by Lukens, Mark
“Is everything all right, Ray?” Emma asked. She had the wooden cane Josh had carved for her in one hand, the tip of it lightly touching the ground.
Emma knew. She knew something was wrong.
“He’s coming soon,” Ray said. “He’s just checking the house.”
“Why would you come back out here if the house wasn’t checked?” Luke asked. He winced as he asked the question, but there was a dangerous edge to his voice.
“He was right behind me,” Ray said. “He was supposed to be.” He looked at Luke, reaching a hand out to him. “Come on, we need to get you inside so we can look at your leg.”
Luke hesitated.
“Ray,” Emma whispered. “What is it?”
“There’s someone in the house,” Ray whispered at them. His skin tingled; he felt like a laser beam from a rifle was fixed on him, the man about to shoot at any second. Or even worse, that he’d hear a gunshot from inside the house.
Emma inhaled a sharp breath. “Josh?” she asked.
“He’s in there too. The man has a gun on him. He’s waiting for all of us to get back in there.”
CHAPTER 46
Ray
It had only taken a few seconds to make their plans. Ray knew once Luke knew someone was inside the house he would want to take his gun inside; he wasn’t going in there defenseless. But Emma wasn’t as onboard with the plan as Luke was.
“If we don’t do this, that guy, whoever he is, could be waiting until we’re all inside, waiting until he gets all of us together,” Luke said. “Right now, he can’t do that. We could leave or we could come at him from different directions.”
Emma was worried about Josh, Ray understood that. But if this man was going to kill all of them, then Josh was as good as dead either way.
For just a few seconds the thought of jumping into the van with the others and driving away had occurred to Ray. It would have been easy. He could have made some excuse about moving the van around the side of the house so it would be hidden better from the view of the road, and then he could have gunned the engine, sped down the driveway. But Emma, and probably Mike, would have been devastated, maybe inconsolable. And there was one other reason, a reason Ray didn’t even want to admit. Emma’s words kept coming back to him: They needed to be together. They were together for a reason. There was no denying that Emma had some kind of psychic powers, even if she didn’t fully understand them or have full control of them, so maybe it was true, maybe they belonged together.
Luke tucked his pistol inside of his hoodie, holstering it there. Ray could smell Luke’s blood, his sour breath, the sweat coming from him.
“We act natural,” Luke said, his words barely a whisper, so low Ray wasn’t sure Emma could even hear them now. “We wait until I can get a good shot. You have your flashlight ready to spot him, Ray. Just like you did in the trailer.”
Ray helped him to the front porch, Luke’s arm around his shoulders. Mike helped Emma, but she had her cane and didn’t need much help; she navigated the darkness as well as they did, or maybe even a little better right now. Ray carried one of the packs over his shoulder and Mike carried another one.
This was it.
They climbed the front porch. Ray and Luke went in through the door first. If the man was going to shoot, Ray wanted Emma and Mike behind him and Luke, he wanted Luke to have a chance at killing the man first. Ray had his flashlight ready. He wasn’t sure exactly where the man was inside the house, but he’d given Luke a rough guess, unless the man had moved in that time.
Luke hobbled, breathing hard as Ray helped him inside. Luke babbled, making more noise than necessary, playing up his injury. Ray helped him into the living room, holding his arm, muscles tense beneath his hoodie, coiled and ready to strike.
“Ray. Luke.”
Ray and Luke froze. It was Josh. Ray shined his flashlight beam at Josh, who stood fifteen feet away, at the other end of the living room, his shotgun in his hands. A few feet behind Josh stood a man deeper in the shadows.
“Don’t shoot,” Josh said. “This man’s name is Gil. He’s the only one in the house. He doesn’t mean us any harm.”
“He aimed a gun at us,” Ray said.
“He was scared. Any one of us would have done the same.”
Ray felt Luke tensing even more under his hand.
“Luke,” Josh said. “Don’t. This man can help you with your leg.”
