Condemn (BUNKER 12 Book 2)

by Tanpepper, Saul

  The captain didn't answer.

  "Grant," the colonel said, shaking him harder, "you gave me your word you'd deal with those people. But—"

  He stopped and looked down in surprise at the gun pressed into his gut.

  "Grant?"

  "I'm sorry, Lyle," Cheever said. "I really am." And he squeezed the trigger.

  * * *

  Eddie heard the muffled gunshot from clear outside the building, and he was up the front steps within seconds, moving past a surprised Corporal Lawton before the guard even knew Eddie was there. "What the—" the young man cried, and fell senseless to the ground from shock. Later, he would swear he'd seen a Wraith.

  "I'll take this," Eddie said, relieving the kid of his rifle.

  The wood of the door splintered between the locking bolt and the hinges, but it took a second kick and a blast from the gun before a hole opened up wide enough for Eddie to fit through.

  Light spilled into the darkened hallway from the office, illuminating the colonel as he lay on the floor clutching his side.

  Eddie covered the distance in a flash, but he was already too late to catch the killer. He stepped past the fallen man into the office, where a shocked Finn and Bix stood pressed against the wall.

  Bix pointed at the window, and Eddie flung back the blinds just as a gunshot echoed in the night. Wood chips separated from the frame, spraying into the room. Everyone ducked.

  He pointed the gun out, not caring where the bullet went, and fired off a round. Another shot tore a hole through the blinds and shattered the glass on a framed certificate hanging on the wall.

  "You need to stop him!" the colonel cried weakly from the hallway.

  "Why?"

  "Because he'll destroy the camp."

  Finn crawled across the floor. "Listen, Eddie, this isn't our fight. Let's just get the rest of our people and get the hell out of this place."

  More gunshots rang out, followed by several people shouting. By the time Eddie made it back to the window, Cheever was gone.

  "We can't," Eddie told Finn. "Not yet. Bren's gone with the bus back to the bunker."

  Finn's mouth dropped open. He spun around to face the colonel. "Why didn't you tell us?"

  "I was . . . about to. She accompanied a rescue team to bring . . . the rest of the survivors back here."

  "Who put the team together?" Eddie demanded, spinning around. "Was it Cheever?"

  "Yes," Colonel Wainwright said, gasping for air. He'd pulled himself halfway back into the room and now lay against the door frame. Fresh blood spurted out when he pulled his hand away from his wound. "Jesus, I can't believe he shot me, after all I've done for him."

  Eddie stared at the man, confusion on his face. "Are you saying you didn't know?"

  The colonel coughed and shook his head.

  "I . . . suspected. The disappearances . . . . Happened before."

  "Who shot Danny?"

  "Sergeant Bolton. He fired the last shot."

  "Is he involved?"

  The colonel nodded.

  "Where is he?"

  "Relieved of duty. Sent . . . to quarters. Dammit, I should've seen it sooner."

  "Will Cheever try to take over the base?" Finn asked. The last thing he wanted was to get in the middle of a gunfight.

  "That or run."

  The sound of an engine reached their ears, followed by several others starting up. Finn ran to the window, ignoring Eddie's cries to get away. "Looks like they've chosen to run. They're at the gate on motorcycles!"

  People were shouting now. A gunshot rang out, and Finn ducked instinctively.

  "This place is freaking insane!" Bix cried. He started crawling across the floor to get to the door.

  "Make yourself useful, Bix," Eddie told him. "Put your hand on the colonel's wound. We need him!"

  "Why?

  "Just do it!"

  "Let me," Byron offered, slipping off the chair. "Someone needs to find the medic, and I doubt I'd be of much help there."

  "No . . . medic," Wainwright panted, his voice fading to little more than a whisper. "They're all . . . Cheever's men."

  "Get Hannah," Finn yelled. "She learned a lot from Doc Cavanaugh when—"

  Eddie bolted for the door. "I left her at the infirmary!"

  Finn shouted at Eddie to come back, but the man was already out of the building before he could cross the room.

  There were more gunshots outside, then a crash that sounded like metal being torn.

