“I wish I had one of those cars on this patrol,” the woman said. Her voice was fainter now than the last time she’d spoken.
Corey tried to figure their distance and direction. He had to slide around the tree, slowly and quietly, to keep it between him and them. It sure was nice of them to talk so much on guard duty. It made sneaking past a lot easier! Corey made a mental note of that, for the next time he had guard duty at the compound. He wouldn’t let Emma be so chatty with him on duty anymore. Wow, his dad had been right about that. Nick seemed kind of out of touch with the real world, usually, like the stuff Dad grew up with had anything to do with the world today. Ha! Much less the world after CMEs.
But this one time, regarding talking on patrol, Nick had been right, and it was worth remembering.
When Corey was certain they were far enough away for him to avoid being seen, he moved out from behind the tree and continued on down the road. The driveway he needed would be just two blocks ahead, if he remembered the layout right. Which, of course, he did. He had a mind like a steel trap, his dad always said so. In fact, though he knew his father would be irritated at him for leaving the safety of his overwatch position, or rather, the fallback one they’d planned ahead of time for if he had to actually shoot—like the prisoner from when Dad almost got caught—oh wow, that was another thing his father had been right about! Twice in one day, even. Well, his dad would have to just take Corey’s word for it that following had been the right thing. No doubt, he’d save his dad’s life again before he actually revealed himself, at the rate things had already been going. Dad would listen, and hopefully not yell, but once Corey was there, what could he do about it? Ha. Not a lot, and—
Click-clack.
Corey froze, mid-step, standing between two trees. A gun, being racked, and close by. He didn’t dare turn. He couldn’t, actually, because his feet refused to obey him. He’d wanted to run, relying on his young-man speed to escape whatever this was. Move, damn it.
A familiar voice, male, said, “Stop. Drop the rifle, then turn around slowly and identify yourself.”
A woman’s voice, equally familiar, said, “Drop it, or I drop you, kid. Why are you out after curfew? You know the new rules, right? They’re for all our safety.”
“I…uh…” Corey stammered. He turned his head, careful not to move the rifle barrel with it, as so many hours of practice back home had taught him. It was hard to remember that, and keep track of what they were saying, and try to think of a lie to get out of this. Too much to think about, and adrenaline was making his thoughts jerky and sporadic.
Ugh—so, adrenaline wasn’t all good, after all…
When he turned his head, he saw a man and woman, and though he hadn’t seen their faces well at that distance in just the moon’s light, the weapons they carried had been obvious—a shotgun and some kind of Russian-looking rifle. An AK-47, his addled mind told him.
Abram’s voice drifted through his head, from one of their many training lessons at the compound:
“The AK is a sturdy, reliable weapon. It’s not as accurate as an AR-15, certainly not at the range you can get from a trusty seven-millimeter hunting rifle, but gunfights happen at close range almost every time. Corey, pay attention! The AK is plenty accurate at short ranges, and their bullets are heavy. You do not want to get hit by a 7.62 round, no matter what Rambo suggests.”
Whoever Rambo was…And maybe it was just adrenaline exaggerating things, but damn, that AK-47 barrel aimed at his face sure looked about as wide around as his fist. Suddenly, his vision went black and white, and everything but the man and woman’s faces appeared blacked out, as if his peripheral vision had just decided to go take a vacation. Abram’s lessons had warned about that, too, but Corey had never thought it’d be true. That was for old people, not young men like him.
Damn, today was just a day for other people being right…“I’m not moving,” he heard himself say. “Don’t shoot, man. Chill out.”
The woman’s face turned into a sneer. “Why shouldn’t I shoot? I mean, you’re out after curfew. For all I know, you’re some badass bandit, come to scout our town out. No one could blame us if you caught a bullet to the face. Bad light, late hour…”
“Shut up, Gwen,” the man said. “Look, no one wants to shoot you. But we’ve got to walk you home, and right now. No arguing, kiddo—and expect a demerit tomorrow, come lunch-chit time. It’s the price you pay for breaking curfew. Does your mom even know you’re out?”
