Stone Cold Fear | Book 3 | Ice Burn

by Fawkes, K. M.

  She turned and stared at him. “No. I’m saying the guys out there turning guns on normal citizens just because they’ve decided that they need to be in charge aren’t trustworthy. Are you actually going to tell me I’m wrong?”

  Pete was just opening his mouth to answer—though he hadn’t decided what he was going to say—when Sam suddenly got off his radio and decided to start paying attention to them.

  “What’s the problem?” he barked, whirling around in his chair and turning his eyes from Marie to Pete and back. “You two having a lover’s spat or something?”

  Pete snapped his mouth shut and turned to Sam with a glare. “She’s not my lover. Just a fellow traveler, man.”

  Sam gave Pete a look that said he didn’t believe one word of that, and then turned and looked Marie up and down slowly.

  Pete’s blood pressure went up several points in fury at the sight, and his hands clenched on the bench seat. Marie’s hand came down on his, though, squeezing roughly, and he kept his mouth shut.

  She was right. He’d told her to keep her mouth shut when she had things to say. Getting into it with Sam right now over the way Sam had looked at Marie was not smart. Besides, it wasn’t like the woman was anything to him. Just a fellow traveler, like he’d said.

  One that annoyed the hell out of him.

  He needed to keep his eyes on the prize. Get to the CO, whoever he was, and get some more information about what was going on. Try to figure out whether there was anything he could do here in Anchorage to help. Try to figure out whether he could get home.

  Not that things would be any better there. If he was reading the situation right, the entire world had been tipped on its side. But dealing with a sideways world would be a whole lot easier if he was doing it from his own house. In his own clothes. With a beer in his hand.

  “Let’s go,” Sam said, letting Pete and Marie off the hook when it came to their argument. “General Nolan wants to see all of you.”

  He shot out of the Jeep like he’d been shocked and Marie, Pete, and Jack slid out after him, falling into a group about five strides behind him. Far enough that they could continue to talk, if they kept their voices down.

  Close enough that they weren’t going to lose him. And they wouldn’t look like they were trying to get lost.

  Pete hoped.

  They didn’t have much chance to talk, though, as Sam hustled them through one group of marching soldiers after another, totally disregarding what he was doing to their formation. Pete and his friends had enough trouble getting through the lines of soldiers without being accidentally skewered by the knife on someone’s belt to try to talk to one another, and by the time the soldiers died down, they were entering a building and turning into what had once been someone’s office.

  “You lot stay here,” Sam commanded, his voice echoing through the small space. “The general’s expecting me. I’ve got to report to him, see what he wants done with you.”

  He disappeared through the door a moment later, and Pete heard the sound of the lock being shot into place right after him.

  “So we’re now locked in a room on a faux military base with a group of people who obviously think they can do whatever they want,” Marie said. “I feel like we’ve somehow found our way right back into Mueller.”

  “Only these guys have better guns,” Pete agreed. “And they actually know how to use them.”

  He walked quickly to the door and tried it, knowing that it would be locked but needing to see for himself.

  The door was, in fact, locked.

  Jack gave Pete and Marie both a knowing look. “I tried to tell you the military was trouble. If you’d listened, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

  Okay, so that was true. Not that Pete was going to admit it. Things should have been fine once they found military personnel. These people should have been the key to not only figuring out what was going on, but also finding a safe place to stay while the world tried to right itself again.

  Even now, with everything that had happened, he was hoping against hope that they’d managed to find a safe place. Maybe Sam the Soldier was just a real prick, and had the wrong idea about what was going on. Maybe once they spoke to this General Nolan, things would become clear and the military would become what Pete had been hoping it was.

  And those soldiers who had been manhandling the people on the street? They could be outliers. There were a few bad apples in every bushel, and the guys in charge couldn’t always keep an eye on everyone.

  “Things might not be as bad as they look,” he said firmly. “We might still be okay.”

  Jack, though, shook his head sharply. “Thomas always said the military could kill us just as easily as they helped us, and that’s sure what it looks like out there in the city. Hell, maybe we would have been safer back in—”

  At that moment, a new guard threw open the door behind Jack, lifted a handgun, and shot Jack in the head, sending his brain exploding all over the wall.

  Jack’s body dropped to the ground, only half of his head still intact, and the guard stepped over him.

  “That’s what happens to people who talk badly about our soldiers,” he said bluntly, looking from Marie to Pete, and back again. “You two know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouths shut and cooperate rather than talking back. Let’s go. The general wants to see you.”

  He stepped to the side, waiting for them to move through the door in front of him, and Pete glanced down at Jack, his stomach roiling, his breath short in his lungs.

  God, the man had been talking to them ten seconds ago. And now he was dead.

  And Pete’s hope that this group of soldiers might turn out to be okay had exploded into nothing more than dust. These guys weren’t okay. They were killers. And he and Marie had to get the hell out of here, before they ended up in a grave with Jack.

  Looking up, he saw that knowledge in Marie’s eyes, too. And he saw something else, there.

