Silo

by Jay J Falconer

  “Toss the gun away and lace your hands together behind your head.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Lipton said from the truck, his voice echoing across the landscape. “They’re gonna kill us anyway. Don’t you see that?”

  “Toss it away,” Boone said. “Now.”

  Krista did as the man asked, sending the sidearm into the dirt.

  “Walk toward me. Slowly.”

  Krista put one foot in front of the other, working through a dozen scenarios in her mind as she factored in all the available data.

  Boone was a big man.

  At least twice her size.

  Even bigger than Fletcher.

  But he appeared to only have the pistol and what she assumed were spare mags in his tactical vest.

  Possibly a knife, too.

  It seemed odd that Fletcher sent a single man here alone, even if he was a mountain of testosterone, muscle, and facial hair.

  Why would Fletcher do that?

  Unless Fletcher couldn’t spare any more, needing to keep the others under control.

  That would mean his numbers were small.

  Either way, if she was going to make a move, she’d need to distract Boone. For a moment. Somehow. Just long enough to surprise him. Grab his gun.

  If she hadn’t been wearing a tactical rig herself, she could have lifted her shirt and flashed him. That would catch him off guard. Something he’d never expect. But her vest wouldn’t let that happen. Or her logic. No way to do that fast enough for any of it to work.

  Then again, given his enormous size and the one-sided nature of the situation, he might just think he couldn’t lose. Be overconfident.

  A straight-up attack might be something he’d never see coming. Not from a lowly woman. Some chick he’d never dueled with.

  But for any of it to work, she’d have to move fast.

  Before he got off a shot.

  Granted, Simms and Lipton were a calculated risk and what some might call acceptable losses, but she’d have no way to stop Fletcher from killing Summer if Boone’s gun went off. Assuming any of what Boone and Simms had said was true.

  Then again, she had no reason not to believe Boone. Or Simms. It all fit a profile. One she’d seen before, back in her days in the Army. It was called Force Multiplier—a term used to describe an unbalanced situation, where one side has far more power and resources.

  “Okay, I’ll do as you ask. Just stay calm, Boone,” Krista said.

  “No sudden moves, bitch, or the kid gets it.”

  “No sudden moves.”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Lipton yelled from the truck. “They’re gonna kill us all. Trust me. I know these men. That’s what they do. They kill everything.”

  CHAPTER 41

  “Let go of me,” Summer yelled at Fletcher, twisting her arm and trying to pull free as he dragged her forward toward Sergeant Barkley, who was pinned to the ground by a gray-haired guard.

  “I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” Fletcher said.

  “I thought we were friends.”

  “What? Because of what happened when the Scabs had you surrounded?”

  “Yeah, that and other things.”

  “You just don’t get it, do you, Summer?”

  “No. I don’t. There’s no reason for any of this.”

  “Spoken like the true believer you are.”

  “Believer of what?”

  “Right and wrong.”

  “And you don’t?” she asked, trying to make sense of the man’s gibberish.

  “Doesn’t matter any more. Not after The Event. Now it all boils down to one thing.”

  “Yeah, and what’s that?”

  “Those that take and those that don’t. There’s simply no room for anything else.”

  She wanted to snark at him about how those were two things, not one, but she kept her lips silent. “Please, stop. You need to let us go. We’re no threat to you.”

  “Again, none of that matters. This is about taking what’s ours.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “And you keep ignoring it.”

  “But I don’t know what it means,” Summer said. “Or what you want. Please, we can work this out.”

  Fletcher pushed Summer down to her knees next to the dog, then shoved her head forward and pressed her nose into the dirt.

  Sergeant Barkley whimpered, his eyes on fire with fear. Or anger. Or pain. She couldn’t tell. Regardless, she was in the same situation as her furry friend.

  Fletcher grabbed the back of Summer’s head, taking in a handful of hair with his fingers. He pulled her up to her knees, then spun her head to bring her eyes to his. His tone went deep and purposeful when he asked, “Do you have the courage to hear the silence?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The silence. Do you hear it?”

