The Last Sanctuary Omnibus

by Kyla Stone

  Gabriel slammed three bullets into the man’s torso. He went down without a word.

  The black wolf raced past him, chasing down a retriever. Gabriel dashed for Gonzales and knelt beside him, his gun still up, his gaze sweeping the area before darting back to the wounded man. “You okay?”

  “I didn’t know.” Gonzales gasped as he pressed his hand against the bullet wound in his side. His black hair clung damply against his neck. “I swear to you.”

  “I believe you.” It wouldn’t be the first time someone like him had trusted the wrong person.

  A scream rent the air. His heart surged in his chest. He knew that scream, knew that voice.

  “Go,” Gonzales wheezed. “I’ll be fine.”

  Another scream. Gabriel whirled, searching for its source. He saw Silas up and running, Elise on the ground, and Nadira crouching over her. And a dozen yards away, a huge Headhunter draped in a wolf-skin backed toward the bikes, Amelia pressed close to his body, one burly arm around her neck, the other with an activated slasher rod held a few inches from her temple, the plasma crackling like blue fire. The bastard was using her as a human shield. Gabriel’s gut knotted with rage and the first cold tangle of fear.

  “Let her go!” he roared before he even knew he’d spoken.

  The Headhunter spun toward him. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  Amelia whimpered, clawing at the man’s arms, trying to kick at his shins behind her. But she was still weak from her illness, her skin pale, her legs trembling. He was incredibly strong, his muscles barely straining to hold her. She was no more than a mouse to him.

  “I said let her go.” Gabriel advanced across the garden until his feet hit gravel, three yards from Amelia. The tow truck was two dozen yards ahead and to the left. To the right, the parked motorcycles and the woods beyond.

  Micah still fired at the Headhunters in the woods, but Jericho turned his attention to the one holding Amelia hostage. The muzzle of his gun poked out from behind the front fender.

  “Cerberus!” Jericho called. “You’re surrounded. Surrender!”

  The man called Cerberus only smiled. His eyes glittered with malice. His tattoos seemed to slither over his arms and neck. “You can kill me, but I promise you this. You will lose something in the exchange.”

  Sweat dripped into Gabriel’s eyes. He steadied his hands and kept his weapon trained on the spot between Cerberus’s eyes. He could make the shot. Any day of the week, he could make that shot.

  But maybe not today, when the stakes were so high. A single tap from that slasher would send electrified plasma melting through flesh and bone to fry her brain.

  “This one is quite valuable,” Cerberus continued. He took a step backward, toward the bikes, dragging Amelia with him. “I daresay she might be the most valuable human alive at this moment. Wouldn’t you?”

  “If she’s so valuable, then you won’t kill her.” He kept his eyes on Cerberus. In his peripheral vision, Jericho crept out from behind the tow truck, Micah providing cover. If he could keep him talking, Jericho could sneak up behind him and take him out.

  Cerberus’s smile widened. “A resource only holds value if you’re able to utilize it. What good is she to me if I’m dead?”

  “She could be the key to the cure. She could save mankind.”

  Cerberus rolled his eyes. “A bit hyperbolic, don’t you think? Besides, should mankind truly be saved? From what? Isn’t it better this way? We’re all free now to pursue our own desires. We can create this world anew and bend it to our own purpose. Isn’t that the definition of liberty?”

  Gabriel’s jaw tightened. He kept his gaze on the Headhunter’s face, but he saw Jericho out of the corner of his eye, slinking soundlessly behind Cerberus, a wicked blade held low in his right hand.

  “You’re full of crap,” Gabriel said. “Her life is more important than your death, much as I’d like to put you down like the dog you are. Release her and I’ll let you go.”

  Jericho crept within five steps when Cerberus tensed, somehow sensing a trap. He half-turned, jerking Amelia with him, the plasma crackling an inch from her skull. A few of her hairs curled and singed.

  The Headhunter glared at Jericho. “Move any closer, and you can watch her brains turn to mush and leak out of her ears.”

  But he was distracted now, his attention torn between Gabriel and Jericho. He had none left for Amelia. And that would be his destruction.

