by Brant, Jason
And he would do whatever was necessary to ensure her safety.
“We’re going to the roof to see if we can figure out where they are. We have a drone to search the city, and Eifort has a huge rifle to shoot with. She’s a total badass with guns, so if we spot anyone, she’ll take care of them.”
Brandon noticed a small circle of people standing in front of the makeshift jail cell housing the guy who’d helped Charlie and Cass escape from Valerie’s place. The cell was just a windowless office with a heavy-duty lock put on the door.
The guard who watched over it most of the day was there, along with Emily Snow, Becky Robinson, and a few other people Brandon didn’t recognize. He’d avoided the guard when walking by the cell because the guy was a bit of an ass. The dude couldn’t be more than four or five years older than Brandon, but stood quite a bit taller and had a lot more muscle.
And he always eyed Charlie in a way that made Brandon want to sock him in the mouth. He would have confronted the guy about it already, but that would have resulted in him getting pummeled through the floor.
Charlie noticed Brandon’s attention had shifted elsewhere, following his gaze.
“What’s going on?” Brandon asked.
“They’re arguing whether or not to let Bill out.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“He helped us escape, didn’t he?” Charlie shrugged. “He was almost killed by the demons just like the rest of us. I don’t think it’s right to keep him locked up like that. I sure didn’t like it when they had me in a cage.”
Brandon couldn’t argue with any of that. Bill had risked his life to get them out of Valerie’s camp. The trip back to The Light had almost cost him his life. No one would have survived if Bill hadn’t helped. The big guy had carried Brandon through the city with demons nipping at their heels.
“Mr.… Bill?” Emily asked, facing the door. “We have some questions for you.”
The guard, sitting on a folding chair beside the door, grumbled something as he fished keys from his front pocket. His short black hair jutted out in all directions. Catching sight of Charlie and Brandon watching them, he smirked.
Brandon wanted to flip him off.
The guard stood, unlocked the door, and stepped aside. He smiled at Charlie, gave her an approving nod. When he turned his attention back to the cell, Brandon felt the overwhelming urge to run over and kick him in the ass.
Bill appeared inside the door a moment later, his massive body taking up most of the space. A scowl contorted his mouth as he took in his captors. “If I answer your questions, will you let me out of this damn room?”
“Yes.” Emily stood in front of him, arms crossed over her chest. Bill towered over her. “As long as we think you’re answering truthfully, you’ll be given a room like the rest of us. How does that sound?”
“Sounds good, ma’am.” Bill leaned against the doorframe. “Shoot.”
“If you lie to us, we’ll throw you outside for the demons.” Becky wagged her finger in Bill’s face.
“Becky,” Emily sighed. “Let me handle this.”
“He needs to know we mean business.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Well, I’m just saying.”
Brandon didn’t have time to eavesdrop on their bickering. The others were waiting for him on the roof, and he didn’t feel like dealing with The Wildman bitching at him for being late. He pulled Charlie close, gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Be careful.” Charlie held him tight for a moment, gave him a long kiss.
Warmth spread through Brandon’s stomach.
And other places.
The last thing he wanted to do was leave her. Spending some time with her would be a tad more enjoyable than dealing with the weirdo with the weirdo accent on the roof. But he knew what he had to do to keep everyone safe.
To protect Charlie.
“I’ll be back soon.” Brandon finally released her, then headed for the stairs. He gave Bill a small nod when their gazes met.
The big man nodded back, his face grim, eyes little more than slits.
As Brandon pushed through the door leading to the stairwell, he heard Emily asking Bill about his old boss.
18
Cold rain plopped into Cass’ hair. She stopped, raising her face to the cloudy sky. Fat drops fell to her cheeks. The water cooled her skin, soothed her over-revved body.
The temperature had continued dropping as they followed the Bandits’ footprints. A heavy wind had cleared much of the dust in the air, but had also wiped away most of the tracks. They’d managed to follow the trail back to the place where they’d split off from Greg and Emmett.
From there, the footprints had all but disappeared.
Greg’s blood dotted the way.
They followed red splotches, remaining quiet for the first block.
“Do you think Dragon will ever have a normal life?” Lance asked, breaking the silence between them.
“You want to have this conversation right now?”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re following our friend’s blood trail? Because there are ex-cons running around the city trying to kill us?”
“What’s your point?” Lance winked.
“Sometimes, you make me wonder about you.”
“Only sometimes?”
“If I answer your question about Lincoln, will you stop being so annoying?”
“Probably not.”
Cass laughed despite herself, in spite of the insanity of the day. Of their lives. “Depends what you mean by normal. Is he going to veg on the couch and stuff Cheetos in his mouth all day like you did? No, and thank God for that. He’s going to have a hard life, but a good one. We’re going to spend the rest of our days making sure he has a better future than our present.”
“They weren’t Cheetos. They were potato chips. Rippled.” Lance rubbed his stomach, making mmm sounds.
Cass ignored him. “He won’t grow up soft like our generation did. He’ll be tough and strong. He’ll be a fighter.”
