Bang. Someone’s yellow construction helmet flew up from where he’d just caught a glimpse of it behind a concrete road-dividing berm. Another one bit the dust, he mused, as he rolled away from the car and wiggled behind a deadwood log.
Only a few moments later, the ground all over where he’d been lying flew up in tufts of dirt, and more struck the door he’d perched under. He scanned and found the repeating muzzle flashes of an automatic weapon, the one that had just tried to kill him. Gary took aim, squeezed the trigger, and didn’t bother to watch the bullet hit home. The gunner was a woman, or rather, a girl—she couldn’t have been over sixteen—and Gary didn’t relish the kill. Or any kill. They were needful, not entertainment.
Maniacal laughter to his right suggested not all his troops agreed. Gary ignored it. To each their own. Killers were more valuable than the chicken-head fighters who never pulled the trigger, which in Gary’s experience would be true for about six out of every ten fighters. Or, as he preferred to think of them, bullet sponges, because they tended to get themselves killed by not fighting. He wasn’t sure whether they just froze and did nothing, or if they were some kind of idiot hippies who just didn’t want blood on their hands—as though anyone had blood-free hands, if one really thought about it.
Didn’t matter. He pulled the trigger again. Click. “Jackass,” he muttered. The former driver had said there was a round in the chamber and five in the magazine, but there’d only been four more in the magazine.
Gary looked toward the car. One of the guys from the back seat hadn’t made it out of the car alive. Gary crawled on his belly, keeping the inches-high crest between himself and town, until he got back to the car. He was excited to see he had carried an AR-15, the civvy version of the M16, but it broke in half in his hand when he picked it up. An enemy bullet had shattered the lower receiver, he realized. Crap.
Another look behind him was equally disappointing. No more vehicles had yet shown up. “Fall back,” he called out, ticked off. If they’d all shot half as well as Gary, this whole flank in town would be devoid of life. But no, they’d missed, and the defenders in town were not only returning fire, but Gary could see reinforcements coming up from deeper within the town.
Double-crap. Stalemate. “Fall back, you monkeys,” he roared again. This time, the other attackers stopped shooting, one after the other, and pulled back into the tree line. They left their bullet-riddled cars behind. Well, it had been a spur of the moment plan. Drive up, start killing people, then run inside and do some more of that. Unfortunately, they’d never gotten to the part where it was remotely safe to run inside, and now the defenders were alerted. They wouldn’t be caught flat-footed again, not if they had any reason for surviving this long beyond sheer stupid luck.
Only after he was well within the trees did Gary stand up again. He posted along the road, waiting for follow-up vehicles. He needed a radio to comm with his team leaders, and to warn them not to engage the defenders yet, because “rush in, kill all” had not worked. But damn, it had sure felt good. Five shots, five verdicts of justice for the attempt on his life by their damn ATVs, earlier.
Speaking of which…He gathered his thirteen surviving troops together. “Listen up. Seriously, listen—if you hear tiny engines, call out an alarm. They have ATVs, and they’re fast and good. Then, get the hell down and behind a tree until they go by, then shoot them in the back. If they send out ATVs again, I mean.”
“And if they don’t?” asked one man in a deep and steady voice. “Don’t send out ATVs, I mean.”
Gary frowned. “Then shoot them in whatever they do drive out? God, man, think.”
A voice behind him said, “I think driving into the open with guns blazing was stupid.”
Gary spun around. A thin, tall young man with acne scars on his cheeks stood leaning against a tree, smirking at him.
Gary hardly realized he’d reacted, until a throwing knife embedded itself in the tree the guy leaned upon, right next to his head—cutting the guy’s ear wide open. Oh, well, it would be a good reminder about picking one’s battles, Gary mused.
Now he had just to wait for more troops. As soon as he had enough, though…Burnsville would damn well burn.
44
The Lincoln four-door automobile skid to a halt as the defenders closed the cargo trailer “gate” behind them, once again blocking off the bridge.
