“There goes Sergei,” Nate shouted. “Don’t let him get away.”
Hopping over the turnstile, Nate ran up the stairs after him with Brooks close behind. Walker ran after the other two.
A frigid wind slapped at Nate’s face as he worked his way up the stairs, the lactic acid making his muscles scream. Near the top riser, Nate saw two figures wrestling in the snow. Someone had already brought him down.
They reached the top and Nate was stunned.
Sergei screamed in pain as Shadow tore at his outstretched arm, trying for the man’s neck. Nate used the butt of his rifle to knock him out. Shadow continued chomping away until he saw his plaything had gone limp.
“Good work, buddy,” Nate said, ruffling the wolf’s ashy fur.
Shadow turned to Brooks and let out a low growl.
“It’s okay. He’s on our side.”
Nate and Brooks grabbed the semi-conscious Sergei by the collar of his Armani suit and dragged him back underground. Here he would be judged and given a full measure of righteous justice.
Chapter 33
Sergei was stripped of any weapons and unceremoniously duct-taped to a pillar in the mezzanine. The survivors wouldn’t be ready to deliberate on the mob boss’ punishment before they’d made a complete accounting of his many crimes. Besides, Nate had far more important things on his mind than retribution.
Following the battle, the entire subway station smelled of gunpowder and death. Bodies lay scattered in every direction. But for every death, there were at least two more who were wounded. Nate found Dakota tending to one of them. It was Colt, the other members of the Citadel team doing what they could to help.
She was about to start chest compressions when Walker nudged her out of the way. “Lemme do this,” he barked, lacing his fingers as he attempted to berate his friend back to life. Brooks cupped his own forehead, struggling to look.
Dakota stood and wiped her hands on her pants.
“Was she hurt?” Nate asked. He was terrified of saying Amy’s name.
The girl hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “She’s through that door. Might wanna go quickly before you miss anything.”
He paused and gave her a hug. “Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t thank me. People you loved were killed and it’s all my fault.”
“If it wasn’t for you, they might all have died.”
It seemed cold comfort given the carnage around them.
Nate rushed through the open doorway and down the corridor to the breakroom. He was nearly there when he heard the sound of a child crying.
Amy was lying on the table, a jacket draped over her. A blonde woman was holding his newborn baby.
“It’s a girl,” the woman said proudly, handing it to Amy. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Takes after her mother,” Nate said, leaning down to kiss Amy’s clammy forehead and marvel at his daughter. He was bursting with so much joy he hoped this moment would never end.
“Born during a shootout,” Amy said, her voice weak. “Makes her a real Bauer, don’t you think?”
“Little baby Roxy,” he said, covering the child with a towel someone brought.
“My daughter’s no Roxy,” Amy snapped before her face eased into a smile. “Nice try though.”
He grinned. It was good to see the old fire was still there.
“What do you think of Clementine?” Amy asked.
It had a nineteenth-century flair that seemed somehow appropriate these days. He nodded. Clementine it was.
When the initial onslaught of euphoria had worn off, Nate took Hunter and Emmitt aside to console them over the loss of their mother. “I know nothing can bring her back, but I want you boys to know I will always be there for you.” He pulled them in tight, meaning every word.
“What about my dad?” Emmitt said, his cheeks as red as the disheveled mop of hair atop his head.
“Your dad’s a fighter,” Nate said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. But there was no way he intended to tell his nephews the real likelihood they’d ever see their dad again.
He was heading back to Amy when he saw the blonde woman who had helped deliver Clementine. Standing next to her was a young, expressionless boy.
Nate extended a hand and introduced himself properly. “I wanted to thank you for everything you did in helping Amy and I.” Even as he spoke, he felt there was something unusual about this woman. She was pleasant-looking with a small scar on the upper right side of her forehead.
She took his hand. “I’m Holly and this is Dillon. I know this might sound strange, but I think our parents might have known each other. Dolly and Brian Andrews. That ring any bells?”
Nate’s forehead furrowed in thought. “Can’t say that it does. But right now, I probably wouldn’t know my own folks if they were standing in front of me.”
Holly let out a nervous little laugh and waved her hand. She was thinking about the letter. That it would explain everything. At least she hoped it would.
They both stood there smiling awkwardly for a moment before Nate excused himself. He gave Amy and the baby another kiss before heading back out to check on the others. When he arrived at the mezzanine he saw the sweater laid over Colt’s head and heard the sound of a commotion nearby.
Brooks was trying to prevent an armed Walker from shooting Sergei in the head. For his part, the Russian mobster was begging for his life, promising millions of dollars to anyone who would free him.
A crowd began to gather. Brooks stood between Walker and Sergei.
“Move outta the way, Brooks!” the old soldier bellowed. The howl of pain in his voice was unmistakable.
“Not like this,” Brooks said, his hands up.
A new voice called out from the crowd. It was Ash, a bandage covering his collar bone where the bullet had gone straight through. “Stand down, both of you. That sorry excuse for a human being doesn’t deserve a firing squad.” Two civilians helped him through the survivors, who watched the scene unfold. “Last I heard this man and his goons killed seventy innocent people, not to mention our brother in arms and members of Nate’s family. No, a single bullet’s far too good. What Sergei needs is a different kind of justice. Something more… poetic.” He used his good hand to pull out a thin-bladed hunting knife. “Sergei, you are charged and convicted in the taking of innocent lives. I hereby sentence you to death by a thousand cuts.”