“My dad,” Corey said, once again hearing it as if listening to someone else talk.
Shut up! Reveal nothing, you idiot!
The man frowned. “Sorry about your mom. After the CME?”
The woman said, “Of course. Crap was real hard there for a while, especially before Wyatt got us all together.”
He nodded. “Well, it’s a good thing we had Black when Wyatt died, eh? Not as good as Wyatt, but great timing.”
The woman, whom he’d called Gwen, frowned. “Puh-lease. Black’s got us doing what Wyatt should have done in the first place. It’s genius, and we get to reap the rewards.”
“You don’t wonder about him, though?” The man looked at Gwen, with one eyebrow raised.
“Shut up in front of the kid, Thomas. I may know that you’re playing Devil’s Advocate, but the kid here might think you’re serious. Might say something to the wrong someone. Got it?”
“Yep. Devil’s Advocate, that’s all. Okay, kid, enough talk. Let’s get you home. Where do you live?”
“Up that drive,” Corey said. Immediately, he regretted it. Nick’s guide had taken him that way for a reason—either to an ambush, or because it led to Misty’s, or to the road that did go to Misty’s. Now he was stuck going the same direction.
Please, God, not into Dad’s ambush. Corey prayed his dad was okay, and didn’t shoot him in the head when he followed behind his father. Yeah, his dad had to be okay—he had the gun, and the other guy was hurt. As for anyone else’s ambush, his dad would hear them coming and be ready. Corey realized that he could even help his father be ready for it…As he led Thomas and Gwen up the gravel road, he spotted a slightly larger rock, jutting out of the ground, and angled toward it…
When they reached it, he caught the toe of his shoe on the rock, and fell face-first to the dirt, crying out in mock pain and surprise. He “struggled” to roll over onto his backside and clutched his knee, hissing with sharp intakes of breath. “Oh, damn, that hurts. Stupid rock.”
The woman said, “Oh, for crying out loud. Don’t you know your own driveway? Wait a minute…” Her voice trailed off.
The man, Thomas, grinned. “I was wondering when you’d figure out this wasn’t his house. This is Wyatt’s house.”
“Wyatt’s house? But they have a daughter, not a son.” She eyed Corey.
Corey felt the sweat on his palms again. If only he hadn’t given them his rifle…Maybe he could have shot the man by surprise, if he’d moved quickly enough, and the woman he could have easily overpowered, then…But no, he had given in without even fighting. Son of a…
“No shoot, Sherlock,” Thomas said. “You think he’s a spy, after all?”
She kept her eyes locked on Corey. “Naw. Look at him. He’s too old to pull off the helpless, confused kid routine, and not old enough to know his ass from a hole in the ground. He lives here. Just doesn’t want his mom to tan his hide, that’s all. Right, kid?”
Corey felt a confusing mix of fear and anger. He most definitely did too know his butt from a hole in the ground. Hadn’t he just saved his dad’s life? Twice, even. But he caught himself before he let his frustration show too much. Instead, he looked down at the ground. “No, I do live here. Wyatt’s my dad. Misty’s my stepmom. I normally only came for summer visits, but my mom sent me up here when the solar flares got predicted. Before anyone knew they’d be bad. She was just paranoid. Only, this time, she was right. I…I hope she’s okay,” he said, and wiped his eye. In the poor light, how would they ever know hi
s eyes were dry? Ha.
The woman’s eyes narrowed in the low light. She hissed at him, then said, “Big mistake, that lie. Wyatt had a daughter, only. Everyone knows Wyatt’s family inside and out, and it didn’t include a son from some other family.”
Corey had only a split second to decide whether to stick to his story or think of something else, but he wasn’t thinking clearly enough. The idea of making up another lie, just to get caught again, sent a chill up his back. He used that fear to his advantage, though, and put it on full display. “No, I swear! Wyatt’s my dad. He had another family, no one was supposed to talk about it. We lived in Charlotte, in North Carolina, on Peachtree Lane. Small house, two bedrooms. There’s a willow tree in the back, with a swing my dad, Wyatt, put up just for me, ’cause it’s the tire that blew out on our camping trip two summers ago. Go ask my stepmom. That’s God’s honest truth!”