“We were going to build him a life on the islands, too. And now we’re in downtown Baltimore getting our asses kicked by some Hell’s Angels rejects.”
“But he has Super Nintendo now.”
“That’s true. Contra will make a man out of him.”
The space between the drops of blood lengthened as they followed them. The trail cut across the street, heading deeper into the city.
Cass thought of the dozens of similar conversations they had over the years. When it was just the two of them, survival was their only concern.
Now they had Dragon.
Lincoln, Cass thought. Son of a bitch!
When their son was born, their priorities had switched.
They couldn’t just survive anymore—they had to thrive.
Their boy needed more than a life of scarcity and fear and hiding from the darkness. He needed safety and security, hope and promise. There had to be a future for him to strive for. His life needed purpose and prosperity.
Though Cass had loved the islands when they’d first arrived, her appreciation had dwindled the longer they lived there. Their remoteness kept them safe from the Vladdies, but it also isolated them from other people. They’d imprisoned themselves without knowing it.
Spending his youth interacting with the same ten people would have untold deleterious effects on his mental health. Humans needed other humans.
A stunted mind was its own prison.
They’d all feared leaving the safety of the islands, but Cass longed for something more for Lincoln. When they were forced to abandon their homestead, part of Cass had rejoiced.
Discovering The Light was beyond anything she could have asked for.
But finding other survivors had come at a cost.
Whether they were willing to continue paying that toll was a question they couldn’t answer yet. Things had gone from bad to worse in the span of a single morning.
But what choice did they have?
They could push farther inland, hope they ran across other survivors who weren’t warring with other psychotic camps. Maybe there would be fewer Vladdies than in the city. Or maybe they would encounter a situation worse than anything they could imagine.
There were no guarantees.
The fact they had power now was a huge draw by itself. When trying to fight back monsters that were vulnerable to light, producing electricity was the equivalent of alchemy.
No matter which way she thought about it, Cass always came back to the idea The Light gave them the best chance to create a life worth living.
“The blood trail goes in there.” Lance pointed at a massive building ahead. “Looks like some kind of arena.”
“Wow.” Cass stopped beside him, taking in the series of smashed windows. “How did you figure out it’s an arena? Couldn’t have been all the banners and signs in front of it, right?”
“Can you remind me why I married you again?”
“Because I’m the last woman on the planet willing to have sex with you.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Cass’ leg gave out as she started forward again. Lance caught her by the arm. Held her steady. He watched her closely as she tested her weight on the leg. The knifing agony in her lower back twisted down into her hip, slicing all the way to her toes.
“We need to get you back to The Light,” Lance said. “I’ll come back and look for Greg and the doc later.”
“No way. We aren’t splitting up again. Ever again. You get yourself in all kinds of trouble when I’m not around.”
Lance scratched his chin, giving her a smug look. “I don’t seem to recall which of us was kidnapped by a gang and sold to a crazy, man-hating chick.”
Cass opened her mouth to dig at him when another nauseating twinge hit her spine. She had to focus on breathing slowly and steadily to keep from vomiting.
“You can barely walk.” Lance gave her arm a slight tug. “Come on. I’ll bring Eifort with me when I come back if it makes you feel any better.”
“Don’t make me kick your ass.” Cass pulled her arm away, forcing her back to straighten. She tried to hide the grimace that wanted to twist her features. She failed. “You aren’t leaving my sight again.”
“You couldn’t lift your foot high enough to kick me in the ass.”
Cass gestured at the arena. “Get moving or I’ll—”
A door exploded open on the side of the building, fifty yards away. It swung into a wide sidewalk running the length of the arena. Emmett spilled out the door, stumbling over a discarded backpack.
His head jerked around as he checked in both directions.
When he spotted Lance and Cass, he stopped dead in his tracks for a moment, his face flashing in surprise.
Lance and Cass started toward him.
Emmett sprinted up the sidewalk, waving his hands in a warding-off gesture.
“Someone’s chasing him,” Cass said.
“How’d you figure that out?” Lance asked, returning her barb from earlier.
Cass moved left, stepping away from the side street before Emmett’s pursuer burst outside and spotted her. Lance cut right, heading for the next building on the far side of the street. They took positions on either side of the road, peeking around corners.
Emmett kept running, his labored breathing audible from a block away. Blood soaked his shirt and pants, covered his hands. Rain pattered his bald head.
Lance dropped to a knee and aimed down the street, past Emmett. Cass would have done the same, but she wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to stand up afterward. Instead, she settled with propping her rifle against the side of the arena to steady her aim.
A Bandit stumbled out of the door a moment later.
He gave the backpack a kick, launching into the street.
When he spotted Emmett running away, he called out for him to stop.
Cass’ finger tightened on the trigger as she watched the Bandit raise a rifle and aim at Emmett’s back. As she was about to fire, Lance’s gun barked.
The Bandit jerked, staggering back a step, folding at the waist.
His rifle clattered to the sidewalk.
Lance was already sprinting down the side of the building by the time Cass managed to limp around the corner.