  "That'll be the front gate," Byron quietly said. He sat in the doorway pressing his palm on the colonel's abdomen. Wainwright was still conscious, but only just.

  The building shook from an explosion. The lights dimmed.

  "What the hell?" Finn shouted.

  "You have to . . . go after them," Wainwright said. His skin had gone as white as paper.

  "No way in hell we're doing that," Bix cried.

  "We're leaving," Finn said, standing up. He ducked as several more gunshots rang out. "But not for him. We need to get back to the bunker and find Bren."

  He turned to gather up the maps he'd seen on the desk. "We're taking these with us, Colonel," he said.

  But the commander didn't argue. He lay on the floor, his eyes open and glassy, staring at nothing.

  More explosions rocked the night, sending everyone to the floor as dust sifted down from the light fixtures. Objects fell off of tables and shelves. But the explosions weren't bombs, and the last gunshots had faded into the night twenty minutes earlier. Cheever and his men had fled.

  Finn finished rolling the maps. He'd instructed Bix to look for more information on the bunkers. As they gathered up loose papers, more of their people arrived.

  The hallway outside was crowded by people seeking answers. Many of them were from Bunker Seven. Most of the long term denizens had either fled to the other end of the compound to avoid the explosions at the gate and the gunfire at the armory, or gone to fight the fires.

  "I'm not finding much more about the bunkers," Harrison Blakeley said. He and Susan had gone through the papers in the filing cabinet, heeding Finn's orders as willingly as if he'd been leading them forever. Finn didn't have time to reflect on this, he just accepted it.

  Upon seeing his son, Harrison paused only long enough to give Bix a quick hug, then asked Finn what needed doing.

  While they searched, Finn explained as best as he could what he knew. Eddie filled in the rest, arriving with Hannah not five minutes after he left. She had fled the infirmary upon hearing the first shots of gunfire, leaving Ramsay alone where Eddie had tied him to a bed using patient restraints. It likely saved her life, as the building was soon raided by armed men rescuing him. The structure was now burning to the ground.

  "Think Cheever knows about Bunker Twelve?" Bix asked.

  "I don't know," Finn replied. "I don't care."

  "But if he does, then—"

  "We're not thinking about that, Bix! We're going after Bren!"

  Finn stepped out into the hallway and shouted for quiet. "Captain Cheever and his people are on the run," he said. "If there are others outside the fence sympathetic to his cause, he'll likely return. You need to prepare to defend yourselves."

  "Take us with you!"

  "I can't, not where I'm going. This is your home now. Stay and defend it. Protect those too weak or too small to fend for themselves."

  "We have no one to lead us!"

  Finn turned to Harry Rollins. "I think you should stay."

  "I'm no leader."

  "Neither am I, and yet here we are. Anyway, you know it's even riskier going back, and I can't do that to your family."

  He gestured to where Byron was sitting with his two sons. "They'll need your help, too, especially Jerry. And Charlie's a good kid."

  "You'll come back once you find Bren?"

  "Yes. Straight back, I promise."

  "Then Bunker Twelve?"

  Finn nodded, but he was doubtful. Judging from the maps and the papers they'd found, there w
as simply no proof of a twelfth bunker. Not even a mention.

  "Finn! Hey!"

  He turned to see Kari pushing her way through the crowd. "I got us another ride, some weapons, and food. Oh, and guess what else?"

  She stepped aside, pulling the person behind her forward.

  Hannah shrieked and pushed Finn away. "Oh my god! Jonah, you're alive!"

  * * *

  "Absolutely not!" Finn said. "I can't let you leave Hannah—"

  "It's not your choice, Finn," Eddie told him. "I'm coming with you. So is Hannah."

  "It's too dangerous!"

  "Bren is Hannah's best friend. And someone has to keep an eye on Jonah."

  "Why can't he stay here with the other children?" Bix asked.

  Jonah scowled at him. "Don't start with me, Blackeye. After what I've been through—"

  "We've all been through a lot," Finn said, cutting him off. He turned to Jonah. "You do know where we're going, right? Seth Abramson's not going to be happy to see either of us."