Danny felt a moment of horror when he saw that the car had perhaps a dozen bullet holes stitched down the driver’s side, but the occupants shouted out that everyone was okay before opening the doors and stepping out. Misty! His heart raced with relief to see that she was okay. Her passengers were new to Danny, though. A man in his thirties or forties—it was often hard to tell, these days—and a teenage boy, who looked remarkably like the man.
Danny ignored the two men and rushed forward to crush Misty in a bear hug. “Thank God, you made it,” he said. “We heard the gunfire, and I damn near cried.”
“Relax,” she said, her voice calm and even. “We’re fine. Nick and his son, Corey, got me out in time. The only victim was a canteen and the car doors. What are you doing here, Danny? I heard you got ganked by cannibals. I was a wreck, you ass.” Her ongoing embrace and smile belied her words’ harsh tone.
“It had to be believable. I escaped to warn this town they were on Black’s short-list of priority victims. Imagine my surprise when I found your daughter here.”
“Where is—” She didn’t have time to finish, before Brooke bolted forward and tackled her mother in yet another bear hug.
“Mom, I was so scared. I can hardly believe total strangers risked their lives to come get you out of there, before Black killed you.”
Misty practically had to pry her daughter off of her. “I’d never have believed it, if I hadn’t been the one they came for, especially not now, not with Wyatt…”
Brooke looked down at the ground. “Yeah, I heard. Dad’s…a hero, you know. Posthumously.”
Misty nodded. “He always has been. There was just never a chance for heroes to rise, before the CMEs came. But then, he shined so bright. So, how did you come by this town, of all places? My kidnapping rescuers were a little unclear on details.”
Danny said, “They actually didn’t know very much. I pieced together who you were, almost on accident, with your brother’s help.”
He stepped aside to reveal Abram, and extended his hand, inviting her brother to a long-overdue reunion.
Miranda…It was really her, and she was really there standing in front of him. How long had Abram dreamed of that moment? His thoughts raced, but his throat tightened, cutting off the words, and his eyes welled up. It was just too much to handle—but in a good way.
“You’re…my brother?” Miranda eyed him, wary but hopeful.
Her expression, her features, they all proved beyond a doubt. She was indeed his sister. The tears that had threatened him welled over. “I thought you died. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you, Miranda.” It was all he could muster.
She smiled, the expression lighting up her face like a stray sunbeam in the middle of a thunderstorm. “Misty, please. Don’t be sorry. I don’t even know if this is all true. My folks—the ones who took me, if you’re right—they were good people. They raised me just fine, don’t you worry about that, y’hear?”
He nodded and wiped his eyes with his palms. “Sorry. Misty, then. But you are my sister. I see Mom’s eyes and Dad’s cheeks in you. We can talk later about all that, though. I just—I’ve spent my whole life trying to make up for losing you, tried to be a better person. Like I could ever pay off that karma. When I found out you weren’t dead, it was like losing a weight on my shoulders I barely remembered I was carrying.”
Brooke said, “His name’s Abram. He leads a compound of survivors near Fenton, people he rescued from the world burning down around us. He and his people came to help Burnsville scrap with the new bandit king, before it was too late for Burnsville, and for them. Finding you was just God’s way
of paying him back for that.”
Misty shook her head slowly, eyeing Abram. “I still can’t believe it. A brother…”
Running fingers through her hair, Brooke said, “When he found out we’re all kin, and Danny told him what happened to Daddy, he insisted on getting you out, safe.”
Abram couldn’t stop grinning, despite the tears. Who knew “tears of joy” was a real thing? He said, “I radioed back home, and the two who came for you were more than we could spare, but I just…I couldn’t lose you twice. And you had no idea you were even in danger.”
Misty shook her head and took a deep breath. She held her emotions tightly, at the moment, but Abram saw the faint creases around her eyes. She was feeling it, too. His heart leaped.
Somberly, she said, “And everyone hopes we can take back the throne from Black? You’d help me do that?”