  Anger, he realized. Because they’d brought Jack with them to save him. And now he was dead.

  Well, Pete was going to be damned if he had to watch one more person die on his watch. They had to figure out a way out of this place. Pronto.

  And they had to do it without getting killed.

  Chapter 16

  Pete had to hand it to Marie. When he first met her, he’d thought she was nothing more than a nosy woman who didn’t know her place, and who was far too likely to stick her nose into someone else’s business with absolutely no idea of what she was doing—or who she was harming.

  Her constant harping about finding a way to work with the prisoners rather than just killing them outright in Mueller had been one of the most annoying things he thought he’d ever experienced.

  But she’d either grown by leaps and bounds since he’d first seen her taking Clyde’s vitals, or she’d just been doing a really damn good job of pretending to be a helpless damsel. It wouldn’t have been out of the realm of believability, he knew—and now that he thought of it, he wouldn’t put it past her.

  Pretend to be stupid and helpless so they underestimate you. So they leave you alone when they’re clearing the board. Then jump on them and show them who you really are when their backs are turned.

  It could have been what she was playing at. It certainly made sense if it was.

  Because right now, he didn’t see any of the girlishness he’d seen in that prison. None of the willingness to work with someone—and none of the concern about someone else’s life.

  Instead, he saw pure rage boiling in her eyes.

  And he liked it.

  She took one more look down at Jack, her shoulders clenching in what Pete knew had to be a realization that it wasn’t worth getting down on her knees to feel for a pulse. The man was well and truly gone.

  And with that realization, she looked up at Pete again.

  They didn’t have time to discuss a plan. Hell, they didn’t even have time to nod to each other in agreement that they neede
d a plan. Not without that damn guard at the door seeing them.

  But the knowledge was right there in her eyes. They were going to have to do something. And it sure as fuck better result in them getting off this campus and to some hiding place, or they were going to be dead, dead, dead.

  Pete lifted one eyebrow in acknowledgment and agreement with what he saw in her eyes, and then they were moving. Or rather…

  Well, he guessed, then their masks fell into place and they started playing their roles.

  Marie dropped to her knees, sobbing at what had just happened, and put a shaking hand to Jack’s untouched cheek, her fingers twitching in what had to look like shock to the soldier above them.

  “Oh my God, you killed him!” she shrieked. She looked up at the guard, her face quivering with emotion and streaked with tears. “You killed him for no reason, you bastard!”

  She threw herself down over the body of the man who had been… not their friend, but certainly their compatriot, Pete thought. Then she started weeping for real.

  At least that was how it sounded. Pete knew that it couldn’t be true. But he was also pretty impressed with how good she was at faking it.

  He was about to walk over and do his best to fake comfort the fake tears, his mind already moving through the guns he actually had in his possession—a Glock in his boot and another in the back of his waistband, both of them loaded and ready for action—when Marie actually exploded up off of Jack’s body, screaming.

  Pete took three steps back, too surprised by the action and the noise to stop himself, and watched in surprise as Marie flew at the guard, her nails out and her teeth bared in pure fury. She didn’t have a gun, Pete remembered. She’d had the rifle when they were trying to shoot at the people from Clearview, but she’d left it in the Hummer when they got out at the military checkpoint.

  She was unarmed, so she was using her body—and her nails, and, he had no doubt, her teeth as well—to go after the guard who had shot Jack.

  She hit him like a cannonball, and Pete was already moving toward them before the guard could do anything about it. Marie’s hands went shooting out toward the guard’s face, her nails leaving red as she swiped at him again and again, and though the guard was shaking his head and trying to get her off, backing up as quickly as he could, the woman was clinging like her life depended on it.

  “You bastard, you bastard, you bastard!” she screeched, kicking and biting and scratching and pulling with all her might.

  And Pete was right behind her. He reached around, grabbed the gun out of his waistband, and brought it up sharply against the guard’s skull. One twitch and he’d pulled the trigger, sending the guard’s brains splattering against the wall behind him.

  “I’m getting really tired of the brains on the wall bit,” he muttered, stifling his gag reflex. “Let’s get the hell out of here before someone comes to see what all the shooting is about.”

  He ducked down and ran his hands over the guard’s body, looking for the gun that the guard had been carrying. The gun he’d just used to shoot Jack.

  Pete hadn’t watched what he’d done with it. But this was a military guy, and that meant he followed one rule, above and beyond anything else: Never put your gun in a place you can’t reach it.

  It was here, somewhere. He just had to—

  Ah. His fingers came across the hard shape of a gun tucked into a pocket in the guy’s coat, and he yanked it out and threw it toward Marie in one move.

  She caught it in one hand, grasped it with the other, and checked the safety.

  “Got it,” she muttered. “What’s the plan for getting out of here?”

  “Follow my lead,” he said quietly, standing and sneaking toward the door.

  Pete peeked around the corner of the front door, doing his level best to look as casual as possible. He had no bloody idea whether it was working or not, as he’d never actually had to try to look casual before. The very act of trying was so opposite to being casual that he was certain he was standing out like a sore thumb, everything about his body tense and ready for flight.

