by Ryan Schow
They managed to find another house three doors down that didn’t have a locked metal screen door and was vacant. The way it felt, though, the whole block was vacant. Nick was sure that wouldn’t be the case, but it still felt good thinking about the potential anonymity. Exposure equaled risk and right now, they’d risked enough.
“You should stay here, get some rest,” Nick told Bailey.
“Hell no, I’m going with you guys,” she said.
“Weapon’s check,” Marcus said. “Just in case.”
Marcus had five rounds and a fresh magazine. Bailey had three rounds in the shotgun, but six more on her person. She loaded her weapon. Nick had two rounds left and two fresh magazines. They also had two bottles of water between them and two cans of navy beans, which they ate for energy.
“You guys ready?” Marcus said.
“I feel like I have to take a crap,” Nick said, suddenly nervous.
“It’s because there’s so much at stake,” Marcus said. “It’s just nerves. Let’s go.”
“What if he really has to go?” Bailey said.
“Don’t nurture him,” Marcus said, irritated, “he’s not a child.”
Marcus wasn’t the only one at the end of his rope. They were all exasperated. Before they left, Nick told them they were about three miles from the school. When they were within a couple of blocks, they heard the start of gunfire. By the time they hit Fell and Ashbury, they saw the glowing light of fire in the sky.
Nick broke into a run, gun out, Marcus hot on his heels, Bailey trying to keep up. At Hayes, they saw the college. The front doors were opening and three men in the street opened fire on the school. Marcus and Nick rolled up on their six, took all three down with four shots. Next thing they knew, the guys pouring out of the school had guns on them.
“We’re friendlies,” Marcus said, hands in the air. “We just put these three down for you.”
The guns came down and a good looking woman who reminded Nick of Sarah Connor from the second Terminator movie got the kids moving.
“Is there an Indigo Platt here?” Nick asked.
“Who’s asking?” the woman said, coming near Nick, Marcus and now Bailey.
“Is she here?” Nick asked again, his breath high in his throat, his eyes starting to water in anticipation of a near breakdown.
“She’s on the other side of the school. If you can’t tell, we’re under attack here.” Nick started to go after her, but she said, “Wait!”
He stopped and turned around, everything inside him pulling him toward his daughter.
“Nick?” a familiar voice said, stopping him. He turned and saw the blonde woman standing in the mix of moonlight and firelight.
“Yes?” he said, his voice trembling now, his hand shaking.
She came closer, saw him, then ran and sucked him into a giant hug and started crying. He didn’t expect this. Not at all. For all the times he’d dreamt of this, for all the times he’d lamented the loss of her, he never expected to see his ex-wife again.
“Margot,” he said, tears standing in his eyes, “I’m so happy you’re alive.”
“She’s going to be so glad to see you,” Margot cried. “She thought you were dead. We both didn’t want to think that, but it’s been so long, we just…we didn’t know what to do.”
“It’s been beyond brutal getting back here,” he said, suddenly concerned about having both Margot and Bailey in the same proximity as each other, not to mention the war going on all around them...
“We need to get to safety,” Margot said. “This was our home, but now…it’s not going to survive the night.”
“We have a place you can go,” Marcus said, stepping up. “Bailey, can you take them back to that park we saw back there? Keep them safe until we can get back?”
“Yeah,” Bailey said, even though it was clear she didn’t want to separate from them. “Let’s go—”
“Margot,” the woman said, “Margot Platt.”
“I’m Bailey James,” she said, knowing exactly who she was. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
More gunfire was erupting from high up on the roof. Nick gave Bailey a quick kiss on the lips, then said, “Stay safe at all costs.”
“Nick, baby, I have a bad feeling,” she said, her voice pleading, her body as rigid as he’d ever seen.
Both of them were ignoring Margot, who stood there in silence and shock. As if she thought she could leave Nick and he wouldn’t find love again. He felt bad for her for a second. But only a tad bit sad.
“I know,” Nick said, holding Bailey’s hand. “I have that same bad feeling.”
He kissed her one last time then put his lips to her ear and said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said, the tears springing to her eyes. She wiped them one last time before he left then said, “You’d better come back to me.”
“I promise I will,” he said.
When he left, when he saw the absolute nightmare he and Marcus were running toward, he had a puckering of his own. That really bad feeling he had just got about a hundred times worse. He hadn’t broken a promise to Bailey before, but right then he couldn’t help thinking there was a first time for everything.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Indigo was first out the door, bow in hand, arrow seated on the bow string. A Molotov Cocktail came flaming out of the air right at her. It exploded at the wall just to her left, shards of glass hitting her arms and the side of her face, flaming alcohol splashing the side of her.
She immediately caught fire.
Sloughing off her bow and quiver of arrows, she dropped to the ground and rolled on the affected area, then immediately felt Rex pulling her over, patting out the remaining fire in swift, frenzied movements.
People were running past her because more of these flaming bottles were sailing overhead and striking the sides and the top of the building. Sniper fire crack, crack, cracked from the top of the roof as all hell broke loose.
Indigo scrambled to her feet, grabbed her weapons and said, “Go!”