  “No. I don’t hear shit. Just you breathing in my ear.”

  “That’s the sound of your future. A future of nothing.”

  Summer tried to spit at the man but missed. “What are you, nuts or something? Let go of me.”

  “The end is here, you little pain in the ass.”

  Right then, Krista and Lipton came into view, both of them walking with their arms up.

  The big man Fletcher had sent was two steps behind them, carrying a pistol in each hand, looking proud of himself.

  When Summer angled her eyes, she saw Horton being led to her position by a towering man with jet-black hair that hung down his back. His facial features indicated he was of American Indian descent.

  Dice had Simms by the back of his shirt collar, escorting him to Summer’s position as well. She recognized him—the same man she’d met at the Trading Post when her entire world exploded into a bloody rage.

  The Indian shoved Horton, and Dice did the same to Simms, sending them both to the ground on their knees.

  Fletcher waved a hand at the big man escorting Krista and Lipton. “Bring her here, Boone.”

  Boone didn’t hesitate, dragging Krista over and throwing her to the ground next to Simms.

  Then, for no apparent reason, he kicked her in the stomach with a swift, powerful boot, making Krista gasp and double over.

  Boone laughed, then grabbed Krista by the back of the neck and swung her head to the side.

  Then he punched her, nailing her with a right cross.

  She hit the dirt again, spitting out blood.

  He grabbed her again, this time pulling her upright to her knees.

  “I’m gonna kill you first, Boone,” Krista said after a grimace.

  Boone’s mouth twisted into a half smile. “Yeah, that’ll be the day.”

  “You see, this is what happens when the Universe decides to rebalance the equation, Krista,” Lipton said in that snide voice of his.

  He too was under control of a guard, only his hands were not bound behind his back and his face was not being crammed into the dirt.

  If Summer didn’t know better, she would have thought he was part of their team, standing with little emotion.

  Right on cue, Lipton turned his focus to Fletcher. “Thank you, Fletch. I wasn’t sure any of my pals back home had noticed I’d been abducted. You won’t believe what they’ve been making me do.”

  Krista swung her eyes to Lipton. “You fucking snake.”

  Dice stepped forward and unleashed a backhand across Krista’s cheek, making a smack that might have been heard a few counties away.

  Krista flopped sideways, her head smashing into the ground.

  “All right, that’s enough, boys. It’s time to end this,” Fletcher said to his men as Boone pulled Krista back to her knees.

  “Who do you want to start with, boss?” Dice asked.

  “Oldest to youngest seems about right.”

  The Indian leaned into Horton’s ear. “Looks like it’s your turn, again.”

  “Fuck off, Archer,” Horton said, his chin up and shoulders square.

  Dic
e spoke to Horton next, pointing at Summer. “For the second time, that girl is going to get you killed, brother. And yet you still defy us and side with her?”

  “On second thought,” Fletcher said, pointing at Simms. “Let’s start with the kid.”

  “Wait. No,” Summer said. “Only me. I’m the leader of this expedition, so punish me. Not them. They are just doing what I told them.”

  “Belay that order, Fletcher,” Krista said. “Don’t listen to her. I’m the real person in charge here. I’m the one responsible. So let them all go. Except Lipton. You can have his sorry ass.”

  “Well, would you look at that, Fletch,” Dice said, looking amused. “We have ourselves a couple of heroes.”

  “Heroines, you dumbass,” Summer said, no longer caring what these men thought. “Krista works for me. I alone should take responsibility.”

  Fletcher leaned down and brought his mouth to within an inch of Summer’s. “You really don’t understand, do you?”

  She turned her head away, needing to give her nose a break from the smell of his breath. “About what?”

  “What this is.”

  “It’s not punishment,” Dice said, interrupting the conversation. “It’s a clean sweep. As in all of you.”

  “All right, let’s do this,” Fletcher said, motioning to Dice.

