The last time he made his way into the hotel using Roy’s key was through a side door. This time it was the back entrance. Either one, or a half dozen others, was just as good since the locks were designed for only one key that was then duplicated and handed out to the Shakers’ command hierarchy—of which Harvey and Roy were two.
The door into the hotel was a thick piece of oak with metal lining along the four sides. It was an obvious upgrade. The lock itself was a complicated unit with multiple deadbolts. Whoever had put the security in place for The Deacon had known what he was doing. Like Claire, Keo had tried to pick the lock, but got nowhere. He could have used brute force to open the door, of course, but that would have sent an army of Shakers his way. That was where Roy had come in.
Keo fished out Harvey’s key now. There was an H engraved on both sides. Roy’s, of course, had an R. Keo had wondered what would happen if there were more than one Shaker commander with the same first letter. He supposed they’d probably add a second letter?
Except for the crickets and other insects, the resort grounds were deathly quiet. He found it hard to believe these people were currently on a war footing, with a possible battle with Arrowhead—and beyond—looming on the horizon.
Curiouser and curiouser.
There was a cylinder case with a keyway in the middle of the door, just above the doorknob, and a similar cylinder on the inside that could lock the door manually. Keo was familiar with those. It was all the parts between them that was the problem.
Harvey’s key slipped in easily, and the mechanism inside turned like butter. He listened to the whirring sounds of the bolts within the door moving, then retreating into their slots along the frame with three impossibly soft click-click-clicks.
Easy as pie, he thought as he pushed the door open—it creaked slightly with the weight of the wood, but not too much—and he peered in at a dark back hallway.
There were no lights, but he could make out sounds—footsteps—moving along the building’s tiled lobby all the way across the corridor. Too far away to worry him as he carefully closed the door behind him and pocketed the key.
Keo checked his watch as he moved up the hallway. 3:51 a.m. He’d wasted more time out in the fields than he’d wanted to. That left him with two hours, give or take, until the first rays of sunlight poked their heads through the clouds.
Gonna be cutting it a little close.
He stood in the unlit hallway, with his back against the cold wall, and peered out at the lobby. There were four men present—two sitting on chairs near the front doors and two more behind the guard’s station across the wide room. One or two, or maybe all four of them, were asleep, because Keo could hear snoring. The cavernous spacing of the lobby made it difficult to pinpoint who that was coming from.
He went into a slight crouch and took the first careful—and quiet; oh, so quiet—step into the lobby. Fortunately for him, the four guards were on the other side of the room, with the closest—the two behind the guard station—more than forty meters away.
And it was dark, too.
Thank God it was dark. At least where he was. There was a battery-powered lantern sitting on the guard station that gave off a small glow, but that was about it. The rest of the lights—what little of it there was—came from the high windows that circled the lobby’s ceiling and the glass front doors.
It was dark enough that Keo had to watch his step as he slinked his way from the back hallway to the elevators. But of course he didn’t go for the elevators. There was no power anyway, even if he wanted to make use of them.
No. His objective was the stairs, because his mission was up there.
Keo arrived at the first stairwell door without fanfare. He’d been keeping an eye on the four silhouettes—but mostly the two at the guard’s station—the entire time, and not a single one of them had moved. They were either all asleep or getting there. Not a surprise since it was the dead of night.
He put his hand on the cold stairwell doorknob and prayed the door didn’t squeak too loudly when he opened it and that there wasn’t someone standing right on the other side.
The door didn’t squeak.
Hallelujah!
And there wasn’t anyone on the other side.
Double hallelujah!
He opened the door just wide enough—it was dark on the other side, so no unnecessary lights spilled out to attract unwanted attraction in the lobby—and turned his body sideways before easing his way in.
Again, slowly and quietly—oh, so slowly and quietly—Keo guided the door until it clicked into place behind him. Then he stood very still and listened for something that might sound like another human being inside the stairwell.
One second…
Five…
Thirty…
Nothing.
And no one.
Triple hallelujah!
He was suddenly feeling very good. Apparently he was due for some good luck. He just hoped it held up.
Keo waited until his night eyes had adjusted enough for him to use what little natural lighting existed inside the stairwell to take the first steps up. The air was stale and unpleasant, and Keo shut off the olfactory to focus more on his eyes and ears in case there was someone hiding above him.
Was it possible there were no guards in the stairwell? Only in the lobby? What about the other floors?
He reached the second floor without any issues, or encountered anyone that he had to shoot, so Keo kept going.
The third floor was equally empty and quiet, and Keo continued on up.
The fourth floor came and went, and still no one.
He was feeling pretty good about his second stab at invading the hotel as he stopped at the turn in the stairs and looked up toward the fifth floor. Like the others, there were no signs of a sentry anywhere above him.
Goddamn, I should go find a roulette wheel, he thought as he took the first step up—
—when the steel door to the right of him clicked open loudly and a man stepped inside, a cigarette dangling from his mouth while he struggled to strike a lighter.
