Pete shook his head. Leave it to Marie to think they’d be able to talk their way out of a situation where men with guns actively wanted to shoot them. He still didn’t know why these guys had thought they should be arrested when they first got to town, but that had definitely been the standing opinion.
He figured they were lucky that soldier back at the base had shot Jack rather than either of them.
Though that gave him another idea.
“I don’t think we’re going to be able to just talk our way out of it, kid,” he whispered back. “Guys with guns don’t usually want words. In case you hadn’t noticed. But the fact that they shot Jack and not us makes me think that they want us for something. We have some kind of value to them.”
Maybe they could take advantage of that. If they could figure out what that value was.
Marie snorted, though she kept it quiet. “If we have value to them, why are they treating us like fucking prisoners?”
Because that value doesn’t depend on either of us still being whole or healthy, he didn’t tell her, having seen that sort of thing before with the military. No, he’d never been in any of the other branches, and had certainly never been part of a POW or hostage situation.
But he knew enough to know how things like that worked.
He knew Marie well enough to know that if he expressed his thoughts, though, she’d do something stupid and reckless. So he kept quiet and went back to trying to figure out how to get out of this mess.
At that moment, though, they got to the gates of the compound and his thoughts were cut off by someone new showing up on the scene. Someone who held himself like he was really important, and had a gleam in his eye that told Pete pretty clearly that this guy wasn’t entirely there upstairs.
No, if he was judging this guy correctly, he was the kind of guy who shot first and asked questions later.
And probably didn’t feel at all bad about it if that meant people died.
“General Nolan, sir!” the kid right behind him shouted out, coming to an abrupt stop and yanking Pete to a stop as well.
Pete swallowed slowly. So, this guy was a general, and he was looking at them like they were bugs under his shoes.
When he turned his eyes to the right, to see who else was there, he recognized one of the guards from Mueller. One of the (many) guys who’d pretended to be on his side and then tried to stab him in the back at the first possible opportunity.
Pete tipped his head, trying to remember the guy’s name and figure out how he’d gotten here and what he could possibly be doing.
Then the guy smiled an evil, self-satisfied smile, and Pete remembered. This guy had ended up being one of Clyde’s acolytes—either established or newly recruited when Clyde entered the prison. He’d been trying to help Clyde rile up the prisoners, like so many other guards in that hell hole.
Shit. Things had just gone from bad to even worse, and they weren’t even in the compound yet.
Chapter 23
“Howie,” Marie said quietly. “Didn’t think I’d live to see you again.”
The prison guard leered at her, looking her up and down like he was wondering what she’d taste like. “Tell you the truth, Marie, neither did I. But imagine meeting you here.”
Pete cringed. The ‘”here”’ made it pretty obvious that Howie was in Anchorage because that was where Clyde had told them to go in case of emergency—and that he knew Marie knew it. This guy must have overheard the same prisoners Marie had. Maybe they’d even been together when they overheard that conversation. Or the prisoners—or Clyde—had told him personally.
Whatever it had been, the guy had come to Anchorage to collect. Or turn them in. Or both.
Probably both, given how triumphant he looked at the moment. Though it would have been an awfully big jump for this Howie to assume that Pete and Marie were going to make it here—over hundreds of miles of wilderness, wounded. He couldn’t have come all the way to Anchorage just to tell the soldiers here that the two people who had shown up in a stolen Humvee were trouble.
No, it had to be plain old bad luck. He’d come to get into that warehouse, and happened to be here at exactly the right time to identify them for Nolan.
And wasn’t that just a happy coincidence.
Pete drew his chin up and straightened his shoulders, standing to his fullest height and getting ready. He didn’t know what was coming, but it was definitely going to include some sort of fight. So far, he counted only one ally in this situation, and that ally was handcuffed, just like him.
Big problem.
“General Nolan, is it?” he asked quickly, turning his attention away from Howie—who, he remembered now, he hadn’t bothered to get to know in the prison, because this guy had been a troublemaker and Pete had had bigger fish to fry at the time.
Like Clyde himself.
General Nolan turned cold blue eyes on Pete and started to scowl. “It is. And you’re Pete Marshall.”
“Lieutenant Pete Marshall,” Pete corrected him, not bothering with a friendly smile. “Of the National Guard.”
Hey, there was nothing wrong with letting this guy know that Pete had been in the military, too. That he knew what it was like to live that life, and that this general—if he really was one—could respect Pete as a fellow member of the military. Unlike the guard standing next to him.
Unfortunately, that all seemed to fly right over Nolan’s head.
He huffed in something that didn’t even try to become a laugh and shook his head. “National Guard doesn’t mean dick around here, sonny boy. Up here, it’s the army or nothing. Ain’t that right?”
A couple of cheers broke out from the men behind him, and Pete felt his shoulders get tense.
