Dodging Bullets: A Logan Dodge Novella by Matthew Rief

Author:Matthew Rief [Rief, Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Exotic Latitudes Press
Published: 2025-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

“Crap,” Taggert exclaimed as we regrouped on the logging road, both of us charging after the escaping SUV.

We sprinted to the top of the rise. Took aim shoulder to shoulder and released a barrage of gunfire. Bullets battered the rear windows and frame. We managed to punch it full of holes and blow one of its tires, but the vehicle continued away from us regardless.

“How in the hell is that thing still moving?” Taggert gasped as the Land Rover bounded to two hundred yards from us.

The mission was far from lost. The SUV was on its last legs. Barely bouncing along at twenty miles per hour. And I knew whoever was driving would have a near-impossible time with the switchbacks. They’d slow to a pitiful crawl, or they’d fly over the cliffs just like the first truck had. Either way, we’d have Zgambo.

I took aim at the vehicle’s left rear tire. Was going to empty my second magazine. If it still managed to press on, I’d spring back to our intact ride and go on the hunt and we’d be on Zgambo in under a minute.

I put the tire in my sights and partially flexed my trigger finger. Was about to unleash hell again when a thunderous single gunshot boomed across the air. The SUV swerved into a sudden skid and I caught sight of its windshield and spotted a new hole in the glass. In the blur of activity, I barely caught sight of new blood splatter across the driver’s seat and a body flailing about.

The Land Rover spun to a shaky stop with its tail facing us. Taggert and I held steady. Three hundred yards away. A tough shot, especially in the darkness and rain. But one we’d made countless times before.

The passenger door flew open. A man climbed out. It was Shadrick Zgambo. The leader of the trafficking operation looked frantic and flustered. Enraged. He held a pistol in his left hand and slid all over the place on the slick road as he struggled to move. But he wasn’t moving away from us. He was moving toward us. Panic on his face.

It was a drastic shift from all the pictures I’d seen of the criminal. Images of a hard mug. Intense eyes. Confidence and cruelty and thirst for power all there in his expressions.

That man was gone. The guy on the road far ahead was a terrified coward. A scared manchild who’d had his protection taken away and now his true colors were being revealed.

Taggert and I were both about to put him out of his misery, but we didn’t get a chance. Less than five seconds after he’d stepped out of the wrecked vehicle, a second thundering gunshot tore across the night air. Another single large-caliber round. It caught Zgambo in the upper back. Punched a golf-ball-sized hole out the base of his neck and struck with such force that it threw him face-first into the mud.

He was gone before he’d landed. Lay motionless in the middle of that remote logging road, rain continuing to fall.

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