by Brant, Jason
Fred bobbed his head. “So one group might have a demon… Vladdie, whatever… that can speak, but another group might be making more intricate tunnel systems.”
“Exactly.” Cass grimaced as her back tightened. “But that’s just a guess.”
“Now we’re supposed to make important decisions based on your guesses?” Becky scoffed.
Cass clenched her teeth. “I’ve had just about enough of your—”
Lance stopped her again. “Before we give you any more info, I have a few questions of my own.”
“Go ahead.” Emily’s soft gaze hardened a bit. “We’re an open book.”
“Why didn’t you tell us that you had some kind of relationship with that lunatic Valerie?”
“You were strangers. We didn’t know who you were, and I didn’t want to tell you any more than I had to.” Emily gestured around. “I have a lot of people to protect here.”
“But you acted like you didn’t even know where their camp was.” Lance cocked his thumb at Cass. “Valerie mentioned you by name to my wife. And you locked up the man we brought back with us.”
“You didn’t tell them anything?” Fred asked Emily.
“No. Why would I?”
“You just sent them in there blind?”
“I—”
“That’s right,” Lance interjected. “She did. And it might have cost my friend his life. How much do you know about that psycho Magnus King? Did you know he was sacrificing some of your people to the Vladdies?”
Emily finally averted her gaze, inspecting her desk. “There have been a few murmurs suggesting something like that might be happening.”
“What?” Fred exploded out of his chair, rounding on Emily.
“I didn’t know they were true!”
“But you had an idea that might be the case?” Fred gaped at his boss. “How could you keep that from me?”
Emily glared. “Because I knew you would want to go up there after them. And it’s my responsibility to take care of everyone here. We can’t throw lives away because something might have happened.”
“I can’t believe this.” Fred started pacing around the office, scowling at the carpet as he mulled everything over. “I wanted to push harder on those Bandit bastards months ago, and you held me back. Can’t believe I let you talk me out of it.”
“You knew they were selling our people to Valerie,” Becky said. “Don’t give us this high-and-mighty crap.”
“And that was bad enough! If I’d known some of us were being sacrificed to those goddamn demons, I would have done something.” Fred’s face was turning a curious case of purple. “They declared war on us, and we didn’t even know it.”
“How many have you lost to them?” Cass asked quietly.
“It’s impossible to tell.” Emily held her head in her hands. “Some people move on willingly. We don’t know how many people leave or are taken.”
“Why would anyone leave here?” Lance asked.
“Mostly because they’re afraid of being in a place with so many other survivors. A settlement this big attracts a lot of attention from the demons and other people. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows here.” Becky waved her hand in another dismissive gesture. “You can’t possibly fathom how difficult it is to maintain a place like this.”
Cass ground her teeth, but she managed to stay semi-calm for a change.
“I can’t believe this shit.” Fred continued pacing. “We’ve sat by and let Valerie take our people, and we didn’t do a damn thing about it. Well, that’s changing right now.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Lance said. “Cass killed one of the Bandits, I sliced up King’s face, and one of Valerie’s bigwigs defected with us. If you weren’t at war with all three groups before, you sure as hell are now.”
“Great,” Emily muttered.
“Not to mention the two or three Vladdies’ nests we kicked on our way out,” Cass said. “They were pretty pissed off, too.”
Lance nodded. “I cut up the one that spoke to me. Eifort shot it as well. It’s probably less than pleased.”
“I told you we shouldn’t have let them in here.” Becky leaned toward Emily. “Maybe we can—”
“Shut up, Becky.” Fred stopped pacing, facing them. “We have to fight back.”
“And risk losing everything we’ve built?” Emily stood, meeting Fred at eye level. “How many do we risk losing over this?”
“I don’t think you’re understanding what we’re saying,” Lance said. “They’re coming for us sooner or later. All of us. We either make a stand now, or we’re going to be fending off sneak attacks from now until we all finally die.”
“If they figure out how to cut the power to this place, we’re toast.” Cass focused her attention on Emily, figuring she had the last say in what her people did. “The Vladdies will tear this place apart.”
“They wouldn’t dare cut the power. We’re running off the same system they are. If they take us down, they’re cut off, too. They don’t have the know-how to separate us. Besides, we have backups.” Emily kept her gaze on Fred. “We’re safe here.”
“You talking about the solar panels?” Fred asked. “And what if we have a cloudy day? What happens when it snows or a hurricane hits us?”
Emily didn’t respond.
Even Becky inspected her feet, stayed quiet.
“You need to tell us everything,” Lance said. “Starting with what you know about all three camps.”
4
The rumble of the engine reverberated through the empty streets, making it difficult to judge how close it was. If Greg had to guess, he’d say it was at least a block away, maybe two. He peeked through the broken windows on the front of the store, looking both ways.
No vehicle.
Doc Brown and the nameless guard jogged down the sidewalk toward him, both carrying a few items from the pharmacy. Greg stepped out to meet them, clutching his drone and batteries.
“Who was that?” Greg asked.