Rex said, “You sure?”
“Of course I am!” she said, looking at him as if being on fire was no big thing.
Rider, Jagger and Stanton were at the courtyard wall, armed and itching to go. All they needed was a brief lull in the action. Rex joined them, followed by Indigo who acted like nothing had happened.
“You alright?” Jagger asked.
“It’s like a sunburn,” she said, waving him off.
When they hit that lapse in action, Rider drew back the gate and the five of them poured out into the street. That’s when Rider pointed into the dim shadows across the street and said, “Who the hell are they?”
Two men were moving up the sidewalk, crouched, armed and moving like military.
“Can’t say for sure,” Rex said. “But they look like they’re not with them.”
“Does that mean they’re with us?” Stanton asked.
“I guess,” Rider answered, breaking into a run. “Just keep an eye on them!”
Just then, three guys came at the two strangers and in seconds the two men put all three down by gunfire. Rider and the team spread the distance between themselves by a few feet, then triple-timed it up the side of the street opposite their two mystery troopers.
Rider pulled up short when they saw about thirty men standing the next block up sling-shotting Molotov Cocktails through the air. They were using two man sling shots that looked like the old water balloon launchers.
Unbelievable.
Everyone pulled up behind him, but said nothing.
Five against thirty, Indigo thought. Or maybe seven against thirty, if the two mystery men turned out to be solid, which was what it was looking like.
Various combat scenarios took shape in her mind. She felt her resolve tightening as the stakes climbed. By those numbers, she was responsible for six kills, five if she was honest with herself. Eyes taking in everything, her heart big and ready for war, she was resolute t
hat she would take out six.
A barrage of three or four or five flaming bottles soared overhead, exploding into the college walls and windows by the sound of it. There was an orange glow in the sky where the college was. The sight of that glow sent waves of sickness crashing through Indigo. Chewing her molars, setting her jaw, she vowed a swift and brutal reprisal, a no-holds-barred retaliation for what was happening.
“That’s our home,” Indigo growled.
Rex stood there quietly. She knew exactly what he was thinking. He was going to gut these idiots before sunrise. If she could help it, she’d join him.
Taking aim at the morons up the street, Indigo launched a series of arrows in, hitting each of her targets as planned. The two mystery men across the street saw the panicked flurry of activity by the enemy, along with several men going down.
They used the distraction to attack. Rider followed, the team fast on his heels.
Indigo moved quickly, every so often her eyes darting over to the two guys moving swiftly through the shadows. The lead was a big man with what looked like a beard. He’d moved out from behind the burnt Buick they were crouched behind, and dipped into the shadows cast by the buildings against the moonlight.
His partner, a smaller man with longish hair, followed him, matching the big man’s pace. Rider also matched their pace, moving with them into the faint light of a line of guys sling-shotting these ragtag bombs at the school and now at them.
One Molotov Cocktail shot like a line drive past them to where Indigo had been a moment before. This startled them because a shot like that straight to the face or body was bound to kill then burn.
As that same guy was lighting another rag inside another bottle, Indigo took aim, waited until the lighter had the slingshot pulled nearly all the way back, then loosed the arrow. It zipped through the air, hit the top of the bottle and struck the kid in the chest. He let go of the band at the same time the glass exploded, launching glass bits, flame and accelerant all over the two men holding either side of the gigantic sling shot.
Three people now caught fire, drawing some serious praise from her team. “Good God, I didn’t know how good you were with that thing,” Jagger said.
“She’s surgical,” Rex said.
The bearded mystery man and his partner opened fire on the remaining teams of shooters. The four men raced in for support, but Indigo hung back, sending in four arrows, each striking her prey, but none of them exactly where she wanted.
Things were moving too fast.
Since she left home, and Dirt Alley, she’s been lax on her practice, and now she was feeling it. Throwing her bow over her shoulder, locking it in, she drew her hunting knife and ran in to complete the kills. She would have her six kills and then some.
Under the wave of what briefly resembled some brutal, medieval violence, guys were being beaten, stabbed and shot to death. One of the guys lighting the Molotov Cocktails took a round to the chest. He dropped the lit bottle he was trying to throw at Rider, which exploded. He dropped to his knee into the flames where he immediately caught fire. Screaming, his entire body being swept under the flame, he managed to stagger to his feet. Rider drilled him with two quick and merciful shots to his head, putting him out of everyone’s misery.
By then, Indigo was wading into the sea of dead and dying bodies with her knife bared, sticking everything still moving, everything still alive. Stanton was on the other side of the street, looking like a madman as he did the same thing.
When the last of this force of degenerates died in the street like a dog, they all stood in reverent silence, looking at the carnage they’d created.
Rex startled everyone when he said, “We’ve got company!”
Indigo tore one of her arrows from the dead, got hit with a splash of bloody residue—which she didn’t bother wiping away—then dropped to a knee and unleashed eight arrows on the mob of fresh soldiers.
Rex grabbed her by the arm, pulled her up and said, “Get to cover!”
A barrage of gunfire erupted as they ran for cover.
Within minutes, she started hearing the guys saying, “I’m out!”