“Stay here and cover the front, Cass,” Lance said as he ran toward Emmett. “How many are there, Doc?”
“One for sure, but there could be more.” Emmett stopped and leaned over, hands on his knees, chest heaving. “I had to leave Greg inside. I—”
“We’ll get him.” Lance ran past him, heading for the Bandit. “Stay with Cass and give me a yell if someone comes out the front.”
Cass repositioned herself so she could watch the main entrance of the arena. The idea of Lance going down to the Bandit by himself gave her pause, but she understood his reasoning. Covering as many angles as possible would keep someone from sneaking up on them.
Emmett nodded at Lance, but stayed where he was for a few seconds, gulping in air like someone who’d just finished a marathon. The amount of blood covering his clothes concerned Cass more than the wounded man mewling on the sidewalk. If it belonged to Greg, then their friend was in even more trouble than she’d feared.
The gut-shot Bandit rolled on his side, hands cradling his stomach. A keening wail escaped him as he curled in on himself. Cass couldn’t see the severity of the wound, but knew that a gut shot would prove fatal.
An ambulance wouldn’t arrive to take him to surgery.
Lance didn’t check on the Bandit as he ran past him, but hid beside the open door, his back flat against the wall. The butt of his rifle was jammed against his shoulder, pointing to the sidewalk.
The rain intensified as Cass flicked her gaze from the front of the arena to her husband. It magnified from a slow drizzle to a torrential downpour in a matter of seconds, soaking her clothes.
A chill shook her as she readjusted her grip on the rifle.
Emmett finally stood. Pushed away from the wall. An unsure stride carried him to her, his chest heaving with each breath. “Are the two of you okay?”
“Lance jumped out a window and landed on a car. We’re fine otherwise.”
“I’m afraid to ask what happened.”
“He fought one of his idols from the nineties to the death.” Cass inspected him as he stopped beside her. “Where’s Greg?”
“I had to leave him hidden inside. He kept losing consciousness, and I couldn’t carry him fast enough to get away from those guys.” The rain washed the blood from Emmett’s arms. It dribbled to the concrete, diluting in a growing pool of water. “I didn’t want to leave him behind, but—”
“You did the right thing.” Cass put a hand on his shoulder, holding his gaze for a moment. “You led them away from him. As soon as we get the second guy, we’ll find Greg.”
Emmett glanced down, unable to look her in the eyes. “I hid him under one of those fighting cages they used in the UFC. It’s the only place I could get him to before they found us.”
Cass checked the front of the arena in time to see the muzzle flare of a rifle pointed at her.
A Bandit stood beside a pole holding up streetlights.
He fired off several shots.
Bullets hit the brick wall beside Cass’ face.
Pebbles of brick stabbed her cheeks and forehead, missing her eyes by millimeters. She jerked her head back, lunging behind the corner. Panic struck her as she reached for her face, in shock from how close the bullets had hit.
Her fingertips came away bloody as she touched her cheeks.
She blinked a few times, making sure her eyes hadn’t taken any damage. The fear gripping her intensified as her vision blurred from rain and blood. After several seconds of lowering her head, of clearing her eyes, she could see again.
Relief bit back the panic.
“Stay behind me,” Cass said to Emmett as she peeked around the corner.
>
The Bandit hadn’t moved. The pole he’d taken cover behind only protected half his body. One shoulder and leg and half his chest were visible from behind the rusted metal.
He fired again.
She jerked out of sight.
Bullets tore away the bricks in the corner, knocking away chunks that crumbled to the sidewalk.
Cass checked on Lance, saw him working his way to her. She waved him back, gave him a thumbs-up. Judging from his worried expression, she figured the blood running down her face looked worse than it felt.
Lance moved to the door, but watched her as she turned her attention to the corner.
She said, “He’s got us pinned down here, but he can’t move closer either. We’ve got a standoff going.”
“What do we do?” Emmett asked.
“No idea.” Cass stuck her rifle around the corner, blindly firing at the Bandit.
She knew there wasn’t a chance she would hit the bastard, but she wanted to keep him on the defensive. As she pulled the gun back, the Bandit returned fire, tearing more hunks of brick from the wall.
He’d fired a lot of rounds already. Cass wondered how many he had left. She hadn’t noticed a bag or a satchel on him, so he might not have more than an extra magazine or two. Then again, she didn’t have any either.
“Uhh, Cass?” Emmett asked.
“What?”
“Lance is gone.”
19
Lance had no idea what to do as he watched bullets rip away at the wall beside his wife’s face. His first instinct was to run down the street to help her. But there was another Bandit inside the arena who could pop out at any moment and shoot them in the back.
How many men did Higgins have?
He tried to think back to when Cass and the others had been taken, but couldn’t remember how many men were in the back of their truck. Ten? Less?
They’d already taken out several.
With any luck, the Bandits might run out of ex-cons soon.
Lance watched as Cass fired blindly around the corner.
Fought the urge to run to her.
The wounded Bandit at his feet stopped writhing around. Lance had expected the guy to die, but the speed of it surprised him. He must have hit something vital.
