Nick tousled Corey’s hair. It was true that Corey was becoming more of a man by the day. He’d helped them defend the compound, doing what was needful to keep the bad guys out of the main house. And now he was working alongside Nick, helping them to make the place even more secure.
But all that work would be for nothing if that bandit town had found them. Their attack would be many times worse than the last. He’d had to convince Abram to go to Burnsville with Owen and Frank. Despite the danger out on the road, the danger of being left in the dark would be far worse. They needed answers, ones he hoped they’d find in Burnsville if Frank could put his differences aside, as devastating as those differences were. Frank’s son-in-law, Kent Brockman, might be the key to their survival, but only if Frank’s pride didn’t kill their one chance—and probably all of them with it.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” Corey interrupted Nick’s thoughts, peering at him with concern etched onto his face.
Nick quickly forced a neutral expression. “Nothing worth troubling you over, Core.”
Corey gave a look, as if he didn’t quite buy his dad’s response, but then nodded, letting it go.
Nick wanted to tell his son. He was an adult now, in Nick’s eyes, and he should know what was going on. But Abram’s words echoed in his mind. Let’s keep this hush-hush for now—no need to start a panic here.
“What you do need to worry about is sleep. You better get back to bed. We have to be up in a couple hours to see the expedition off.”
“Okay. Though, it’d be cool if we could sleep in till six o’clock one morning.” Corey handed the photo back and rose from the couch. “Love you, Dad. You need sleep, too. You got bags under your eyes.”
“Love you, too. And leave my bags alone.” He forced a wan smile for his son’s benefit.
Corey paused at the threshold and looked back over his shoulder. “Dad…”
“Yeah?” Nick felt a smile creep up for his son, who was strong and getting stronger every day, as well as smart, too. He only needed wisdom to temper an intelligence that could get the boy in trouble at times. But best of all, he had a kind heart. He could easily become the man Nick wished he were. That would be a very good thing.
Corey hesitated, but then smiled back. “I just wanted you to know, I won’t ever forget how you rescued Rae Ann. No one else will forget it, either. I really hope I can be like you when I grow up.”
With that, he turned and continued through the kitchen, heading for his bedroom.
Watching Corey leave, Nick sucked in the cool night air, then let it out slowly. The boy—no, young man—was already a better man than he knew, and Nick wished he could find the words to tell his son.
No, he definitely didn’t want to add a heap of worries to his son’s plate. Corey worried enough for the both of them; he didn’t need more of it over things he had no control over.
No need to start a panic. Good advice. Though, as Nick sat there alone with his uneasy thoughts, all he could feel was panic. It lurked in the back of his mind like a shadow that wouldn’t go away. Something was brewing out there, beyond the safety of their compound, and they had no idea what. Whatever it was, it would come for them sooner or later, and then it would be too late.
He would have to change that, one way or another, and soon. In a few hours, he’d be with everyone else, seeing Abram, Owen, and Frank off on their journey. If they succeeded, it would be a damn fine start to making that change happen.
8
As the sun peeked out from the easterly horizon, Gary and the man he only knew as “Black” broke down camp, ensuring no trace of their presence remained. They’d filled in the Dakota fire hole, broken down the lean-to, and scattered any remnants into the brush. Now, they were heading toward the town Black had mentioned—Gary couldn’t wait to get a glimpse of the place.
Sucking in air as he walked, he focused all his efforts on trudging ahead. It was going to be another long day. Too bad he hadn’t slept a wink the previous night; though he did lie down in the lean-to Black had fashioned, he didn’t dare fall asleep. The man he was with was a cipher, and though Gary had pretended to sleep, he’d kept an eye on his companion, noting the several times he used a Ka-Bar to clean under his fingernails while staring over in Gary’s general direction.
Still, Gary was intrigued by what they had discussed. If he hadn’t been mistaken, the man desired to build something from the solar flare’s wreckage. Perhaps he could piggyback off of Black’s efforts, using the newfound resources and manpower to take back the compound. Recruiting people by himself would be tedious, and rife with trial and error. But if he were a part of an “established” team, they could set the rules, ensuring that those they allowed to join followed them to a T. Certainly, joining Black would not create an established team overnight, though as long as they created the illusion that this wasn’t their first rodeo, building a group of loyal followers would be a cinch.
Gary glanced at Black. “How much farther?”
“Shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“We’ve been walking for three hours. I thought you said it was nearby.”
Black slowed his pace, pointing off toward a clearing. A two-story farmhouse was nestled beyond, and Gary could see a gravel road running past it. “Let’s check it out—we can take a break if you need it.”
Gary nodded. He needed to recharge his batteries.
They headed toward the clearing, but before walking out into it, Black put up his hand and they came to a halt. They crouched behind thick brush and waited.
Black’s voice was low. “I don’t see anyone. Do you?”
“Nope.”
“Give it another few minutes.”
“Okay.”
Gary stared at the farmhouse, but there were no signs of life. Just overgrown grass, weeds, and a rusty old car, several decades past its prime. After a few minutes, Black motioned for him to follow. They skirted the clearing, checking to either side for life, but none could be seen. Then, when they were about twenty yards from the house, a gruff male voice came from one of the broken windows.