  Dice pulled an eight-inch knife from his hip, then brought it up and around to the front of Simms’ throat, his eyes looking up at Fletcher.

  Fletcher raised his free arm, pointing his index finger upward, then brought it down and aimed it at Dice, as if he were giving the signal to start a NASCAR race.

  “Well, well, what do we have here?” a woman’s voice called out from the trees on the right.

  Fletcher and Dice both stopped what they were doing, turned, and looked in the direction of the voice.

  So did Summer, seeing a woman approaching from the thicket of trees with her hands behind her back. A woman she knew well. A woman with glasses and dark, curly hair.

  “Who the hell is this chick, Fletcher?” Boone asked.

  “Liz?” Summer mumbled.

  “I think you boys need to rethink the situation,” Liz said, moving through the grass with methodical steps, not appearing to be in any hurry. “Those are my friends and you need to let them all go. This very instant.”

  “And why would we do that?” Fletcher asked her, looking more amused than on alert.

  “Because I said so.”

  Fletcher held up the blade in his hand. “Lady, I don’t know who you think you are, but you are not in a position to demand anything.”

  “Oh, I think I am.”

  “Liz, stay back. Please,” Summer said, praying her friend would listen.

  Fletcher laughed, then waved a signal at a dark-skinned man who was half the size of Boone. “Sketch, go take care of that bitch. Personal like.”

  “With pleasure, boss,” Sketch said before taking out a blade and running at Liz.

  CHAPTER 42

  Liz Blackwell stood with trembling hands behind her back, convincing her legs to remain still, even though every fiber in her body wanted her to turn and run.

  It’s for the children. It’s for the children, she kept reminding herself, letting the visuals of their lifeless bodies boil in her thoughts.

  The man running at her wasn’t much bigger than she was, but he had a knife drawn. A huge knife, the kind that can open caverns of flesh and impale organs.

  If she had Krista’s training, she might have been able to fend him off with punches and kicks, but she was a healer. Not a combatant. So she’d have to stick to the plan and stand firm.

  She sucked in a deep breath as he closed fast, now at a distance of thirty feet, with his boots in high gear.

  A second or two later, he reached twenty feet and then he arrived at the ten-foot line, crossing her mark.

  “For the children,” she screamed as she brought the pistol out from behind her back, aimed the sights at the man called Sketch, and then pulled the trigger, all before his next foot hit the grass.

  The man’s head exploded, sending sprays of red in multiple directions. Then his body went limp all at once, skidding into a flop on his back, stopping only inches from her feet.

  She pulled the trigger again, this time aiming at the center of his chest. The round hit its mark, tunneling deep into tissue with a blood trail following.

  Liz fired again and again, her mind showing her the faces of the children as she emptied the magazine of its rounds.

  She knew she was the one pulling the trigger, but that was not how it felt. It was almost as though someone else was in charge of her body, sending round after round into this man.

  When the gun only clicked, Liz craned her neck up to see Fletcher standing by Summer with his mouth agape.

  Before Fletcher could react, one of his other men called out, pointing at the trees behind the group. “Fletcher. Look. They’re gone.”

  * * *

  Summer felt Fletcher’s grip fade as he turned to look in the direction of Dice, who had just pointed at the tree trunks behind them and yelled.

  Summer didn’t hesitate, pulling away in a yank. The sudden movement sent her off balance, stumbling and rolling in the grass.

  When she turned over and looked up, she realized the tree trunks were empty. Only cut ropes and hoods remained on the ground. Somehow the four bound prisoners had escaped.

  “Shit, now where’s the girl?” Dice said, his eyes looking at the location in the grass where Helena’s body used to be.

  “Jesus Christ. What are these people? Ghosts?” Boone asked.

  “It’s obvious. They’re trying to misdirect you,” Lipton said, his tone full of angst.

  “Did you lose something?” a booming male voice said from a stand of bushes forty feet away.

  All of Fletcher’s men turned in unison, some of them aiming their weapons at the bushes.