  "The feeling's mutual, Bolles. Besides, who else is going to make sure you stay out of trouble?"

  "Why you sonofabitch!" Bix cried. "I ought to . . . ."

  Finn pushed away from the two. He grabbed Eddie and pulled him to the side where Kari, Harrison, and Susan were finishing loading up the last of the weapons and food in the van. It didn't look like very much, but they would hopefully only be gone a day and a half.

  "Listen, Eddie," he said, "don't get me wrong. I could sure use your help, but I don't know what's going to happen out there. We might run into Cheever and his men. They're armed and trained. And then there are the Wraiths."

  "You think staying here is safe?"

  Finn gestured at the gate, where several people were working to repair the damage that Cheever and his men had done while fleeing. A half dozen others stood outside, watching the desert landscape in the flickering light of the burning buildings. "Once things settle down here, it will be."

  "No place is safe, Finn," Eddie said. "I think you should know that by now." He shook his head and gave the boy's arm a squeeze. "There are no guarantees. Safety comes from having your friends and family around you. Not from isolating yourself."

  Kari walked over and slapped a set of desert camouflage into his arms. "Better put these on," she said. "That is, unless you plan on attending a sorority pajama party anytime soon."

  "Hey! What about me?" Bix said, trailing at her heels. He pointed at the Delta Delta Delta on his sweatshirt.

  "You're definitely not pretty enough to be wearing that," Kari said, and threw him a set.

  "Loading's nearly finished," Harrison said. "We're ready to go."

  Finn nodded, then watched the man step over to his son. The two talked in low voices, and Finn felt his heart tighten. It was rare to see the two express their feelings to each other, but he knew that it didn't mean they didn't love or worry about each other. Their bond, while invisible, was palpable.

  It made him miss his own father all the more, despite the acrimony that had long existed between them. Only in the final days of his father's life had Finn begun to understand that their own bond had been just as strong.

  "Is Harry around?" he called over to Kari. He stripped down to his underwear and pulled on the camos. He didn't care anymore that others could see his skinny legs— except they didn't seem so skinny anymore.

  "Woo woo!" Hannah said, appearing around the back of the truck. "Sexy!"

  Finn felt his face grow red. He gave her an embarrassed smile and said she was going to get him in trouble with her father.

  "Harry and Fran took the kids around to the family residences," Kari answered. She shooed Hannah away.

  "I wanted to say goodbye."

  "He knows."

  "He should be up here, with the guards, directing them."

  "Don't worry about them," Kari advised. "They'll figure it out. And with Fran at his side, they'll do okay. She's a good, strong woman."

  "I just worry that since they're the newcomers here—"

  "They'll be okay. It's us you should be worried about."

  "Why?"

  "Look at us, just a bunch of misfits." She smiled and handed him a rifle and a couple extra magazines. "By the way, have you ever fired one of these?"

  "No."

  "Then you're in the back of the pickup with the rest of the virgins."

  "I'm not a—"

  "Firearms virgin, Finn." She shook her head at him. "Firearms. I'll be giving a lesson on loading, sighting, firing, and clearing jams. And safety," she added, directing the muzzle of his down to the ground.

  Bix joined him as Kari walked away. "I knew you were a virgin."

  "Would you knock it off, perv!"

  "Just saying." He shouldered his own rifle and walked away. "In case you're wondering, I get to sit in front. With the non-virgins."

  They were on the road before daybreak, a caravan of two vehicles— the truck they got from the base and the van Finn and Bix had arrived in.

  Jonah knew of a place where they could refuel along the way, which was good as the gas tank on the van was close to empty.

  There were six of them in the pickup: Finn, Susan, Eddie, Hannah, and Kari in the bed while Jonah drove. Harrison and Bix shared the van.

  "We should have loaded the supplies in the truck and sat in the van instead," Finn groused. "Bad planning."

  They'd all taken to wrapping bits of clothing around their faces, covering everything but their eyes to protect them against the sun, wind, and dust. Even so, he felt like he'd inhaled a lungful of grit.