  He probably looked like a freaking idiot.

  But if anyone got suspicious, he was prepared to fight his way out.

  “Whole lot easier if we can just walk out,” he told Marie quietly. “Pretend we know what we’re doing. Pretend we’re supposed to be here.”

  “Oh, we’re supposed to be here,” she said back. “We’re just not supposed to be here without a guard, I don’t think. Something tells me they don’t like strangers in these parts.”

  “Seems to be a common theme for us,” Pete replied.

  Marie snorted and drew up to stand right next to him. “You have any idea where we’re going?”

  “Someplace safe. Someplace where they’re not going to look for us.” He looked over at her. “You got any bright ideas?”

  Marie turned her eyes from the right to the left, and then settled on the gate. “I say we get out of the gate alive, and then figure the next step out. Thoughts?”

  Pete almost grinned. Almost.

  “I think that sounds like a great idea,” he answered. “Let’s go.”

  The first three steps were the hardest, because he took them assuming that they were going to be shot at any moment. Still, he strode out into the courtyard that made up the driveway of City Hall—or what had once been City Hall—trying very, very hard to act like it didn’t matter.

  And to stop thinking about how much it did.

  No one shot at them, though, and pretty soon they were walking like normal people. Not necessarily normal people out for a stroll on the beach, but at least people who knew what they were doing and where they were going. Pete reached down and took Marie’s hand, wanting to make sure they stayed together, and increased his pace, his eyes on the gate. It was about two hundred feet away, maybe a bit less, and that wasn’t that far.

  The problem was all the soldiers between here and there.

  They couldn’t afford to be recognized, he knew. If anyone saw them—or guessed that they weren’t supposed to be here alone—it would be curtains. Too many soldiers with guns. Too many people to take them out if the shooting started.

  Too many people in army uniforms, making it even more obvious that Pete and Marie were dressed like civilians.

  And even if they managed to get through the gate, too many people to chase them and try to recapture them.

  Pete strolled along, his shoulders tight with tension and Marie’s hand clasped in his, his eyes on the soldiers around them, his jaw clenched. Too many soldiers. God, there were too many soldiers. Why the hell had he thought it was a good idea to come with Sam to this place, where they were bound to be outnumbered? Why hadn’t he thought to make the general, whoever he was, come to them at the checkpoint instead?

  Because he’d thought he could trust the military, he remembered. He’d been wrong. So, so wrong.

  Before long, the soldiers around them started casting them suspicious glances. Frowning with confusing at two obvious civilians walking through their midst—and holding hands, no less. Yes, they’d both managed to slip their guns into pockets, so they weren’t walking through here appearing to be armed, but it still looked odd.

  They were definitely drawing too much attention.

  Pete watched several of them start to whisper and point, their brows drawn down over their eyes in suspicion, and gulped.

  “Walk faster,” he muttered. “We’re not going to be able to get away with this much longer.”

  He lengthened his strides, hoping Marie could keep up—and that it didn’t look too obvious.

  “And what, you think they’re going to get less suspicious when it’s so obvious that we’re hurrying?” Marie asked, her voice turning slightly breathless now.

  “I think we might actually get through the gates more quickly, and to a place where we can hide,” he ground out.

  He stopped watching the soldiers and turned his eyes just to the gate now. That was the place. That wa
s their escape. One hundred feet, max, and they’d be out into the city. And from there, he was confident that they could get away. There would be plenty of places without soldiers, as soon as they were through those gates.

  He increased his pace again, his back twitching with all the eyes watching them. The hairs on his neck stood up, warning him that there was more than just watching going on, and at that point, he started running.

  “Run!” he shouted—unnecessarily, since he was already dragging her into a sprint toward the gates.

  Marie, bless her, didn’t ask why. She just darted after him, her hand clenching in his with tension.

  And seconds after that, the shooting started.

  Pete and Marie ducked down, getting as close as they could to the ground, and sprinted forward, their eyes on the gates in front of them as the bullets sprayed around them, throwing up the snow and hitting the buildings. Pete jerked his arm up and pointed his gun over his shoulder, pulling the trigger quickly without thinking about aiming at anything. Just hoping that he was hitting someone.

  Hoping he was at least giving them a reason to take cover.

  Marie, meanwhile, was actually reaching her gun back behind her back and doing the same, while screaming at the top of her lungs.

  “Take that, motherfuckers!” she screeched.

  Pete would have laughed at how stupid it was, if he’d had any breath to do it. But he was going to run out of bullets soon—was surprised he wasn’t already out—and knew they were in trouble.

  There were at least one hundred soldiers back there, and many of them were already shooting at them. Every single one of them would have been trained on how to use a gun, and they weren’t going to hesitate when it came to shooting to kill.

  They were outnumbered. They were in trouble.

  And at that moment, with a terrific rumble, the ground started to shake under their feet, the entire world shifting and jolting. Pieces of pavement suddenly shot up out of the parking lot, enormous holes opening in other places as the earth shuddered with a brand new quake.