“Bandits. They’re the only ones who drive around the city,” the guard said, huffing as he came to a stop.
Greg’s shoulders tensed. The Bandits had kidnapped them. Abused and sold them. They’d given Adam over to the cultists who had attempted to sacrifice him. He sneered as he realized he had other men to kill.
Emmett stopped beside them, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. “Do they usually come this close to your building, Will?”
“Nah, never. We’d take potshots at them.” The guard, apparently named Will, frowned. “Something ain’t right. We better get back.”
“I’m following the truck.” Greg ran after the fleeting sound of the engine without waiting for a response.
“Hold on,” Emmett called after him. “Greg, wait!”
He didn’t slow down.
The fall air chilled his face as he sprinted down the sidewalk and cut through an alley. The vehicle was getting farther away, but it didn’t seem to be traveling all that fast. Greg wondered if it was the same one they’d tied him up in. The one Cass had killed a man in.
He hoped so.
If he got the chance, he planned to set that damn thing on fire and watch it burn.
After turning onto a wide street and cutting right, he felt his endurance begin to wane. The others’ bodies had hardened over the years, as his had to a lesser extent, but he’d never been much of an athlete, especially not a runner.
He considered dropping the drone, but decided to keep it if only to surprise Paul. Besides, Greg might not catch up to the Bandits at all and he wanted to have something to show for his trip. He feared Lilith figuring out he’d gone scavenging just to get away from her. Going back empty-handed would be a big clue to his actual intent.
The engine seemed to stop moving somewhere ahead of him. It didn’t shut off, but it wasn’t moving farther anyway.
Greg stopped running, listening for anything beyond his own labored breathing. The vehicle had definitely stopped, though he d
idn’t think it was on the same road he was. Even though abandoned cars lined the sidewalks and occasionally the middle of the street, he would have been able to see it.
Behind him, Emmett and Will chugged along, calling out for him to wait.
Greg ignored them and plunged ahead, running across the street, turning left at an intersection. If he could just catch up to the van, or what he hoped was the van, he—well, he actually had no idea what he intended to do.
Shoot at them?
Try to capture one?
Hell, he wasn’t sure.
But he did know he had to do something to strike back at everyone who aided in the death of his best friend, and there wasn’t a better time than the present. As he approached the end of the block, he slowed. He paused beside the edge of a building, peered around the corner.
The large moving van idled a hundred feet away, in the middle of the next intersection. The back was open. Men stood inside the door, holding rifles at the ready as they scanned the area.
One of the roadblocks the survivors in The Light had constructed to block access to their building stretched in front of the vehicle. It mostly consisted of old, beat-up cars parked end to end with some signs and garbage cans filling the small spaces between.
Three men stood in front of the barrier, aiming rifles over the top of it. Two more dragged something across the concrete toward the barricade.
Greg dropped the drone and batteries, hearing them clatter to the sidewalk. He squinted, trying to see what the Bandits were doing.
Emmett and Will approached from behind him, their breathing ragged and too loud. Their footfalls echoed slightly as they clomped closer. Greg waved for quiet without glancing their way.
The men dragging something stopped in front of the barricade.
Hefted the object onto the roof of the closest car.
That was when Greg realized what it was.
A body.
The head lolled on its shoulder, lifeless and flaccid.
Beyond that, Greg couldn’t make out many other details due to the distance between them. Not understanding what the men were doing with a dead body, he considered moving closer, but feared the guards in the rear of the truck would spot him.
Instead, he grabbed the sling holding the rifle to his back and lifted it over his head. Holding onto the gun, he kicked the drone out of his way before easing to the sidewalk, lying flat on his stomach. He inched his way around the corner, peering into the scope atop his gun.
It didn’t provide much magnification, nor did it allow him to make out any other details, but he liked it a lot better than the iron sights on most of the weapons he’d used. Eifort had told him the name of the optic when she’d handed him the gun, but he couldn’t remember it.
And he didn’t care just then.
“What are you doing?” Emmett whispered from a few feet away.
“The Bandits are up there at one of the roadblocks,” Greg said in a hushed voice. “They’re dragging a body on top of it.”
“Huh?” Will asked. “Why would they do that?”
“No idea, bro.”
Emmett knelt beside Greg. “But what are you doing?”
“I’m going to shoot them.”
“What? I don’t think that’s—”
The men standing in front of the barricade opened fire, sending dozens of bullets down the street. Gunshots rocked the entire area, the thunder frightening and shocking in the silence of the dead city.
They fired for at least ten seconds before emptying their guns.
One jumped on the hood of a car, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Ahoy there, pussies.”
Greg sighted the man, trying to make out any details he could. The guy had long hair, but so did the rest of the Bandits. He might have had tattoos, or he could have worn a long-sleeved shirt. It was too far away to tell.
“We found your friend here out in the woods. He looked a little out of place, so I figured I’d return him to you,” the man continued. “He’s a bit worn out right now, so we’ll just leave him here for you to come and gather up.”
“Can you see who they have?” Emmett asked.