“Keep looking,” the voice called out.
“There’s nothing here, man.” The second man’s voice sounded younger, higher in pitch.
Black found concealment behind a rusty car, and Gary joined him, moving deliberately so as to avoid scuffing the car or making some other noise that might alert the two men inside. His heart pounded in his chest, and he strained his ears to listen.
The gruff voice was louder, now that they had moved closer. “Remember, your family…”
“We already have enough supplies, Chad.”
“You know damn well ‘enough’ is never enough. Just be glad we’re looting abandoned buildings a couple miles outside town and not out on that damn raiding mission.”
“How many more times do you think we’ll get out of going on those?”
“I don’t know, but you know as well as I do that he needs a steady flow of goods going into Clarks Crossing. And I think he has a big raid planned for Nettletown soon. I doubt we’ll get out of it the next time. He’s never satisfied with what he’s already got.”
Gary leaned closer to Black. “Clarks Crossing? You ever heard of it?”
Black flashed a smile and nodded. “That’s the place I mentioned earlier.”
“Want to go talk to these guys?”
Black’s face turned serious. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? We could get some intel.”
“It’s all about mathematics. If these two fellows didn’t happen to get back to Clarks Crossing, then there would be two open spots needing to be filled. And we’re two men who wouldn’t mind going on a raiding mission, unlike these guys, apparently.”
“Are you saying…”
“Kill ’em.”
Gary’s lips flatlined. Though he’d killed a man the previous day, it was out of pure self-defense. It was only the second person he’d ever killed, after his pre-emptive self-de
fense at Hammel’s Grocery in Fenton. But was killing these men really the best option? They didn’t even know he and Black were there. They were no threat.
Then again, if he wanted the resources necessary to take the compound from Abram’s inept leadership, then this would be a start. Up to this point, he’d just been a loner on the road. In order to achieve his goals, he would have to break out of his comfort zone. He’d already started on that path by joining up with this “Black” fellow. Now, he had the chance to take the next step and become a part of something bigger. Being on a winning team was a damn fine start.
“Okay.” Gary’s voice came out low. He didn’t want Black to catch any tremor in his voice.
“We should do this before they leave—it’ll be easier if we catch them unawares, coming through one of the doors leading out of the house.”
Gary nodded. Doorways were choke points and natural kill zones. He and Black would be able to see these two coming out, knowing exactly where they would appear, while those two men inside had no idea what lay beyond each exit—or that there even was an enemy outside the house, lying in wait.
Black motioned to the structure. “Let’s get up alongside it, then we’ll listen to see which exit they’re heading toward.”
Gary nodded, then followed Black out from behind their hiding spot, staying crouched down as he rushed toward the house. Under an open window, he waited.
Then, a voice from inside. “Nothing else in here, man. Let’s go.” Footsteps headed toward the front door.
Gary unholstered his .45, noticing that Black had opted for the Ka-Bar.
Black regarded Gary. “We need to keep one alive.”
“For more intel?”
“Bingo. Go to the front door and ambush the first one that comes out. I’ll set up a point ambush at the back.”
Gary nodded, breaking away from Black and toward the front door. He crept up the few steps leading to the porch. A board creaked beneath his foot and he stopped. Had they heard him?
He remained motionless a long moment, then continued on, careful about his footing. Alongside the front entrance, he waited. Hopefully Black was in position. He glanced at the front entryway—there was a simple screen door, and further in, the wooden front entry was ajar only inches.
Footsteps approached, and he raised his pistol.
The screen door opened slightly.
A moment passed.
No movement.
What were these men doing?
Surely, they were smart enough not to stroll through the doorway blind, though the screen door was an awkward obstacle that would slow them down. It was the type that swung back against the door frame, and that simple detail would put things further in Gary’s favor.
Another moment passed, and he saw the barrel of a rifle pushing the screen door open a little more. Sooner or later, they’d have to make their move.
“I think it’s clear,” came a hushed voice, and the corners of Gary’s mouth ticked upward.
The leading man hesitated a few seconds longer, then Gary caught sight of his head coming through the threshold, his shoulder pressed on the screen.
Gary aimed and pulled the trigger.
Pop!
Blood splattered on the jamb, and the second man scampered back through the house. Pounding boots on the hardwood floor grew softer as the man retreated toward the back door.
He waited there until he heard a howling scream from the rear of the house, and he followed the moaning to find Black over the wounded man, his firearm cast aside, out of reach. Gary retrieved the man’s pistol.
“Please,” the man whimpered, voice high pitched, gripping a wound on his belly. “Don’t…don’t kill me.”
Black loomed over the man, holding his blood-soaked knife in his hand. “Tell us about your town and we’ll get you fixed up quick.”
The man grimaced, clearly struggling to retain his consciousness. He pressed his wound, and blood soaked his gray shirt.
Black flicked the knife under the man’s chin, poking it into his Adam’s apple. “Tell me.”
The man swallowed hard. “Clarks Crossing. It’s a mile due north.”
“Who runs the town?”
“I…I just wanted to help protect my daughter and—”
Black pressed the knife tip into the man’s jugular. “Who is in charge?”