  Summer looked in that direction as well, but all she saw was the green of the forest acting as a backdrop, obscuring anything beyond the border of the clearing. No sounds either, like crunching leaves or branches.

  “Death is the great equalizer,” the unknown voice added, sounding as though his words were coming at them from multiple directions.

  “Shit, now the other one’s gone,” Dice said, pointing ninety degrees to the left, where Liz had been standing.

  “Enough of these games. Show yourself,” Fletcher said in a commanding tone.

  “Turn around,” the voice said an instant later, his tone echoing across the clearing.

  That’s when Summer heard it happen—the swoosh of a sword, then the roar of a warrior, as a cloaked man flew into frame and attacked from behind.

  It was Nomad, running forward with his cloak trailing in the wind as he hacked off the arm of Archer, who was guarding Horton.

  Archer screamed as blood shot out from the stump.

  Nomad continued his assault, seeming to defy gravity as he spun in midair and brought his blade around and under Archer’s groin, chopping into the man’s genitals.

  Archer toppled over as Nomad sprinted and spun again with the grace and speed of a cat, bringing his blade around and catching the side of the head of the gray-haired man who was still pinning the dog to the dirt.

  The edge of his weapon sank deep into the old guy’s skull, splitting bone and brain matter as a chunk of his head peeled off in a spray of red. The man’s body fell to the side, freeing the dog from its capture.

  Sergeant Barkley scurried to his feet, then ran at Fletcher, leaping into the air with an open jaw leading the charge.

  Summer watched the canine’s teeth open a gash on the side of Fletcher’s face as the animal hung onto his skin against the force of gravity.

  Fletcher groaned, twisted, and flailed, trying to knock the dog loose.

  Nomad twirled, turning his attention to Dice. He started toward him with a heavy step.

  Krista joined the action, sweeping her legs around and t
aking down Boone with a slew-foot maneuver. Then she brought an elbow up and around, landing it in the middle of his face with all her strength.

  Boone cried out and let go of the guns, then brought his hands up to his nose.

  Krista lunged across him and latched onto the weapons he’d dropped, then rolled twice in the grass as she moved away from him. She brought the pistols up and into a firing position, aiming them a Boone.

  Nomad’s feet pounded the grass behind Dice, who was now making a break for it. Nomad’s swiftness was impressive, but it was no match for Dice and his cheetah-like speed.

  Just when it appeared Dice would get away, another person appeared from the bushes where the booming voice had called out from earlier.

  It was Watson, the cook from the silo, with a tree branch in his hand. He pulled it back and swung it like a baseball bat, landing a blow to Dice’s neck.

  Dice’s feet went forward, while his head went backward, looking as though he’d just run into a clothesline.

  “Oh, to hell with this,” a familiar voice said from behind Summer. She turned to see Lipton running for the trees where the Scab women had been tied up, looking the part of both coward and traitor.

  Boone was still down and dealing with his mangled nose when Krista tossed one of the pistols to Simms, then waved at him to follow her.

  Nomad caught up to Dice in the grass, then pulled his second sword free from its sheath. He held both blades up for a second, then impaled Dice in the center of his chest with their tips.

  Dice screamed as Nomad let out a yell and twisted the blades in deep.

  Summer swung her head around when she heard Sergeant Barkley yelp. The shepherd was tumbling away, looking as though Fletcher had shot him out of a cannon.

  Fletcher’s hand went to his cheek, covering the gushing wound left behind by the dog’s teeth.

  An instant later, Helena came out of nowhere and let out a wolf-like scream as she jumped on Fletcher’s back.

  Her hands and teeth tore into the side of Fletcher’s neck, sending more of the man’s blood into the air.

  Fletcher reached up and grabbed Helena by her hair, pulling her forward and down onto her back using a swift, powerful slam, looking as though he was trying to drive her deep underground.

  Summer expected Helena to get up and attack him again, but she didn’t, only lying there motionless.