novelraw Chapter 343: That’s A Trap
Chapter 343: That’s A Trap
Zubair drove hard through the narrow service lane that cut between two collapsed sheds, steering the Hummer where the pavement had long since given up.
Elias had spotted it first—an old maintenance road that still showed faint tire marks under the dust—and Zubair had taken the turn without a word.
The truck’s frame scraped against the edge of a splintered pallet stack.
The sound cracked like dry wood in a fire, and the mast of an overturned forklift grazed the mirror, folding it inward.
He didn’t slow down at all.
The ruts ahead were deep, sun-baked, and uneven, cutting through a low stretch of farmland where the soil had turned the color of rust.
The rifles mounted on the warehouse roof couldn’t pivot fast enough to follow their angle, and the flatbed in the front lot was too large to make the same turn. They had seconds before the Saints regrouped, and Zubair was going to need all of them.
The Hummer hit the dirt road at sixty mph, its suspension shaking under the weight.
Dust streamed behind them in a heavy plume that hung low in the air, obscuring them from view for a second.
Zubair could feel the heat through the steering column, the hum of the engine vibrating through his arms. Every breath tasted like grit. He didn’t mind it; clean air made him uneasy now.
"They’re still behind us," Elias noted, his voice calm but deliberate.
Zubair glanced in the review mirror.
Two motorcycles were still up on the main highway, black shapes against the horizon.
They’d tried to follow through the ruts but couldn’t keep balance at that speed. Their front forks kicked and danced through the dust, tires chewing at the hard ground until they gave up a little ground.
"They’ll pass the word forward," Elias continued, more to the air than to anyone.
"Good," Sera replied quietly. Her tone wasn’t defiant—just interested.
Lachlan turned his head from the left window. "Good?"
"I want to see what’s next," she told him, and the corner of her mouth twitched like she meant it.
Zubair didn’t answer.
He liked the insight into how her mind worked, even if he didn’t always understand it.
The creature under his skin stirred faintly at her voice, reacting to tone, to command, to something older than words. He pushed it down until the feeling faded.
The road curved south, sloping toward a shallow depression where dried mud had once been a drainage field.
Ahead, the ground rose again into a ridge crowned with an old church, its paint burned away by heat and time. The bell lay in the grass, split clean down one side. A dozen boot prints crossed the incline in different directions—fresh, heavy, organized.
"Contact points," Alexei warned, leaning closer to the glass. "They’ve had traffic here recently."
Zubair adjusted his grip and kept moving.
The Hummer dipped through the basin, suspension flexing as the ground shifted under them. The dust here was deep, pale as bone, coating everything in a fine powder that stuck to the windows and made the light outside go flat.
Static broke across the vehicle radio, sharp enough to make Lachlan flinch. Zubair turned the dial until a voice cleared through the interference—rough, local, human.
"—black SUV, no plates, eastbound on Miller Cut. All units block grid east."
The message cut halfway through. A second voice came through the channel, slower, deliberate, the kind of tone that expected obedience.
"Don’t pop the cages yet. Net them first."
Zubair’s knuckles flexed against the wheel. He didn’t know the name, but he knew the type of man it belonged to.
Ahead of them, the basin leveled out, and the creature inside him pulsed once in approval, feeding on the tension. He exhaled slow, grounding himself in the weight of the steering column, in the motion of control.
At the top of the ridge, something unnatural interrupted the view—three thick ropes stretched between the stone fence posts that lined the road.
Hooks hung from them every two feet, dull with rust but sharp enough to catch sunlight.
Elias leaned forward to get a better look. "That’s a trap. They’ll lift those with a winch when we’re close."
"Where’s the winch rig?" Alexei asked, turning his head up so that he was looking out of the window in all directions.
Zubair spotted it first.
A white van sat at an angle in the ditch to the right, hood up. Cables ran from its front bumper across the road to the opposite fence.
A small generator coughed beside it, chugging through fuel. In the open side door, a boy sat with a headset crooked on his neck and his hand resting on a lever.
"Brake or ram?" Lachlan asked quickly.
"Neither," Zubair replied.
He shifted down and accelerated.
The boy looked up at the sound of the engine and pulled the lever hard. The ropes jumped to life. The upper line snapped tight, lifting fast. The middle line stuttered, catching on a knot. The lower line lurched a beat late, heavy with dirt.
Zubair steered straight through the center, then veered right.
The hooks scraped across the hood and screamed along the roof rack. One caught the antenna and tore it free. Another bit into the door before sliding loose.
The bottom cable struck the tire, bounced off, and whipped back toward the van. The Hummer tore through, ripping two fence posts from the ground.
The boy fell backward out of the door and hit the dirt. He scrambled up, unarmed, eyes wide. His hands lifted as if that might stop momentum. It didn’t. They were already gone.
Elias leaned forward. "We lost the radio antenna."
Lachlan tapped the base with a knuckle. "We’ll still pick up short range."
Zubair didn’t look back. The boy was already on his knees again, talking into his headset, his mouth moving fast.
They’d have company soon.
"There’s a block ahead," Alexei warned from the back.
Zubair saw it: a dump truck parked across the road, its bed raised halfway.
Two men stood on top with coils of chain, and another man waited at street level with a handheld detonator.
He wore a Saint’s vest and no helmet, his head shaved, the skull tattoo across his jaw visible even through the glare.
"Spikes in front of the truck," Elias noted. "Flares set between the cracks."
"Detonator’s for what?" Lachlan asked. "Fire? Cages?"