could ignore any possible help, he answered.

      "This is Officer Amaya, is this... umm... the Ranger's friend?"

      Hunter rolled his eyes. He was fine with not attracting attention and all, but this was getting ridiculous. "Yeah, kinda busy here."

      "I know, I've seen part of it. Let me make a suggestion..." she outlined her plan quickly, and Hunter felt a faint hope stirring, gave her one piece of information, and changed his parameters for what they needed to do.