The man’s eyes grew wide. “Wyatt Weston.”
“And does this Wyatt fellow have any family in Clarks Crossing, or are they still…out there, somewhere?”
“No family in town, but…I…I…”
“Spit it out, cowboy.”
“I heard they have a search and rescue party down south in the Green Mountain National Forest. For his daughter, Brooke—I think that’s her name. She was camping with her boyfriend when the lights went out. Hasn’t heard from her since.”
A grin spread across Black’s face. “Thanks, friend. That’s some mighty fine information.” With that, Black rose and handed the knife to Gary. “I’m not greedy. You can do the honors…”
The man’s eyes widened at Black’s words. “But…but you said—”
Black spun around and peered down at the man. “You’re learning your final lesson in life—what a person says and what they do are two entirely different things.”
Gary eyed the man, noting the fear that was bubbling up. He ceased pressing on his wound and used the energy to inch away from Gary.
Black nodded at Gary, the non-verbal cue obvious. Take care of him.
Part of Gary wanted to turn the knife on Black. People like this—those who seemed to get off on killing—shouldn’t be left alive. He was dangerous. A psychopath, perhaps. Maybe Gary should simply kill Black and be on his way, forgetting about Clarks Crossing and this Wyatt fellow. Or maybe he should go to Clarks Crossing on his own, without Black.
But something inside Gary made him take pause. The way Black looked at him was the same as when he’d first met him. That look of respect, like he knew what Gary was made of. Knew his true value. What did Black see that Gary didn’t?
Resolve. Black had to see that Gary would do what it took to survive, or he would never have joined up with him. If only Abram had the foresight to do what was needful and had respected Gary, and his methods for keeping the compound safe, things would have gone differently—those bandits would never have attacked them once word had gotten out that they weren’t to be messed with…
And there it was. The answer. Sometimes, a man in this new world would have to kill now to keep things safe and sane later. Killing this man would smooth out Gary’s path to power, and once in charge, he and Black could make sure they did what they must to stay at the top of the pyramid. Only there could he make sure his people stayed alive.
And damn anyone who stood in the way of that goal…
Gary nodded back at Black, deciding that carrying out this act of solidarity was pragmatic.
Looming over the bleeding man, who barely had the energy to return his gaze, Gary stepped around behind him, crouched down, and brought the blade to his neck.
“Please,” came the man’s plea. “You don’t have to do this…”
“But I do.” In one fluid motion, Gary sliced the man’s neck wide open, giving way to the familiar sound of a flooded-out scream.
He let the man slump over, twitching slightly as the life flowed from him. His blood-drenched hand still held the knife.
Black stepped over to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done. Grim, but necessary.”
Gary was on the verge of vomiting, but he held the bile down. Black’s eyes bore a hole into him, and Gary met his gaze for a moment, then cast a glance downward. He was afraid that Black would see the guilt in his eyes—he didn’t want to give himself away.
Realizing his mistake, Gary returned Black’s gaze, locked eyes, and held it for a few moments, trying to save face. Had the man noticed his submissive behavior? He surely hoped not. But Black gave no sign that he’d noticed, still wearing
that “proud papa” expression.
Oddly, Gary realized, killing the man hadn’t been quite as horrible as he’d feared. It was needful—that was what made it possible for him to do it. Still, he hoped the next time it’d be easier.
Palmer stared at the man whose name he didn’t yet know, though he did know one thing: This guy would make a great right-hand man. He’d carried out Palmer’s orders with no fuss about ethics or anything else that wasn’t expedient. Not only that, the man was barely able to meet Palmer’s gaze, even once glancing down at the ground. Yes, this man would be quite the obedient pit bull.
“Due north,” Palmer said, motioning. “Let’s go.”
His new right-hand man crouched down, patting the dead man’s pockets, and pulled out a few supplies—a Leatherman multi-tool and a packaged granola bar. He held the multi-tool up for Palmer to see. “This will make for good barter.”
Palmer nodded. “Good find. Check the other guy.”
“On it.” He headed to the front of the house, leaving Palmer alone.
Palmer pulled out his compass, then turned to face north, taking a few tentative steps in that direction. A moment later, the man returned.
“Find anything?” Palmer asked.
“Nothing of value.”
Palmer shrugged, then glanced back at the crumpled body. “The intel he gave us makes up for it.”
He led the way north, and his companion strode alongside him. “You going to tell me your name yet? We might want to at least know what to call each other, if we’re going to convince them we’re together.”
The man walked in silence for a moment, his boots crunching dry leaves and dead twigs as he went. “Gary.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard, Gary.”
“So, what are your plans for when we get there?”
Palmer dodged a low-hanging branch. “We’ll scope the town out first. See what’s what. Then, we’ll approach them.”
“You mean just walk right up to their gate?”
“Yeah, but we have to do it in a non-threatening way. No guns out, hands where they can see them. We have to look at it from their point of view—they would be wise to be wary of strangers who come a’ knocking, and I think it’s best to assume that they’re prudent. They probably won’t let us in, I mean, not unless they’re a bunch of morons.”
EMP Crisis Series (Book 3): Instant Mayhem Page 6