Right, so they were those sorts of soldiers. The kind that didn’t respect any other branch of the military—and the kind, he was guessing, that took matters into their own hands the moment it seemed they could do it without facing any repercussions. He’d seen as much on the streets of Anchorage heading into town, and the fact that these soldiers hadn’t actually been out in the streets after the quakes trying to save the people of the city meant that these guys weren’t here to serve the populace.
They were doing something else. Pete had his guesses as to what that might be. For the moment, though, he was going to keep them to himself.
He just shrugged. “Every man has a secret love affair with the branch he signed with, doesn’t he? The NG will always have my heart, I’m afraid. I’m overly loyal like that.”
Translation: I’ll defend the people I care about until the ends of the earth, if you push me.
If Nolan’s even narrower eyes were any indication, he’d heard that undercurrent loud and clear. And it wasn’t making him any friendlier.
Honestly, Pete didn’t give a flying fuck. He already knew what he thought of this guy, and it was nothing good.
“Heard you take your position seriously enough to kill anyone that gets in your way,” Nolan gritted out, making it sound like this was some natural progression in the conversation. “Heard you kill men who aren’t even armed if you decide you don’t like them.”
Now Pete did draw back a little bit, because that wasn’t true of him at all. Sure, he’d fight for the people he loved. But he wasn’t in the habit of killing anyone just for fun. It had never been his MO, and it certainly wasn’t something he went out of his way to do.
Hell, he’d never even been involved in combat with the NG.
Then his blood started to run cold.
He hadn’t been involved in combat until he was sent to Mueller as Clyde’s keeper. Told to deliver the prisoner, make sure he was secure, and then get out of there. Which had seemed well and good until he’d been attacked on the road, then gotten to that prison and found that it was run by someone who was more concerned with the decor in his own offices than the well-being or security of his prisoners.
Getting away from the place had seemed like the best idea possible, and that had been his on
e and only goal. Until the world went insane and they lost power, leading to a revolt from the prisoners and the eventual death of Clyde himself.
The moment he finished that train of thought, everything started to fall into place. The arrest here in town. The way the soldiers had been treating him. The way Nolan himself was looking at him.
Howie’s presence.
“You knew David Clyde,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
He didn’t really need an answer.
But it seemed that Nolan definitely wanted to give him one.
“Sure did,” he said firmly. “Better than knew him. I studied with him for a time. Learned a whole lot about the world and how to survive in it. Learned about the government and how it controls each and every one of us, and what we were going to do about it. Clyde taught us that at some point, that government was going to overstep its bounds. Try to make us all slaves. And he told us exactly what we were going to do about it.”
Pete would have laughed at the irony of it, if he hadn’t been so tense. Clyde had told them that the government was going to make slaves of them, and that they were going to overstep their bounds, and yet this guy was in the army, literally serving his life up to the government like it was a tasty meal.
The irony was so thick he could hardly believe it.
He put that on the list of things he wasn’t going to say out loud, though.
“Clyde was a dangerous man who killed people,” he said quietly. “The government put him away for a reason.”
That seemed to trigger something in Nolan, because suddenly the cold, calm demeanor was gone. The man started pacing, his face growing red and his voice getting louder. “He only did what he had to!” he raged. “And the government put him away because he was a danger to their control. Not because he was wrong. They put him away because he was right!”
“So you bought into his idea of utopia.”
Nolan whirled on him, and for a moment, Pete actually thought the guy was going to hit him. Instead, he just raised his fists and shook them. “Clyde was a visionary. He saw the world the way it was supposed to be. He prepared for it. And then you killed him!”
The last line came out in a furious hiss, and Pete took a step back, shocked at the sheer rage he could see bleeding off Nolan.
God, this guy was just as crazy as Clyde had been. And he was free of handcuffs—and wearing a general’s uniform.
“He came at me,” Pete said. “What was I supposed to do? It was self-defense. Nothing personal.”
Suddenly Nolan was in his face, leaning down so far that Pete could feel the heat of his rage, the tension in his body. “You had no right! I’ve heard what you did, and believe me, I’m going to make sure you pay.” He paused, and then snapped, “Get rid of the woman.”
Through his peripheral vision, Pete saw the guard standing next to Marie grab her and start to drag her away. He could hear her cussing at the guy at the top of her lungs, telling him exactly where he could go and what he could do there, and if Pete knew Marie, she was also figuring out a way to get her fingernails involved, so she could do her best to scratch the guy’s eyes right out.
He hoped she figured out how to do it. Because he wasn’t going to be able to save her right now.
He was too busy staring down the barrel of the general’s handgun.
Chapter 24
Pete had discovered recently that when you were about to die, a number of insane ideas flew into your mind, all at the same time, and almost all of them unhelpful.
He remembered joining up with the National Guard. He remembered the breakup with his last girlfriend. He remembered barbecues with his dad when he was a kid, and how he’d always wanted to turn the hot dogs over and never been allowed to.
He remembered walking into the jail and meeting Marie, who he’d thought was such a waste of time that he’d wished for most of that first day that she’d never existed.