“He’s a doctor?” Ray asked.
“He was a veterinarian. He can probably do better than any of us can.”
Gil stepped forward into the weak beam of light from Ray’s flashlight. He was older than Ray had expected, maybe in his late fifties or early sixties, but he was lean and compact; he moved with agile grace. His hair was a little long, but thinning at the top, combed back straight. He had a large mustache and thick stubble, all of it gray. He didn’t have a gun in his hand, and he raised his hands up a little to show that he was unarmed.
“You look like you’re bleeding pretty bad there, Luke,” Gil said.
Emma and Mike came inside the house.
Ray let Luke go and turned around. “I told you to wait outside for a minute.”
“He’s no danger to us,” Emma said.
She could hear it in Gil’s voice, Ray thought.
“Ray, you and Mike go and get the other stuff from the van,” Emma said. “Josh, you get Luke on the floor, get another flashlight so this man can see what he’s doing.” She looked at Gil like she knew exactly where he was. “Sir, I hope you can help Luke. We have some medical supplies. I hope we have what you need.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Gil said.
Ray nodded at Mike and they left the house.
“Who’s that guy in there?” Mike asked when they got to the van.
“He’s a survivor. Like us.”
“He pointed a gun at you,” Mike said. “Didn’t he?”
“Yes. He didn’t know us yet. He was scared. We’re all scared.”
Ray handed the last pack to Mike from the van and then grabbed the ammo box and the M-16, handling it gingerly. He still wasn’t comfortable with firearms.
“You think Luke will be okay?” Mike asked.
“Lower your voice a little, Mike.” Ray looked around at the darkness, listening for any sounds coming from the distance. The cold moonlight shined down but only revealed so much.
Mike stared at Ray, waiting for an answer.
“I think so, Mike. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
Mike didn’t ask anything else as he followed Ray up the front porch to the front door. They went inside and closed the door, locking it. Ray set the pack down with the other packs. Josh was already going through the packs, pulling out the medical supplies they had with them.
Luke lay on the floor, his head propped up a little with an extra jacket. His hoodie, shoulder holster, gloves, and pants were off, heaped up on the floor in a pile a few feet away. His lower right leg was a bloody mess.
“Someone should keep watch outside,” Luke said. “Listen for the rippers. Make sure they aren’t getting close.”
“I’ll do it,” Ray said. He looked at Mike. “You want to help me?”
Mike’s face lit up. “Yeah.”
Gil organized the medical supplies on a rolled-out towel, looking over what he would need. Josh was nearby to help him. Ray closed the door on them. He and Mike went to the edge of the front porch and sat down on the steps beside each other. Ray had his flashlight with him, but it was turned off. He had his handgun on the step beside him, and he had Luke’s binoculars.
“You cold?” Ray asked.
“No.”
“If it’s too cold—”
“I’m okay.”
Ray sat in silence for a long moment, listening to the night sounds: the freezing wind blowing through dead and dying leaves, a small creature rutting through the brush. Ray was glad Mike was with him, glad he was still alive and still okay. He was also glad Mike wasn’t inside watching Gil treat Luke’
s leg, most likely sewing it up, or, God forbid, cutting it off.
“Mike.”
He turned to him, his face barely visible in the darkness.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m really proud of you. You’ve been so brave, so strong through all of this. I know things haven’t been easy, but I believe one day they will be easier than this. I can feel it.”
“I can feel it too, Dad.”
“As soon as we get settled again, in a safe place, we’ll teach you how to drive. Luke will teach you how to shoot.”
“And how to fight.”
“I’m sure he will.” Ray put his arm around his son, tears threatening, but he held them back. He didn’t want Mike to see him cry, he still wanted to be strong for his son.