Whatever the lie, it would buy him time. And with Wyatt dead, they’d find only an empty house when they knocked on the door, and then who could call him a liar? Misty was the only one who could say if he was being honest, and Nick was surely in charge of the situation with her by now. They were probably long gone, across the river, with Nick heading…
Heading toward Corey’s sniper position.
Dammit.
Well, Corey would just have to figure out how to get away after he played out this act, this charade, and got these two monkeys off his back.
The man said, “Sure, kid. Fine. Let’s just go ask, shall we? This is Misty’s house, all right. So, you know us, that’s something. See, Gwen? Just a boy out after curfew. Who else would know all that?”
“Yeah…We’ll find out soon enough.” She didn’t raise her rifle but motioned up the driveway with the barrel. “Go, kid. We’ll get to the bottom of this, and you can get home safe and sound to a well-deserved butt whupping, just as soon as we do.”
Corey climbed to his feet, praying so hard that he only remembered at the last minute to limp ever so slightly, just to keep up his story about tripping. Then, he remembered part of his story that could help him. “Okay. Sorry to slow you down, I forgot about that rock, ’cause like I said, I only get to see Dad for a month in the summer, usually. I keep telling him to fix it. Or, I did before…you know.”
“Sorry,” they both said at once. The woman added, “That’s got to be hard on you. If you’re not lying, that is.”
They reached the first bend, when Thomas responded, “If he is, I’m going to whup his ass myself for bringing Wyatt’s good name into this.”
Corey glanced over his shoulder at the man. Even in the moonlight, it was easy to see Thomas had almost a foot on Corey, and a good hundred pounds. Corey shuddered, and despite his best effort to look confident, he couldn’t seem to make his feet take steps. He was gonna get busted, for sure, if this wasn’t the right house—that’d mean they knew it wasn’t the right house and were just baiting him, right?
God, let this be Wyatt’s house.
41
Lowering his rifle’s front sight, Nick felt his cheeks grow warm, probably blushing. Just great, blushing and jumpy in front of Misty. “Sorry. The knocking startled me. Are you expecting someone to bang on your door like the police, at this time of night?”
Misty shrugged. “May I get that, or are you shooting Norman over there while I’m gone?”
Nick found himself smiling at her. “Norman is safe, so long as Norman behaves himself. Because ain’t nobody got time for that.”
She chuckled and headed for the door. “You’re doing it wrong. You gotta get some soul into it, really nail it.”
She opened the door, still looking over her shoulder at Nick—
His eyes went wide. At the door…No. Couldn’t be. But it was. It was Corey. “Oh, damn,” he said, the words coming out softer than a whisper.
An armed man and woman stood behind Corey, with their weapons aimed at his back. Worse, they both looked decidedly un-thrilled to be there with the boy. The woman, in particular, seemed like she might have found killing a child preferable to wasting time on investigating the kid’s claims. For, without a doubt, Nick knew in his bones that Corey had talked himself into this damned situation—and dragged Nick into it with him.
It was a damn good thing parents loved their children so much, Nick decided, or none of them would ever survive adolescence.
“What the hell is going on?” Nick said from the side of his mouth, to Misty.
“My thought, too,” she replied.
Then, to the man and woman shoving rifle barrels into Corey’s back, she said in a demanding tone that dripped more confidence than Nick could imagine at that moment, “Explain yourselves. And make it fast, ’cause you’re on my time.”
Nick watched, impotent to do anything about the situation, and prayed his son survived, even if he didn’t. His life for his son’s would be a worthwhile trade. He begged God to make a deal, and hoped someone was listening.
The woman, Gwen, said from behind Corey, “Misty, this boy says he’s Wyatt’s kid.”
Corey stared at his father, silently pleading for rescue. This had gone bad, really fast, and now he had two guns in his back and his life hung on the reply of a woman who had never even met him. He was about to die, his gut told him with absolute certainty.
Nick said, “Oh look, Misty, it’s Corey. You didn’t tell me he was in town.”
