“Showtime,” I said, a predatory grin of my own appearing on my face. My body was almost tingling as the calm washed over me, and I felt very still inside. It felt good to be back in the game.
“What if it’s the wrong truck?” Austin asked, sounding nervous.
“That’s why I didn’t give you a weapon. You don’t need that on your hands. Quiet now…it’s almost time. When I open up, you plug your ears. No matter what happens, you stay here and keep quiet, understood?”
“Yeah.” Our guests didn’t keep us waiting.
A large gray semi truck, seeing the blocked bridge, rumbled to a stop just to our right, to where I could see the back doors of the trailer. The front end of the truck was already on the bridge, and there’d be no way it could turn around without backing up. Since it was stopped, it’d have a hard time crashing through our blockade. In any case, Ling was going to deal with the driver.
Following the truck was a black Chevy Tahoe with Iowa plates. It indeed had four men in it, and it pulled into the left-hand lane and came to a stop next to the truck. I couldn’t see it from where I was, but I saw Ling move from in front of the van towards the driver’s side door of the semi truck. That was my signal.
I looked over at Austin, roughly patted him on the shoulder, and scrambled to my feet. I dashed across the road and stopped behind the truck’s trailer. I waited for an eternal second; the amplified hearing my muffs provided me with allowed me to hear the semi driver yelling at Ling. A moment later, the quiet afternoon air was shattered by a single gunshot; peeking around the truck, I saw that Ling had produced a CZ-75B 9mm pistol and shot the truck driver in the face.
Everything moved in slow motion then. I stepped from behind the truck, bringing my FAL up in my left shoulder as I did so. As the muzzle came on target, and the amber chevron hovered over the Tahoe, I swiped the safety off with my trigger finger and opened fire.