He’d been wrong about her, because she’d actually turned out to be clever and a pretty useful person to have along with him. Sure, she’d made some really stupid mistakes and gotten them into a load of trouble, but she’d also saved his life.
More than once.
And now it would be too late to do anything about it.
Luckily, his body wasn’t quite as ready to jump off the mortal coil as his mind evidently was, and the moment he heard the safety click off on the gun, his body reacted. He ducked and rolled, throwing himself into the motion and getting the hell out of there as quickly as he could.
Yeah, he knew the guy had a gun and would just turn and shoot again. But at least this way he’d be running—or fighting—rather than standing there waiting for it.
The moment he came up out of the roll, he whirled, ready to jump at the guy and take him down.
Then a shot rang out, taking the general down for him. He saw Nolan’s eyes, tense with fury and intent, go wide with sudden shock, and then fade quickly. Moments later, his body was falling to the ground, slumped and limp the way you only got when you were either dead or knocked out.
Dead.
A second after the general hit the snow, Pete’s eyes darted up to where he thought the shot had come from. What the hell was going on here? Who had a gun now?
To his absolute shock—and horror—he saw that it was Marie. The soldier who’d had her was at her feet, evidently unconscious, and Marie was standing with what Pete assumed was his gun. The nose of it was still steaming in the frigid air from the shot she’d just made.
Her eyes were enormous. Hell, she looked like this was the first time she’d ever shot a gun in her life.
It wasn’t, he knew. He’d seen her kill a deer on the road, and since then, she’d been handling a gun like a pro. But this was the first time she’d shot a real live human, and that left a mark.
Pete would know.
He ducked down and started running for her, intent on only two things: getting to Marie and getting them the hell out of this compound. Again. Because they definitely couldn’t stay here now.
She’d just shot their god damned general.
He sprinted forward, his eyes on hers telling her to stay where she was and get down on the ground before anyone else figured out what had just happened. If he knew young soldiers, they’d all be likely to run right to their general before they bothered with anything like where the bullet that took him down had come from, and that might give them the time they needed to escape.
If she stayed still. If she waited for him.
Her eyes narrowed at that exact moment, taking in his sprint toward her and his gaze. The one that was telling her to get down and wait for him.
Then she darted behind the half-wall that she was standing next to and popped up from behind it, the gun up in front of her and her eyes on the people around them.
Pete could hear the shouting now, too. The men were starting to figure out what was happening, and he was only halfway to Marie. He could hear shouts that told people to stop him, shoot him, kill him, and he knew it was only a matter of time until someone with a gun started paying attention and doing what the others were telling him to. He crouched over and increased his pace, breathing as shallowly as he could and willing his body to greater speeds. But the snow was making it really fucking hard to run, and God, why hadn’t the National Guard given them better, lighter, more supportive boots when they were handing out goods? Didn’t they realize that running in these things was almost impossible?
He heard more shouting from behind him and realized that the soldiers were actively chasing him now. And they weren’t nearly as far behind him as he would have liked for them to be. Though he was probably lucky—in fact, he was definitely lucky—that they were just chasing him rather than shooting at him the way they could have been.
He didn’t know why they weren’t using their guns. But he was damn glad they weren’t.
He pushed himself forward even faster, his eyes on the wall Marie was hiding behind and his brain already going through the st
eps he was going to take when he got there. Get the gun from her. Turn around and shoot anyone close to them. Then start picking off the people he thought were the leaders of the group.
Try to find a space of time where they could turn tail and run. Again.
His eyes moved up and met Marie’s at that moment, and he saw the knowledge there that he wasn’t going to make it. There were too many people behind him, and the wall where Marie was sheltering was too far away. Her face grew tense and bleak, like she was horrified at what was about to happen.
And then her eyes narrowed and turned past his shoulder, to whoever was chasing him at the time. She brought the gun up, brought it steady, and pulled the trigger.
Just as another shot went off from behind him, exploding through the screams and shouts of the soldiers.
A split second later, the world around him exploded.
Chapter 25
He woke up handcuffed to the bed he was laying on, and for a very long few moments, all he could do was wonder how the hell he was even still alive. He remembered running through the snow, striving with everything in him to get to Marie, who was on the other side of the wall.
She had a gun. She was shooting at people.
People behind him were shooting back. Or at least someone had. But he hadn’t thought they were aiming at her. Instead, he’d been sure they were aiming at him.
He’d been expecting to feel the bullet tear through his skin at any moment, breaking everything in front of it and ending his life.
And then, instead, the world had exploded.
And part of his brain—the part that kept ticking even when his conscious brain had turned off—had assumed that he was dead. It had assumed that when you died from a bullet tearing through your head, it felt like the world exploded, and with nothing else to compare death to, that was what his brain had given him.
So how the hell had he woken up here, in what looked to be some sort of hospital, with his hand bound to the rail on the side of his bed?
Stone Cold Fear | Book 3 | Ice Burn Page 13