The crowd grew silent, forming into a solemn line. One by one they would deliver a single, non-lethal stab wound. Those at the back could only hope he wouldn’t die too soon.
In the old world, this might have seemed barbaric and monstrous. What many of the survivors now understood was that civility was a luxury this new world could no longer enjoy.
When it was Nate’s turn, he delivered his blow for Lauren, Carl and Liz.
“My people will avenge my death,” Sergei said, grimacing, his voice reduced to little more than a whisper.
“If they dare,” Nate replied, his own voice calm and filled with assurance, “they’ll meet you in hell.”
•••
Holly was packing when she came across the letter her mother had asked her to give Nate. She had hoped he might recognize her parents’ names. But sadly, that hadn’t been the case.
“Hey, people are leaving soon,” Johnny said, not wanting to startle her.
She quickly stuffed the letter into her pocket. “Yeah, I’m just getting my things together.” She zipped up her suitcase and rose to her feet. “Listen, I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done. I won’t lie. I was convinced you were a class-one asshole, but now I’m not so sure.”
Johnny chuckled. “I’m happy I was able to plant some doubt in your mind.”
“Where will you go?” she asked.
He rested his hands on his hips and sighed. “Hard to say. For obvious reasons nobody really wants to stay. But they’re also uncertain what the alternative is.”
“There are too many bad memories here,” Holly
said. “Too many ghosts.”
“All I know is somehow I need to get back home to San Francisco.”
She nodded, knowing it was the right thing to do, but feeling, in a way she’d never expected, like she might actually miss him. They hugged and wished each other well and Johnny disappeared back into the gloom.
Holly removed the letter from her pocket, staring at it for a long time. She would walk up to Nate, hand it to him and face whatever the resulting fallout might be. It had been her mother’s dying wish.
Then again, hadn’t she come all this way for a fresh start? She stood torn—no, paralyzed—her thoughts bobbing and weaving like the candle flame illuminating the space she was in.
At last she bent down and held the corner into the open flame. Quickly the letter caught, orange and yellow fingers licking up the sides. Eventually, when her fingers couldn’t take it anymore, she let it fall away.
Chapter 34
After they said a few words for those who had died, the Citadel crew told a few stories about the kind of guy John Colt had been. It seemed a terrible tragedy for the world to lose such a man, especially at a time when they needed him the most. But Nate knew no matter how bad things got, some good could always be salvaged. As Walker said in his own fumbling way, Colt had been a role model for many and would be greatly missed.
When they were done sealing most of the bodies in the last two northbound subway cars, the few who remained assembled near the turnstiles. Sergei’s body was one they would leave behind, taped to the same pillar where he had died, the blood dripping from his slack features already starting to ice over. Above him was a sign that simply read: ‘Criminal.’ For as long as it remained, it would serve as a monument to how evil would be dealt with from now on.
The other body was Colt’s, wrapped in a large American flag one of the refugees had been kind enough to offer up.
Standing a few feet from Nate was Holly, her arm around Dillon.
“So you gonna give it to him?” a voice asked her for everyone to hear.
“Johnny? I thought you left?”
“I was on my way out when I suddenly remembered the letter. The one you told me your mother wrote.” Johnny’s twinkling eyes were darting between Nate and Holly.
Those standing nearby were noticeably confused.
“Did I miss something?” Brooks asked, as he and Walker exchanged a look.
“I burnt it,” Holly said, waving him away.
“Burnt what?” Nate asked.
Holly glared at Johnny, wondering if looks really could kill. “Remember I asked you earlier if our folks knew one another?”
Nate nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well, before she died, my mom wrote a letter and asked me to hand-deliver it to you. Insisted it couldn’t be mailed. She said your parents had passed away and it needed to find you. Made me swear I wouldn’t read it before I’d placed it in your hands. I held onto that letter for a few years after she died. Finally, when Dillon and I left Seattle, I decided to take it with me. I figured Chicago was as good a place as any to start a new life. Especially if it would allow me to fulfill her dying wish.”
“So, what did it say?” Nate asked, blown away by the strange twist, but also suddenly worried by what it might say.
“Well, that’s the thing,” Holly tried to explain. “I never found out. But here’s what I do know. You’re a good person, Nate. Part of a dying breed. I was gung-ho to get it to you, come hell or high water, right up until we actually met. Then I suddenly wasn’t so sure. The letter was thick enough that it couldn’t have been anything good. So it’s going to remain a mystery forever, I’m afraid.”
A heavy, stunned silence hung in the air for several seconds, broken only by the sound of Johnny clearing his throat. “Well, that last part might not be completely accurate.”
Holly stared at him.
“You see, after you told me about the letter, it kept scratching at my brain. A little bit at first, but before long it went from scratching to tearing like a full-on pair of raptor claws.”
“Oh, God, you didn’t,” Holly said, slapping a hand over her mouth.