  Gabriel locked eyes with Amelia. Her eyes were scared, but they were not crazed or wild. She might be physically weak, but this was still the same girl who’d kept her head as a hostage, who’d faced her father and defeated Kane. Her eyes shone with the same focused strength he’d fallen for on the Grand Voyager.

  For an instant, he was back in the Oceanarium, Amelia kneeling in front of him with a blade to his throat, her gaze spearing straight to his soul, completely undoing him. She’d been strong enough to spare him, to trust him.

  He’d been the weak one. He still was. Gabriel couldn’t do a thing to alter the past, but he’d be damned if he let her die now. He sent her an unspoken message with his eyes, willing her to understand. She did. She saw what he meant to do, and she nodded with the faintest tilt of her chin.

  “Not a step closer!” Cerberus’s grip on her neck slipped a bit, the slasher tilting a few inches away from the side of her head.

  Amelia reached up behind her and clawed Cerberus’s face. He grunted and tried to jerk free, but she was too close. Her nails dragged across his eyeballs.

  Gabriel lunged, barreling into Amelia and knocking her from Cerberus’s grasp. She fell to the ground and rolled frantically out of the way. Gabriel stumbled once, then he was on his feet again, crouching and spinning toward the Headhunter.

  But Cerberus was faster.

  Gabriel made a fatal error. He’d misjudged his attacker’s speed based on his size. But Cerberus’s movements were agile and lightning quick. He jerked the pulse gun from his holster and aimed it at Gabriel’s skull.

  He was too close to miss. Gabriel couldn’t do a damn thing.

  He froze, waiting for the pulse of the laser, for the explosion of boiling-hot pain, the bittersweet agony of death. Cerberus’s lips curled into a cruel smile as he pulled the trigger.

  A body hurled itself in front of Gabriel. He felt a heavy, warm weight. Something soft crumpled against him. They both collapsed to the ground.

  Another shot fired at close range. His ears rang. Everything went dull and distant. As if in a daze, he saw Cerberus stumble, red blooming from his shoulder. Two more Headhunters ran up to protect their leader, their guns blazing, forcing Jericho to dive for cover.

  The battle shifted away from Gabriel as the Headhunters fled for their bikes.

  He turned to the form crumpled next to him, his heart in his throat. Gently, he rolled the body over. Nadira stared up at him, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

  Gabriel lifted Nadira gingerly in his arms, cradling her, and ran for cover behind the wall of the first residence hall. He felt wetness on his arms. Blood dripped a trail in the grass.

  A husky lurched at him, jowls dripping with red foam. It limped from a bullet wound to the hindquarters. Gabriel kicked it hard in its wounded leg. It slunk away, searching for easier prey.

  Gabriel propped her up against the wall, his hands trembling. He gently tugged up her shirt. Blood leaked from the tiny hole in her chest. Tendrils of hair clung to her damp forehead. Her face was ashen, her lips tinged purple. In her right hand, she clutched her pale blue headscarf.

  “Why?” he blurted, stunned.

  She sucked in a shallow, ragged breath. “You needed help.”

  “You should’ve let me die!”

  “When I die, I know where I am going.”

  “What does that matter?” He pressed his hands over her wet shirt, his fingers slick with blood. Even as he did it, he knew it wouldn’t matter. Her wound was too severe, too deep. If they were near a hospital, with robotic sur
geons and cell rejuvenation procedures and instant flesh grafts, maybe things would be different. But they weren’t.

  There was nothing to be done.

  “I have peace, Gabriel.” She coughed. Blood bubbled from her lips. “But you—you are lost.”

  He rocked back on his heels. “I am—not a good person. You know what I am.”

  “I know . . . that you deserve a chance . . . at redemption. Everyone does.”

  Far above him, vultures circled in the sky. The sun drifted behind a cloud. She gazed at him with those huge dark eyes. He felt his black heart cracking open. “I deserve nothing. I deserve death.”

  “Sometimes—we don’t get what we deserve.” She smiled weakly at him. “Sometimes, we get what we don’t deserve.”