She and Rex were tucked into the shadows of a dark, but shallow alcove. Rex made sure his body was in front of hers. He fired off two more rounds and then his slide popped.
“I’m out, too,” he groused. “I’m out and we’re screwed with an F.”
Indigo peeked her head out. Saw Rider and Stanton behind an old car a few yards up, and everyone else in alcoves similar to hers and Rex’s.
Much of the new wave of young soldiers had been dispensed of as evidenced by the number left standing. She counted seven men, all armed, all firing on the guys. One turned, fired and a bullet caught the stucco in front of her, blowing off shards of plaster. He was a tall black man, lithe and steely eyed from what she could see.
Indigo jerked her head back, managed to avoid any more damage to her face. She touched her cheek, pulled away blood. Maybe it was hers, maybe it was blood from earlier.
“What are you doing?!” Rex hissed.
“Getting a peek at the landscape,” she said, cool to the letter.
“Well don’t,” he hissed. “We got this.”
“You haven’t got squat,” she whispered. “Your gun’s empty.”
With that, she darted out, sprinting for the closest parked car. Gunfire followed her, pocked the asphalt just behind her heels. Safely down, she loaded her bow, drew back, then popped up and let the arrow loose. In rapid fire succession, she loaded, drew back then sent two more flying.
All three struck the black man in the head and heart.
Someone screamed, “Bear!” and then everyone who remained open fired on Indigo.
Seizing on the moment, their two guardian angels rushed the remaining group, zig zagging their way into gunfire. Seemingly, the two psychopaths managed to not get hit. The bearded beast and his sidekick went absolutely haywire on the remaining force. But not before Rider, Jagger, Rex and Stanton joined the mix. The death of the last soldiers was a gruesome slaying that would certainly haunt their dreams, but then it was over.
She stood, walked out into the open and that’s when everything changed. The bearded guy’s friend turned to her, looked at her. She looked back at him. He glanced down at one of the guys with an arrow sticking out of his chest, then he came walking toward her at a rather brisk pace.
“Indigo?” he said.
She knew that voice. Her body stiffened and tears immediately hit her eyes. Standing there in the middle of the street, bow in hand, a few arrows still left in her quiver, the goosebumps rushed down her arms and legs as she tried to process all this.
“Dad?” she said, unable to steady her voice.
He hit her with the kind of hug she couldn’t let go of. She started sobbing right there in the street, gore splashed all over her, her bloodstream shot through with adrenaline, her emotions so scattered and rattled she couldn’t contain herself anymore.
“Oh my God, Indigo,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. He pulled back, brushed her hair off her face and said, “It’s really you. Oh my God, baby, it’s really you!”
She couldn’t let go, didn’t want to.
“I thought you were dead,” she cried in a hiccupping, shaky tone. “I thought you were gone.”
Suddenly Rex was there, too.
“Nick?” he said. Rex didn’t know her father, but she told him so much about the man they might as well have been best friends.
“Yes?” he said.
“Oh man,” Rex said. “This is one for the books! I’m Rex, and I’m damn glad to meet you!”
The men gathered around the two of them, forcing Indigo to let go of her dad. Nick and Marcus introduced themselves to the group, who thanked them for stepping in.
Marcus said, “We caught your people coming out the front and sent them to the park. We’ve got a friendly in there, woman named Bailey, and the guys that are lying dead in the street, we put them down as they were firi
ng on your people.”
“Thank you,” Rider said, shaking the big man’s hand.
“Do you have someplace else to stay?” Marcus asked. “Because unless you’ve got some marshmallows or a pack of weenies, there’s nothing left to do but watch the whole building burn.”
“That was our home,” Jagger said. “We didn’t expect this, so we don’t have a Plan B.”
“Yet,” Stanton said.
“There are some houses back in our neighborhood,” Nick said, clearing his throat. “We’ve got a woman and seven kids we have to get back to, but there are empty houses all around her. It’s not as defensible as the college might have been, but the neighborhood looks vacant.”
“You’ve been home?” Indigo said.
“That’s how we found you,” he said, pulling her into a sideways hug. “You left the note and the address.”
“Thank God she did,” Rex said. “You guys really made the difference.”
“Did anyone see Gunderson?” Rider asked.
No one answered.
“He was telling the truth about the attack, but he was wrong on the time,” Stanton said. In the moonlight, Indigo thought she could see blood spatter all over Macy’s dad. She looked at him a long time, hardly able to recognize this man. He’d changed so much in the last couple of months. The guy was a warrior, every bit as savage as Marcus, Jagger or Rex.
“Yeah, well maybe the timeline threw him, too,” Rex said. “Or maybe he got caught.”
“You know what we have to do,” Rider said, looking gravely serious. “We have to finish this.”
“We don’t have any ammo,” Stanton said.
“We can get their guns and ammo,” Indigo said. “And I have arrows.”
“You’re not going,” Rex said, stern. “You’re done.”
Her father looked at Rex, who was looking at her, and she was making those eyes, the ones that said, not now.
“You want to tell him?” Rex asked. Now she was frowning. This was hardly the time for her to surprise him since she still wasn’t sure if he was real.