PART THREE
CHAPTER 47
Luke
The last hours (or was it longer than that?) seemed to both stretch out and go by in a blur for Luke. The pain in his leg from where the ripper had stabbed him wasn’t so bad, and he took that as a good sign. He felt weak, his body cold, his mind light. His thoughts were a little scattered, like he was on the verge of falling asleep, already dreaming. For just a moment he didn’t know where he was or who the people were around him.
A house. I’m in an abandoned house. I’m with Ray. And his son. With Josh and Emma. And another man. A doctor? No, they said he was a veterinarian. He was bending down over my leg, cleaning the wound, inspecting it. Josh gave me something . . . some kind of pill. One of his pain pills. Maybe more than one.
Luke was glad Gil the veterinarian wasn’t a threat. He’d been ready to shoot the man as soon as they’d entered the house, but Josh had stopped him. Josh had talked to the old man, letting him know that they weren’t a threat to each other.
He felt like he was floating. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should be on guard. Even though Gil turned out to be okay, there were still threats out there beyond the walls of this house. There were rippers out there. And there were Dark Angels. The Dragon.
But it felt safe in the house for the moment, even though he teetered on the edge of consciousness. He would normally feel a sense of panic, of a loss of control, but he felt okay now, at peace.
His mind slipped away and he floated in the darkness. The house and everyone around him was gone. But he wasn’t alone. Someone was in the dark with him.
“Wilma,” he breathed out.
She walked toward him, materializing out of the darkness, illuminated by a soft light coming from somewhere above in the darkness. She was still ten feet away.
Luke ran up to her, grabbed her, holding her arms, feeling them, making sure she was real. And she was. He could feel the heat of her body, the sleeves of her shirt under his hands, the faint scent of shampoo in her hair.
“Luke,” she said into his shoulder as he hugged her fiercely. “You have to come save me. We all need to be together.”
“Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you. No matter where you are, I’ll come get you.”
He pulled away from her to hear her answer.
But it wasn’t Wilma anymore. It was another woman. She was shorter than Wilma, but just as strong and beautiful in her own way. Her hair was dark and short, her skin a caramel color with edges of tattoos peeking up from the collars of her shirts. Her body was taut and muscular, her eyes steady and confident and dark.
Yes, the woman was strong and confident, but she was also worried. Scared.
Luke wanted to ask who she was, but somewhere deep down inside he knew she was part of them, part of Emma and Ray and Josh and Mike. He wanted Wilma back, but he didn’t lash out at this woman because he knew she hadn’t been the one who had taken Wilma away.
“Tell them to come get me,” the woman said. “Tell them to kill the Dragon.”
A noise sounded behind Luke in the darkness. He turned and saw a shadowy figure twenty yards away, tall and lean, face hidden by a cowl, eyes that shined a dull yellow.
The Dragon.
Luke looked back at the woman. She was gone.
He turned back around. The Dragon was closer now, covering half the distance between them in that second he’d been turned away, moving soundlessly toward him.
Luke could see the Dragon better now, but it wasn’t the Dragon anymore. He wasn’t wearing a hood and his eyes weren’t glowing. Now that the man was closer, Luke could see him better. It was Jacob.
“You come after her and I’ll be waiting for you, Luke.”
Luke didn’t answer.
“You know where I’ll be,” Jacob said, smiling. “You know I’ll be in the house waiting for you.”
Luke still didn’t say anything. He looked down at the gun in Jacob’s hand, the silencer attached to the barrel, just like his own weapon. He watched as Jacob raised the gun, aimed it at him, and pulled the trigger. There was a bright flash of light . . .
Luke’s eyes popped open.
It was light in the house. He could see the splotchy, stained ceiling of the living room. He was still lying on the floor, the folded-up hoodie under his head like a pillow. It was cold and the pain flared in his leg when he moved just a little, a sharp pain, but then a dull ache under that.
The pain was a good sign, wasn’t it? That meant he still had his leg, right?
He was afraid to look.
Footsteps, soft and cautious.
He turned his head. Emma crouched down next to him. She reached out, touched his forehead, checking for a fever. Her hand felt so cold.