  Along the way, Kari taught them what they needed to know about using their weapons. She explained that they were Colt M4 carbines, military grade, which were in such abundance on the base that they didn't feel bad about taking a few from the armory, along with sufficient ammunition that Finn felt like they might actually stand a chance in a gun battle.

  He sincerely hoped it wouldn't come down to that. On the other hand, he was eager to get out and try his aim once they stopped to refuel.

  The ride was bumpy. Jonah kept up a bruising pace, hoping to cut the two-hour drive in half and make up some of the time they'd lost. But it meant that the people in the back were getting thrown around.

  After the lesson, Eddie made Hannah climb through the sliding window and buckle herself into the passenger seat, despite her complaints.

  Behind them, the van fishtailed through every sand drift and gravel bar. Harrison was at the wheel, which left Bix to sit back with his feet on the dash and laugh and point at them until his father told him to behave.

  Jonah slowed at a junction and turned onto it, yelling back that the fuel truck was a mile or so ahead.

  Halfway in, they passed a downed motorcycle. Sand had already begun to drift over it. The adjacent rock outcropping was stained darkly with blood. Bits of tattered clothing were caught up in the weeds, rippling as they passed.

  At last they arrived at the fuel truck. Jonah skidded to a stop in the shade with the van pulling up right behind them. The air reeked with the smell of gasoline.

  "Those bastards," Susan swore, bending down to touch the ground. It was still damp. "They emptied the tank."

  Jonah confirmed it, holding up the dangling hose. "They probably figured somebody'd come after them."

  "Sonofabitch!" Bix cried. "Now what?"

  "We carry on," Finn said firmly. He turned to Jonah. "How much gas is in the truck?"

  "We're good. We left with a full tank."

  "Okay, we'll all just have to fit then. Three across in the cab, five in the bed. Leave the van here."

  "And the supplies?" Harrison asked. "Where do we put them?"

  "On the floor, on our laps," Finn said. He walked over to the van and opened it up. "We sit on some of it, the rest we tie what we can onto the roof. We just need to make it to the bunker."

  "That's a good seven hours," Jonah said. "We might not have enough gas."

  "Well, what do you want me to say?" F
inn cried.

  "We go back and—"

  "No! That'll put us another three or four hours behind. Besides, we may not need to go all the way there. Bren and the rescue team might be heading back now. We could meet up with them an hour down the road for all we know."

  "And how are we going to tie supplies to the roof? We have no rope."

  Finn unsheathed his knife and walked back over to the van. He pulled the passenger side seatbelt out as far as he could and sawed it off at their attachments. "I think these'll work," he said, throwing it at Jonah.

  Eddie pulled him aside while the team transferred the supplies. "You realize Cheever might be heading to Eight, too, right? At least some of them are likely to support him."

  "Or not," Finn said.

  "They came this far."

  "I don't want to talk about it, Eddie. We save our people. If we meet Cheever along the way, we'll deal with that then."

  * * *

  The drive was miserable. The sun baked down on them, and the heat and dust rendered their thirst unquenchable. Jonah, Susan, and Eddie took turns driving. The men tried to make Hannah and the women sit inside the cab. Susan went, but Kari flatly refused, insisting instead that she needed to be in back "if and when the shit hits the fan."

  All this talk made Hannah argue that she should be in back, too. But Eddie would have none of it. "And stop swearing," he told her.

  "I was just saying what Kari said."

  "What Miss Mueller said. And it's no excuse."

  "Daddy!"

  "I mean it."

  For Finn, the hardest part of the ride was knowing that Cheever and his men were somewhere up ahead of them. There were traces of their passage— tire tracks in the sand; a single Wraith, freshly shot in the forehead and left for the vultures in the middle of the road; a downed power pole blocking the way, the wood newly chopped. More and more he had to accept that they were heading straight for the bunker. And that meant a confrontation was inevitable.

  The group arrived at the gorge around three in the afternoon and caught their first glimpse of the dam forty minutes later. Eddie was driving. He slowed their approach.