Keo turned, the MP5SD moving with him, even as his forefinger slipped into the trigger guard.
The man saw Keo at the same time that Keo spotted him.
They locked eyes for a brief second or two, though it seemed like longer. Much, much longer.
Finally, the man spoke first. “What are you doing here?”
It was Lance.
Fuck. It was Lance.
Twenty
“Whatever it takes,” he’d said to Lara.
“Whatever it takes, then,” she’d replied.
Whatever it takes, Keo thought now as he slipped his forefinger out of the submachine gun’s trigger guard and let it hang off the strap. He hadn’t completely taken his hand off the weapon—it would be a simple matter of moving his right hand slightly to return it to where it needed to be—but enough that he didn’t look like an immediate threat.
Or he was hoping that was how it came through as he turned and stepped down the two steps he’d managed to ascend before Lance came inside the stairwell.
Lance.
Keo had wondered if the man was dead or not, despite what Harvey had said. His former bunkmate certainly looked alive now, if beat up. There was a big welt underneath his right eye, and bandages lined his chin and temple. Bruising remained around one side of his neck, and Keo wondered where else he was struck by the blast.
Lance had given up lighting the cigarette when he spotted Keo, and now held the lighter in his left hand while his right dangled at his side. Very close to the holstered pistol. He carried a pump-action shotgun with a pistol grip slung over his back.
Keo wasn’t too worried about the shotgun. It was the Glock at Lance’s hip that concerned him. Keo could see it in Lance’s eyes. The man he’d known for two months now, who had walked him through the Dos and Don’ts and everything else in-between of surviving Shaker Town, was trying to decide if Keo was a threat or not, and how to
respond if he were.
“What are you doing here?” Lance asked again.
“Looking for a quiet place to nap,” Keo said, remembering the sleeping guards down in the lobby earlier. “Figured I might be able to get some shut-eye before sunup, so don’t tell anyone.”
“Up there?”
Keo jerked a thumb toward the ceiling. “The rooftop. It’s gotta be quieter up there.”
“It’s not.”
“How’d you know?”
“I already tried.”
“Good thing I didn’t waste my time, then.”
Lance continued to eyeball him. There was still lingering doubt in his face. Keo could see that much, even though it wasn’t very bright inside the stairwell. It helped that they were close enough and his night eyes had mostly adjusted to his surroundings.
Keo nodded at the cigarette dangling from Lance’s mouth. “You got another one?”
“Since when do you smoke?”
“Since now.”
Lance smirked, then used his right hand to take out a crumpled pack of Marlboros that looked as if it might fall apart at the seams as he shook out a cigarette. Keo grabbed the cig by the offered butt.
“What are you doing here?” Keo asked.
“What do you think?” Lance said.
“Playing hooky?”
“There’s nothing to do here. The other guys are already sleeping. I just snuck out for a little smoke.”
The Shaker went back to working on the lighter. It was the same beat-up chrome one he always carried. Lance got it working after three strikes and fired up his cigarette, before doing the same to Keo’s.
Keo didn’t smoke. It was a filthy habit and had no benefits whatsoever. But it wasn’t like he didn’t know how, and he took a puff and blew out smoke for show.
Lance was still watching him closely. Keo could practically hear the gears turning inside the other man’s head, trying to figure out what was happening, or if Keo was still a threat or not.
Go easy, pal. You wanna be going real easy here.
Keo turned around and walked over to the steps and sat down, but not before pushing the MP5SD behind his back.
It was a calculated move. He’d considered shooting Lance and ending it the second the man spotted him, but even suppressed, the submachine gun would make noise. It wasn’t like in the movies where guns barely whispered.
Here, in the closed confines of the stairwell, discharging a 9mm round, even one that was suppressed, would be noticed. Especially by the other guards on the fourth floor; the same guys that Lance had snuck away from to smoke. Most of it, of course, would depend on how close the others were to the stairwell at the time of the gunshot.
Keo didn’t want to take the chance.
Fortunately, his calculations worked, and Lance relaxed noticeably and walked over to sit down next to him. The other man puffed on his cigarette with a heavy sigh. Lance always did smoke like a man on death row sucking on his last cig.
“So you got assigned here, too?” Keo asked him.
“This afternoon,” Lance said.
“Thought you were in the infirmary.”
“I was.”
“You look like shit.”
“I feel it. I got bruises in places I don’t even know I had.”
“Man, I thought you were dead.”
“So did I.”
“What happened? Last time I saw you, you were on your horse. Then boom. I wake up on the street, and you were gone.”
Keo had been considering multiple angles, but had decided going on the offensive was the correct option. After all, if he could get Lance to keep answering his questions, then the man wouldn’t be able to ask his own.
“Shit, I don’t know,” Lance said.
The Shaker puffed again and blew out another big cloud. Keo did the same, resisting the urge to gag on all the smoke filling up the stairwell around him. Thank God the fire alarms no longer worked. At least, Keo didn’t think they did, or he’d draw even more attention to them than if he’d just shot Lance outright. But he was going under the assumption that nothing in the stairwell worked, or else Lance wouldn’t have snuck in here to smoke.