“Where . . .” He tried to talk. His throat was so dry. “Where is everyone?”
“Still asleep. Ray and Mike stayed outside all night on watch. Josh took over this morning.”
“My leg?”
“Gil sewed up the wound. Bandaged it. He said he thinks you’ll be fine. We had some antibiotics. Gave you one last night.”
Luke couldn’t remember that.
She pulled her hand away from his forehead. “You’re still pretty warm, but I think your fever’s breaking.”
Luke shivered, his body shaking with the cold. He wanted to sit up, but he felt so weak.
Ray was beside him in a flash. He looked tired. “You okay, Luke?”
Luke nodded.
“We probably should get on the road soon,” Ray said. “That horde of rippers might make it here eventually. I can’t believe we haven’t seen or heard any yet.”
“Yeah,” Luke whispered.
“We’ll eat something first,” Ray said. “Real quick. And then we’ll get going.”
Someone else was coming over. Luke stared up at Gil. He got a better look at the man in the morning light. The man looked older and more tired than Luke remembered, frail but capable of explosive power if he needed it.
“You feeling okay?” Gil asked in his deep southern drawl.
“Yeah. Thank you.” Luke looked at Ray, then at Emma. “What did Josh give me? One of those pain pills?”
Emma and Ray nodded.
“I don’t want any more of those.”
“Some Tylenol or ibuprofen,” Gil suggested.
“How’d you get here to this house?” Luke asked Gil.
Gil and Ray exchanged glances. Luke could tell these things had already been discussed.
“I drove,” Gil said. “My truck is around back. Hidden behind the house.”
“Your truck still runs?” Luke asked.
Gil nodded.
“Gas?”
Gil nodded again.
“We asked him to come with us,” Ray said. He looked at Emma.
Luke looked at Emma.
“He’s on his own,” she said. “We’ll all be stronger together.”
“I’m not a Dark Angel,” Gil said. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”
Luke remembered Rose, how she had infiltrated their cabin, a spy for the Dark Angels. But this was the other way around—they had found Gil; he hadn’t come to them.
Ray and Gil left to get the food from the packs. Emma and Luke were a
lone. He sat up, looking at Emma. She waited like she knew he had something to tell her.
“Last night,” Luke whispered. “Last night I was dreaming. I saw Wilma. I haven’t seen her since . . .”
She nodded. She understood.
“But then there was this other woman in the dream. I felt like I knew her, like I’d seen her in another dream before. I know it doesn’t make any sense. She said I needed to find her, that we needed to kill the Dragon. That we all needed to be together.”
Emma didn’t say anything.
“And then I saw the Dragon. When I turned around the woman was gone, but the Dragon was there.” Luke didn’t say any more than that. He didn’t want to tell Emma that he’d seen Jacob in his dream.
Emma waited patiently for him to continue.
“I need to find her,” Luke said more to himself than to Emma. “She’s in trouble, and I need to find her.”
Ray and Gil came back with a few bottles of water, cans of food, and the can opener. Josh came inside as Mike woke up. They all gathered around Luke, all of them eating quickly and silently.
CHAPTER 48
Ray
Ray left Josh, Mike, and Emma in the house with Luke. Josh was getting the packs ready so they could leave.
As Ray walked toward the van Gil pulled his pickup truck from around from the back of the house, parking it right next to the van, both of the vehicles facing toward the driveway that led back down to the road. His truck was a late-nineties Ford F-150, red and white, the red paint faded so badly it almost looked pink in the yellowish morning light. The truck was full of dents and scratches, the windshield cracked in two places, a big hole in the back window where a gun rack held two rifles. The bed had a metal tool box bolted to it and two extra tires. The truck was big and had a lift kit on it. Bloodstains along the grill of the truck were old and brown now, with more smears of blood down the sides of the truck from where Gil had struck rippers before, running them down in the street.
“You can follow us if you want to,” Ray said.