Brooke glanced at Abram.
Abram nodded. “As long as he lives and rules over your hometown, you and your daughter won’t ever be safe. And yes, saving you saves Burnsville and my people, both.”
Brooke added, “Believe it, Momma, Black would definitely kill us both, when he got around to it, just to keep us from doing what we’re about to do.”
Abram swore he would never let Black get them, no matter the personal cost.
Danny shifted his gaze toward Misty, waiting for her to respond to Brooke’s statement.
“And what is it that we’re about to do?” Misty eyed her daughter suspiciously. “You know what? Never you mind that right now, young lady. Why are you here?”
Danny felt his mouth turn up at the corners. Misty knew her daughter, that was certain.
Brooke said, “Well, I’m grown now, and I can date who I want. Kent and me, we’ve dated since a little after I turned eighteen, and we flirted plenty before that. He just said we had to wait, ’cause it was the right way.”
“What did he do for a living?” Misty raised one eyebrow.
“He was a laborer, before the CMEs. He’s…Um…”
Kent’s deep and confident voice caught Danny’s attention away from Brooke. “Hello, there. I’m Kent, now the mayor of Burnsville in every way that matters. I’m very pleased to meet you, and I want you to know that I wasn’t aware she’d said she was camping with friends, the week the CMEs hit. I’ve wanted to meet you since we got serious.”
Misty’s eyes were wide, and her face dropped one shade paler. “Are you two…I mean, how long have you two—” Her voice cracked, cutting her off.
Brooke laughed, clearly forcing it, and looked askance at her mother. “We met maybe a month before I turned eighteen. We started dating a couple months later, and by then, we’d become friends.”
Kent said, “Nothing happened before she was an adult.”
Brooke snapped her fingers, getting her mom’s attention off of staring at Kent. “Momma. We have bigger problems. Focus.”
Her eyes bored into Kent, her fists balling up. “Bigger problems than a man your dad’s age taking advantage of a naïve, young girl?” She turned to Abram. “How long have you known about this—”
Kent interrupted, “Our age wasn’t what brought us together, and she’s not so naïve as you seem to think. Abram only just found out, and she’s not a girl, either. She’s grown, and she’s got a good head on her shoulders for any age. You know what I mean?”
“Enlighten me.” Misty unclenched her fists, but her arms stayed crossed as she faced Kent head-on.
Danny resisted the urge to step between mother and daughter. Actually, it was unfortunate Misty had decided to air their dirty laundry in public, but it wasn’t his place to say so. He just watched, ready to step in if needed.
Kent replied evenly, “Ma’am, you raised her to be a thinker, and a doer. And she’s right, we were friends first. Dating…Well, that kind of happened on accident. I don’t even know when I figured out I loved her, or when she figured it out, but we’ll argue about that until I’m old, I figure.”
Misty said, “So, like, right now.”
Brooke ignored her and beamed a smile at Kent. “Dummy, it was when I fell asleep leaning on you. I never do that with guys around. It’s not safe. But I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. I could only fall asleep like that if I felt safe, I knew that right away.”
“Nah, babe. It was when I didn’t mind you falling asleep on me, and I was chill just hanging there like that, for like, six hours? I didn’t even get up to use the bathroom, just so I didn’t wake you up. I never did that before, neither.”
Misty looked back and forth between them, expression showing what Danny imagined was wariness. Certainly, Danny had been leery of Kent when he found out Brooke was dating a man twice her age.
Misty looked down and took a deep breath. She let it out slowly, then looked up and said, “Well. It’s not my business, I guess.”
Danny cocked his head. That was not what he’d expected at all. “What?”
She shrugged but kept talking to Brooke directly. “Your dad would have killed him, or he’d have died right there on the spot from a heart attack, and you know it’s true. So, I’m glad he’s not alive to see this.”
Kent turned to face her head-on, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, he would have killed me? Why’s that?”
“Why do you think?” Misty paused, then rolled her eyes as she shrugged. “Because, she’s half your age. No daddy wants his daughter to date someone his own age.”