Unless, of course, this was Lance’s first time, and he didn’t know about the smoke alarms…
Positive thoughts, pal. Positive thoughts.
Lance was rubbing the big bandage over his forehead. “I woke up with the mother of all headaches. Felt like my skull was about to crack open.”
“Same here.”
“But you sure as hell look better than me.”
“What can I say? Good genes.” Then, without missing a beat, “When did you first wake up?”
“This morning.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, it was nuts.” He glanced over at Keo. “You?”
“I made it through mostly okay, except for this,” he said, running his finger over the stitches along his temple. Then he held up his left arm. “This was covered in bandages for a day.”
“That’s it?”
“Why? You wanted me in the infirmary, too?”
“Damn, you got lucky,” Lance said.
Keo nodded. “I did.”
“And then what?”
“And then what, what?”
“They said you went to Arrowhead with Harvey.”
Shit, Keo thought. He hadn’t considered that Lance might know about that.
“I did,” Keo said. “Then I came back.”
“And Harvey?”
“What about him?”
Lance was staring at him when he asked, “What happened to Harvey? I didn’t see him in town all day.”
Keo ignored the stare and puffed out another small burst of cloud. “Why were you looking for him?”
“Because they told me you went with him.”
“You were worried about me, huh?” Keo grinned. “Gee, I’m touched, Lance.”
The Shaker rolled his eyes. “Don’t be. I was just curious. So, what happened to Harvey? Where is he now?”
Keo shrugged. “I don’t know. We went our separate ways after we came back.”
“When was that?”
“Huh?”
“When did you guys come back?”
“I told you. Earlier yesterday.”
“I was looking for you guys all day yesterday.”
“It’s a big town, Lance.”
“Not that big.”
“Big enough.”
“Maybe.”
“What’s with all the questions?”
“Just wondering why nobody told me you were being posted here.”
Keo smirked. “Why would anyone have to tell you? You’re not that special. You were just another Shitty not too long ago.”
“I’m just saying,” Lance said.
The Shaker still hadn’t looked away from Keo and was talking with the cigarette between his lips. An inch of ash clung at the tip, threatening to fall off and onto the step between the two of them.
“What are you just saying, Lance?” Keo asked, even as he lowered his left hand, with the cigarette between two fingers, toward his waist.
“Someone should have told me, that’s all,” Lance said.
“Like who?”
“I dunno. Someone.”
Keo flicked the half-smoked Marlboro away and swiped at the knife, pulling it from its sheath even as he turned his body toward Lance.
“Sorry, buddy,” Keo said.
“What?” Lance said.
The Shaker’s eyes bulged, and ash from his dangling cigarette flicked into the air between them as Keo lunged, the knife coming up and shooting forward.
And into Lance’s midsection.
Keo drove it in deep. As deep as he could. And he didn’t stop until the guard of the knife had bumped up against Lance’s stomach.
“Motherfucker…” Lance whispered. For some reason, he still clung to the cigarette between his lips.
Keo thought Lance might try to scream, but he didn’t. Either because
it never occurred to him, or he didn’t have the strength for it.
Not that it mattered, really.
Lance leaned forward and clung to Keo as if searching for a lifeline. The cigarette finally dropped from between his lips and landed on the step between them. The fired end continued to burn in the semidarkness of the stairwell.
Whatever it takes, Keo thought as he raised his right hand and slapped it over Lance’s mouth to keep him from screaming (Just in case), and twisted the knife.
Twenty-One
Did he feel bad about Lance?
Yes.
Was it going to stop him from doing what he had to do? What he’d come here over two months ago to do?
No.
It was as simple as that.
Whatever it takes.
As much as Keo wanted to believe he’d improved as a human being since The Purge, and had since earned the love of a woman like Lara, he wasn’t going to lie to himself: He was who he was, and nothing was going to change that.
Not Lance.
Not Shaker Town.
Not anything.
Whatever it takes.
He was going to do whatever it took to get the job done.
Whatever it took to go home.
Whatever it took to get back to Lara.
Whatever it fucking takes.
So he left Lance’s body on the fourth-floor landing. He’d considered taking his former Shaker friend’s shotgun, but decided against it. The MP5SD was good enough. It was designed for both close quarters and distance combat. (So maybe mostly for the former.) Besides, if he needed a backup weapon other than the pistol at his hip, he was probably in trouble anyway.
His trip to the fifth and final floor of the former resort hotel was uneventful, which was a good thing because Keo didn’t feel like wasting more time. Sunup was fast approaching—less than two hours now, according to his watch—and he needed to be out of Shaker Town in the worst way.
He hated this place.
He hated the people. The smell. The food.
Most of all, he hated being away from Lara. He should have been with her right now, waiting for her to give birth. Not in his wildest dreams did Keo ever think he’d be responsible for bringing another life into this world.
Road To Babylon | Book 10 | 100 Deep Page 16