Johnny’s face squished up like a man who’d sucked on a bad lemon. “Yeah, I did.”
“You read my mother’s letter?”
“Uh-huh, and sealed it back up so you wouldn’t notice.”
“I cannot believe you,” Holly shouted.
“So what the hell did it say?” Brooks cried out in frustration. “You’re killing us here.”
“You want the long version or the short?” Johnny asked, bracing himself for the onslaught.
“Short,” the group shouted in unison.
Holly felt her heart galloping in her chest so fast she thought it would burst through her ribcage and plop onto the floor at her feet.
Johnny cleared his throat. “For starters, your name isn’t really Holly Andrews—it’s not your birth name anyway. You were born Marie Bauer and you’ve been missing for just over nineteen years. Your mother’s dying gift was to give you back the family you never knew you had.”
Nate turned to her on a pair of wobbly legs. All the blood had drained from his face. His jaw hung open, his mind a hurricane of thoughts and emotions. He’d thought there had been something familiar about her. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Across from him, Holly—Marie—was experiencing the same torrent of emotion.
Tears were streaming down the faces of friends and strangers alike. The two of them hugged and people spontaneously burst into applause. It was perhaps the most surreal moment either of them had ever experienced in their lives.
Still overcome by the news, Holly realized she should never have burnt that letter.
“But how can that be?” Amy asked, her face red and splotchy. “How could she not remember who she was?”
All eyes turned to Johnny. This time he looked rather somber. “Apparently, there was some kind of shooting accident that Marie—uh, Holly—felt was all her fault. Filled with despair, she went into the woods to end her life and very nearly succeeded, except the branch she swung the rope over must have snapped at the last minute. Gravely hurt, she stumbled onto a nearby road and was knocked into a ditch by the Andrews’ passing Winnebago. They thought they’d killed the poor girl and scooped up the body, terrified they’d go to jail for murder. Except, a hundred miles later, they discovered she wasn’t dead at all, just really badly hurt. And with part of the rope still around her neck, no less. Mrs. Andrews wasn’t sure why the young woman had tried to kill herself, but took it as her mission in life to help rehabilitate the girl and send her home as soon as she was better. Only she woke up not remembering who she was or what had happened. And without children of their own, it only made sense in their minds to keep her for just another week, which soon became months and then years. Being deeply religious folk, the Andrewses always wrestled with what they had done, never really certain whether it had been an act of grace or a terrible sin. It was even harder after they watched it on TV once the story made it onto the national news. Especially when the Bauer family came on pleading for her return. They looked nice enough, but how could the Andrewses take the chance of sending her back there? That was why Dolly Andrews wrote the letter explaining what had happened and asked you to hand-deliver it.”
Nate held both of Holly’s hands, studying them and the old gash on her forehead he now remembered her getting after falling off the swing set in the back yard.
“Whatever happened back then at the firing range when that boy was killed,” Nate told her, drawing her into a firm hug, “it wasn’t your fault.”
“I guess that’s one of the perks of amnesia,” Holly replied. “You don’t carry around every mistake you’ve ever made. My parents told me I’d been pretty banged up in a car accident. That it was the reason I couldn’t remember anything. I just took them at their word.”
They were still reeling with the sudden and unexpected revelation when Ash spoke up. “I hate to kill the mood, but I real
ly wish you’d reconsider our offer,” he said to Nate.
“What offer?” Amy asked, sitting in a chair nearby with Clementine. Beside her was Dakota, fawning over the child like an older sister.
“To come back with us to the Citadel,” Ash replied. “But your man already said no.”
Amy threw him a piercing look. “Nathan T. Bauer, did you really just make a decision for our whole family on your own? Don’t forget we’ve got others to look after now besides ourselves.”
Walker, Brooks and Ash snickered.
“I know now what that T stands for,” Walker said, rubbing his hands together devilishly.
Brooks joined in. “Yeah, trouble.”
“So what do you say, Nate?” Ash said, prodding him. “The offer’s still open. We always have room for folks like yourself. People with a strong set of values.”
Nate nodded and shook hands with all three of them. “You heard the wife. Sounds like we don’t have a choice.” He caught the flash of sadness filling Dakota’s face. “Young lady, you’re coming with us whether you like it or not.”
The beaming smile that took over was yet another bright spot in a day of mixed emotions.
He next turned his attention to Holly or―“What do I even call you now?”
“Holly,” she said, matter-of-factly. “That’s the name I’ve had for as far back as I can remember.”
“I understand. So what do you say?”
“About what?”
“Will you and Dillon join us?”
She glanced down at her son, who seemed to be smiling for the first time in a long while. “How could I say no when we have so much catching up to do?”
•••
Many of those heading to the Citadel were still gathering their things when Nate found Dakota still up on the mezzanine, leaning against a billboard for high-waisted jeans. She saw him coming and smiled. “So what do you suppose it’ll be like?”
“The Citadel?”
She nodded, folding her arms over her chest.
“Can’t be worse than living in a subway station.” His brow furrowed. “Why? Are you worried?”
America Offline | Books 1 & 2 | The Day After Darkness Page 39