Kent let out a sigh, sounding relieved. Danny put one hand on Brooke’s shoulder, the other on Misty’s. “You can talk about May-December romances later. Right now, though, you both have a bigger fish to fry.”
Brooke nodded, stepped away from her mother, and slid her arm around Kent’s waist. She looked at Danny. “You explain it. It sounds better from you.”
Danny wasn’t so sure about that. Brooke was stunning and smart as a tack, just like her mother, and most things sounded better coming from gorgeous, smart women, even their daughters. At least, they sounded better to Danny.
But she’d asked him to do it, so he shrugged and cleared his throat. “I’m virtually certain that Black murdered Wyatt, or at the very least, deliberately let him die.” As the words left his mouth, he regretted saying it, not because he didn’t believe it, but rather, because speaking the words made losing his close friend seem somehow more real.
He continued, “Black took advantage of that to take power for himself, using the classic propaganda tactic of ‘blaming someone else,’ in this case, Nettletown.”
Misty, frowning, replied, “What do we have to do with Nettletown?”
Corey, behind them all, said, “You know what happened there.”
Danny ignored the interruptions. “Without someone shining a light on him, no one will look in his direction long enough to ask if and when the election will be, nor why he should be the choice for our new mayor.”
“A coup, as I heard already.” Misty bit the inside of her cheek, then pushed it out with the tip of her tongue, listening. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply before continuing. “You got proof of any of this?”
Her tone left Danny no confusion about whether she believed him entirely or not. Her doubt was plain. That snake was too charming by half, dammit.
Nick spoke up, though, before Danny could reply. “I know for damn sure he slaughtered every person still in Nettletown, after Wyatt died leading a raid of the town. From what my people could gather by questioning the survivors, who were too young, old, or broken to stay and fight, Clarks Crossing and Nettletown had a few tense encounters since the CMEs, over resource rights.”
Misty nodded slowly. “Yeah…about that farmland they’d planted but couldn’t harvest, and maybe some salvage from ghost towns between them and us, basically. Nettletown got to it first, while Wyatt was holding off, hoping they’d work out some fair deal.”
Danny frowned. This was uncomfortably close to home, but honesty mattered more than comfort or even his health. “Wyatt went to Nettletown, he said before le
aving, to grab some of Nettletown’s huge piles of loot that he was convinced they gathered up and hid. They weren’t going to share, not even in trade. They made some threats, from what I heard.”
Misty’s lips flatlined. “Those things tend to spiral out of control.”
“Yeah. I tried to talk him out of it, but he felt that if we backed down, it would set a bad precedent. He thought that if he just let it go, we’d look weak, and they might think they could take advantage of us, somehow.”
She nodded, crossing her arms. “Yeah, that sounds like him. But he was a talker, not a fighter. Not really.”
“True.” Danny smiled, and hoped it looked reassuring. “I got him to agree to at least go there under a white flag to try to talk it out again, see if we couldn’t negotiate something, at least.”
Misty looked askance at him. “So, no one expected gunplay?”
“No. Certainly not Wyatt.”
“And then, after my husband was killed?”
Danny took a deep breath and couldn’t meet her eyes. “When Wyatt died, Black came back leading the pack, and he brought far more loot than they could have scavenged without sacking the whole town, first.”
He paused to hold Misty’s gaze. Seconds ticked by.
At last, though, she nodded so slightly that he almost missed the cue.
He added, “And everyone on the salvage run refused to talk about what happened after Wyatt…after he was gone. Not to me, or anyone else.”
“And Black took over the op, then came back and took over the town.” Misty kept her gaze locked onto Danny, eyes roving his face, searching.
“When he came back, he acted like he was already in control. There was no one to oppose him. When I started to ask questions about Black’s version of the story, though, he sent his junkyard dog after me, his pit bull of a henchman, Gary.”
EMP Crisis Series (Book 3): Instant Mayhem Page 34
