Free Torsten Dahl book 1 - Stand Your Ground by David Leadbeater Page A

wondered again if this thing went beyond the Facilitator, to another far worse entity.
    Deal with what you could influence. Deal with the now.
    “We need a phone.” Dahl reasoned as they paused for a breather. “And somewhere safe to hide. A hotel, maybe, but even that could be risky. And a map of the area. What we have to understand is, we’re on our own for some time yet, even after I make a call to people who can help us. Certainly for the rest of the day, maybe all night too. But the key thing is to get hidden and somehow make that contact.”
    The girls nodded, wide-eyed, likely not comprehending most of it. Johanna looked around and hugged herself close, perhaps for the first time feeling her exposure and seeing a different side to their plight. Dahl was quite grateful for her realization. Anything to give her a better perspective of what they faced.
    “We can do this,” he said, using his own self-confidence to bolster hers. “Believe it.”
    “Easy to say,” she murmured.
    “I know because I’ve done it,” he said. “Many times, and much worse. Trust the soldier in me.”
    “I do,” Johanna said, and it was clear she meant it. It was every other part of him that she had a problem with. His military work only made his other side harder to deal with.
    The sound of a helicopter blasted overhead, quickly followed by its predatory shadow. Rotor wash churned down towards the streets and Dahl saw it: a black bird with silver markings, circling overhead.
    “Maybe that’s the news channel?” Johanna shielded her eyes, peering up. “Wouldn’t they be useful?”
    “Maybe,” Dahl said. “But let’s stay out of sight.”
    They flattened their bodies against the nearest wall, a flimsy sheet of corrugated steel, watching as the chopper drifted away. Dahl figured north to northeast would lead them to the center of Bridgetown, but he refused to kid himself into believing he knew anything beyond that. Instinct would find them a haven; know-how told him so.
    This street was sparsely populated, as Dahl had hoped. When being hunted, it was hard to know which was better – busy or quiet zones, but Dahl tended to lean toward the latter. He led his family deeper into what had become a virtual shanty town. The condition of the scattered houses persuaded him not to chance asking for a phone, mostly because instead of giving the impression of family abodes, they reminded him of drug dens. As they traipsed through the area, Dahl beginning to notice how pink the kids’ skin was starting to look, a throaty bellow ricocheted from wall to wall behind them.
    “Here!”
    Dahl cursed aloud and pulled his family into a headlong run. To the rear, a band of youths had filled the width of the street, bright t-shirts and tight jeans their uniform of choice. He saw no weapons, but most brandished cell phones.
    Did Grant’s connections reach so far and wide? If he and his family had been wearing anything other than bikinis and swim-shorts, he’d have started hunting for a tracking device, but this was an area where youths roamed free and any chance sighting might lead immediately to the wrong set of ears. Some communities were tight-knit, others stand-offish, but most passed information along at warp speed. Dahl wasted no more time wondering. They’d already traversed a fair warren and he imagined an even more convoluted array lay up ahead. At the next road, he darted right with his family. They plunged across a new road and up a sharply angled street, now in a more densely inhabited area. And higher-rent. Gates and curtained windows and peeling balconies now passed to both sides. Dahl heard the boys’ pursuit grow closer. He switched quickly down a side-street, hoping to encounter the cover of a natural crowd. White walls flashed by. Another juncture and another street, heading northeast again. Johanna was breathing hard at his side, feet slapping on the sidewalk. Scattered locals were a blur as his family passed. Faces turned