“No.” Greg kept his eyes on the prize. “I wouldn’t know anyone from The Light anyway, bro.”
Goddamn it, he thought.
The man jumped from the hood to the roof.
He kicked the dead body in the side of the head, twisting the neck at an unnatural angle. “Now, let this be a warning to you fucks. If you think what we did to this little pussy is bad, wait until you see what we have in store for the rest of you. See you soon, sweethearts.”
Greg felt his stomach lurch at the sight of the man kicking the body. The brutality of it shocked him for some reason, even though he understood the men were little more than animals. Kicking a dead body was low on the list of horrible deeds they’d committed.
The man hopped down from the car, landing beside his fellow assholes.
They shared a big laugh.
Greg flipped off his safety.
“No,” Emmett hissed. “Don’t!”
Greg opened fire.
The gun wasn’t an automatic, so he had to pull the trigger continuously to send as many bullets down the street as possible.
Since he wasn’t all that proficient with guns, he shot way too quickly, causing his rifle to buck all over the place. That screwed his aim up royally.
Even still, the first round caught one of the jokers dead center in the chest, dropping him to the street. The second bullet winged another man in the shoulder. The rest went wild, hitting the barricade, the sidewalk, the van, and almost everything else between Greg and his targets.
Two guards in the back of the van returned fire, shooting in different directions, unaware of Greg’s locations. A few of their shots hit the road in front of Greg, but weren’t close enough to make him flee.
The men by the barricade crouched low and ran for the van, shouting and pointing down the street for the others to keep firing. They reached the rear of the vehicle as Greg’s magazine ran dry. They climbed inside, disappearing through the open door.
Both guards stopped firing. One reached up, slammed the door down.
Will finally decided to join the fight and spun around the corner beside Greg, dropping down to one knee. He fired half-a-dozen rounds at the truck, punching holes in the side and the back.
Sparks flew.
The engine roared.
Tires spewed smoke.
Black exhaust billowed from the tail pipe.
With a lurch, the vehicle shot forward, disappearing down a side street.
Greg ejected the magazine just as Eifort had showed him. She’d forced him to do some weapons training on the island. Though he hated every second of it, he now appreciated what she’d taught him. After fumbling around for several seconds, he managed to dig another mag out of his pocket. It took several tries to jam it home because his hands were shaking.
Emmett put a calming hand on his shoulder. “It’s over.”
“It won’t be over until they’re all dead.” Greg tried to sound tough, but his insides felt like mush. He’d never considered himself much of a fighter, let alone someone who could actually shoot another human being. His hands shook from adrenaline as he raised the rifle to his shoulder again.
Sighted the man lying in front of the barrier.
The Bandit was on his side, a hand pressed against the wound in his chest. He wailed something unintelligible.
Even through his anger, Greg felt a pang of remorse for the bastard.
But not enough to regret what he’d done.
He planned to do a whole lot more.
The three walked forward, listening as the van continued speeding away through the city. Its sound faded as they approached the wounded man. Greg and Will kept their rifles ready, though Emmett hadn’t even unslung his.
If Greg wasn’t a fighter, then the doc was a borderline pacifist. In the old days, Emmett had been ardently anti-gun. The end
of civilization hadn’t changed a lot of those sentiments. Of course, he’d realized they were needed just to survive day to day in their current situation, but he’d struggled to cope with his revulsion of the weapons.
Greg had always respected Emmett for, well, sticking to his guns, for lack of a better phrase. The man hated violence, and he rarely became a part of it.
“Nice shot,” Will said. “You got one of ‘em, at least.”
“But I missed the rest. They were just standing there.” Greg slammed a fist against his thigh in frustration. “I should have nailed them all.”
They approached the intersection where the van had idled, glancing left to make sure it wasn’t parked down the road even though they’d heard it drive away. Nothing but fallen leaves blowing along the pavement moved for as far as they could see.
The wounded man gibbered as they approached.
Greg ignored him, walking to the barricade.
Emmett knelt beside the Bandit, trying to examine him. The man pattered at Emmett with lethargic, bloody hands, but the doc was able to calm him and put pressure on his chest wound.
The guy whined as Emmett pressed down.
Greg barely heard it, the sounds around him quieting as if someone had turned down the volume dial on the world. His limbs felt rubbery and loose. The rifle fell to his side before slipping from his grasp, clattering to the sidewalk.
The body the Bandits had left was stretched across the roof of the car, the face turned away from Greg.
Even still, he recognized the dried-out exit wound on the side of the head, the blood-caked hair. Adam’s destroyed head had looked the same way when Greg had left him in the woods.
5
Lance could practically feel the anger baking off his wife in waves. Ever since they’d sat, that pissy Becky woman had antagonized Cass left and right. She had no idea what kind of hornet’s nest she kept poking.
If Cass hadn’t injured her back during the Great Escape, Lance felt certain she would have already wiped the floor with Becky.
Fortunately for everyone, Cass struggled while climbing a handful of stairs, let alone banging some chick’s head off the desk. Still, he had to keep calming her down as she got herself all ramped up.