  He shook his head, his eyes burning. “This isn’t right. It’s not how things are supposed to be. You’re—you’re good. You’re not supposed to die. You can’t die. Not—not for me.”

  Nadira reached out and touched the side of his face. “I am not afraid.”

  The sun was shining, but all he saw was darkness. “No! Don’t do this!”

  But she was no longer listening.

  After she died, he drew her into his arms, this girl he barely knew. She was light, her limbs soft and limp. Her head nestled against his chest and her dark hair spilled over his forearm. He held her, weeping for things he never even knew he’d lost.

  37

  Micah

  Micah stood inside the cafeteria kitchen’s walk-in pantry. He stared down at Harmony, the woman who’d betrayed them. Jericho and Willow stood on one side of him, with Finn, Amelia, and Silas on the other. Silas trained a rifle on her, just in case.

  The battle was over. Seven Headhunters were killed. Six had escaped, including Cerberus. After they’d put the remaining dogs down, he’d looked for the girl and the wolf to thank them. The girl spoke to Willow for a few moments, but then she faded back into the trees, her wolf becoming a shadow among shadows, like they’d never existed in the first place.

  As much as he would have liked to, he didn’t have the time or energy to search for them. Not after everything their group had just lost.

  Gonzales hadn’t made it. Three other Sweet Creek people were dead, two bitten by infected dogs, and two more wounded but likely to live. Horne was shot in the outer thigh, but the wound was shallow. The bullet exited cleanly. Mrs. Lee tended to him in the infirmary.

  But the Headhunters had kidnapped Elise. And sweet, kind Nadira was dead.

  Micah gazed down at Harmony, his eyes burning. His heart felt hollowed out. Part of him wanted to curl up and weep, but he couldn’t. Not yet. This awful day hadn’t ended yet.

  After it was over, they’d found her cowering inside the walk-in pantry with Benjie and Gracie huddled beside her. In a surprising move, Celeste offered to watch the children without a single complaint. They didn’t need to be a part of this.

  Harmony sat stiffly on a large barrel, her spine straight, her hands folded in her lap. Her gray hair shone beneath the single bulb hung from the ceiling. The wooden shelves behind her were lined with bags of rice, clumps of dried herbs, jarred preserves, and baskets of onions and potatoes. The air smelled of flour and garlic.

  Gabriel stormed in, blood on his hands and clothes, fury contorting his face. He held a pistol in one hand; in his other, he gripped Nadira’s hijab, now only a limp scrap of fabric.

  He leveled the pistol at Harmony’s head. “You! You sold us out! Nadira is—she’s dead—because of you!”

  Harmony recoiled, her face blanching. “I didn’t intend for anyone to die.”

  Gabriel’s hand shook. But when he spoke, his voice was low and deadly calm. “I’m going to kill you now.”

  Micah pushed Gabriel aside and leapt in front of the woman. He turned and faced his brother, holding out his hands to block him. Be good. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind. He couldn’t allow any more killing. Not now, when there was no need. It was over. “No one else is dying today.”

  Gabriel’s mouth twisted. “Get out of my way.”

  “No! This isn’t justice.”

  “A life for a life is justice!”

  “One more death on your hands isn’t going to give you peace.”

  Gabriel seethed. “Who said anything about peace?”

  Micah shot Jericho a look. “You aren’t going to stop this?”

  Jericho’s eyes glimmered darkly. “Maybe we make our own justice, now.”

  “No! I don’t believe that. You don’t believe that, either. We have to be better. We are better!” Micah stared at each person in the group. He wasn’t backing down this time. Sometimes violence was necessary. He understood that. He willingly accepted the cost. But this was different. “Defending ourselves is one thing. This is an execution.”

  “He’s right,” Finn said. “This is wrong.”

  “You don’t get a say, pansy-ass,” Silas spat. “You’re a spineless coward, too weak to do what needs to be done.”

  “No.” Micah’s eyes never left his brother’s face. “Mercy is not weakness. Compassion is not weakness. We don’t have to turn into murderers, Gabriel. We have a choice!”

  Jericho sighed and put his hand on Gabriel’s arm. “Your brother is right. Stand down.”