Misty looked at Nick for two long seconds, then smiled at the town guards standing behind Corey. “He’s more what they call a ‘dirty-sock relative.’ He’s fine, you can let him go.”
Corey breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to live. So, this was the Misty they were after, eh? She sure was pretty, but even better, she had probably just saved his life, without even knowing the whats and whys of the situation. Only a good person would have done that, in this day and age.
Gwen said, “Well, that’s that. Get inside, kid, and don’t be wandering around town again, or I’ll write your butt up, even if you are Wyatt’s dirty-sock kid.”
Corey didn’t have to be told twice. He rushed to Nick—then stopped himself and positioned himself between Nick and Misty, closer to her. Had to keep the story up…
Thomas stepped inside, smiling at Misty—and froze when he spotted some dude, off to one side, with blood all over his face, at about the same time Corey saw the guy.
He looked from Misty to Nick, and his eyes narrowed, though his rifle barrel stayed down, at the ready but not covering anyone in particular. “What the hell, Misty? You beating up guards now?” He turned to the bloodied guy. “Norm, what happened?”
The guy called Norm wore a smile and eyes held wide open, and his gaze flicked back and forth between Thomas and Nick. “No, it’s all good. I tripped, that’s all. You know how clumsy I am,” he replied, his words slightly muffled from his swollen jaw and chin.
Gwen said, “Come on, Thomas. We got rounds to do, and he says he’ll be fine. Norm, get that looked at. You’re an idiot.” She began to turn toward the door.
Thomas caught her with his left hand, though, stopping her. His eyes stayed on Nick as he asked, “Norman, where’s your partner? Why did you come all the way here, instead of just going to Doc’s? And Misty, who is this dude?”
Misty didn’t hesitate. “My house was closer. This is a friend of mine. He’s one of the Indentureds, out on the farm-fringe, but I’m thinking of buying out his contract. We were just about to clean Norm up, when you all showed up. Thanks for bringing the kid in; I was starting to worry.”
Thomas paused, looking back and forth between them all.
Corey felt his heart pounding in his chest, and felt like he was walking around naked without his rifle. If this went bad, he’d be defenseless, and from where he stood, he couldn’t see any real cover to hide behind. Maybe the kitchen had a door out, if he had to find an escape route in a hurry. His mind raced, scenarios running through his head.
Please, buy this crap…
Just as Thomas opened his mouth t
o speak, Gwen shrugged his hand off her arm. “Jeez, Thomas. You can’t just go around interrogating Misty, man. You think she’d lie to protect some kid she didn’t know?”
“Well…” Thomas paused. “I guess the kid wouldn’t have picked such a stupid lie, if he wasn’t telling the truth…”
“Come on, even you could come up with something better than that.” Gwen grinned at him. “Only an idiot would pick a lie so easy to check out, and Misty said it was cool.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts. I want food, and to get these boots off, and you’re about to commit career suicide. Well, you aren’t taking me with you, dummy. Let’s go, buddy.”
Thomas took a deep breath, but then his shoulders slumped. He nodded. “Fine. Misty, you sure you’re okay? You got this, with Norm?”
Misty beamed a smile. “I sure do feel okay. Norm’s fine. Now, you two, get along. Don’t be late for shift-change on my account.”
Thomas turned around, and after leaning Corey’s rifle against the wall by the door, he left with Gwen.
When the door closed behind them, Corey felt his knees wobble. That had been so close…His head swiveled around to look wide-eyed at Misty, and he mouthed, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” she said, her smile vanishing. “You two knuckleheads damn near got me caught in a firefight, and you killed one of my people. I get you didn’t have a choice, but I don’t reckon that sits well with me, regardless. But I’ll forgive you once you take me to my girl. That’s what you were going to say next before we got interrupted, yeah?”
Nick nodded.
She turned to Norman. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Sit. Stay. Good dog.” She walked into the kitchen, followed quickly by the sound of running water.
Corey missed running water…even cold running water.
EMP Crisis Series (Book 3): Instant Mayhem Page 31