  For a moment, Gabriel hovered on the razor edge of violence. Then the fight went out of his eyes. He lowered the gun, his shoulders slumping. “She just—she jumped in front of me,” he said dully. “There was nothing I could do.”

  Grief and regret distorted his features. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, like he was watching a different, more terrible scene playing out in front of him.

  Pity struck Micah with such force it stole his breath. Whatever sins his brother had committed, he felt genuine anguish over Nadira’s death. Part of him wanted to wrap his brother in his arms and whisper, Always. “I know.”

  Jericho took Gabriel’s gun from his limp hand and led Gabriel out of the pantry. At the door, Jericho glanced back at Micah and Silas. “You’ve got this.”

  Micah nodded, appreciating the trust and responsibility Jericho put in him. He turned to Harmony and shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It’s time to talk.”

  “We need answers,” Amelia said. “And you’re going to give them to us.”

  “I’ll tell you anything,” Harmony blurted, her face ashen. “Please. My granddaughter needs me.”

  Willow stepped forward. She glared balefully at Harmony. “You stole my brother!”

  Harmony’s left eye twitched. “I could give him a good life here. He could grow up with another child his own age, a sister—”

  “I’m his sister!” Willow shook, the tendons standing out on her neck.

  “—He would be safe,” Harmony finished.

  “You mean safety bought and paid for by killers!”

  The woman winced, but she did not look away. “I . . . I did what I had to do.”

  Willow made a strangled sound deep in her throat. Her blood-stained hands hung limply at her sides. She was exhausted and stressed.

  “Willow,” he said gently. “Do you need to be here right now?”

  Finn put his arm around her shoulder. She tried to shrug him off at first, but he held on. “Benjie needs us, okay?”

  She sagged against him and nodded. He led her out of the room.

  Amelia looked at Micah, her expression tense, her eyes flashing. He’d never seen her so visibly angry. “Is it my turn yet?”

  “Just don’t kill her,” he said grimly.

  Amelia turned to Harmony. “Where the hell did they take my mother?”

  “You can’t go after her. They have hundreds more men.”

  “Where is she?”

  “You need to leave. You aren’t safe here.”

  “That’s not what I asked you!”

  “I don’t know where their compounds are!” Harmony said. “No one knows. But they’ll come back with even more men. They’ll come for you.”

 
Micah squatted in front of her. He forced his voice to remain calm. “We understand the danger, Harmony. But we need your help. I think you owe it to us, don’t you?”

  She hunched her shoulders, but her eyes were still defiant. “You were taking Amelia to a research facility to find a cure. The Headhunters were doing the same thing. They say the Sanctuary has the best surviving medical research team, made up of former members of the CDC. It’s where she needs to go. But if I traded with the Headhunters, we’d both win.”

  “What did you trade for us?” Amelia’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “What was worth my mother? Nadira? Me?”

  Harmony’s eyes shone with unshed tears. She spread her hands and stared at her bright orange nail polish, still perfectly manicured, without a crack or blemish. “Antivirals for my nephew.”

  Micah narrowed his eyes. “Antivirals are useless against the Hydra Virus. The government even admitted that much on the newsfeeds.”

  She shook her head. “Not those. Different ones. Ones manufactured at the Sanctuary. It’s not a cure, but it delays the spread of the disease.”

  Micah stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Why do you think most of the Headhunters don’t wear personal protection gear or respiratory masks?”

  “Because they’re already infected,” Micah said slowly as understanding dawned on him. He and Amelia exchanged perplexed glances. What did that mean?

  “A few are immune—I’m certain Cerberus is. That’s how he took control of the gang so easily. Before the virus, he was only a henchman. I know many of the others are infected. But the antivirals they trade for with the Sanctuary keep them asymptomatic—and alive. I don’t know how long they last. Cerberus says indefinitely.”

  “And those are the ones you needed,” Micah said.

  “Yes.” A single tear trickled down her lined cheek. “My nephew Carson is dying. Those antivirals could save his life, give us time until a real cure is found. I’ve lost my daughter, my husband, and my grandson. I—I couldn’t lose anyone else.”