Aftershock

by Jill Sorenson

  He made no move to detain her. When she was almost out of earshot, she heard him slam his fist into the door of the semi.

  In anger, self-loathing or frustration, she couldn’t say.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  GARRETT REUNITED WITH OWEN and Don in front of the motor home.

  They hadn’t seen him arguing with Lauren. He’d made sure they were out of sight. But she’d probably looked angry as she walked by. Her disheveled hair and just-kissed mouth must have given him away.

  Shit.

  Don’s eyes twinkled. “Didn’t convince her, did ya?”

  “She knows we’re not going just for water.”

  A cry of pain rang out from the RV, interrupting their conversation. It was Penny, having another contraction. She quieted after a few seconds, but the chill stayed in the air. Lauren had told them that her labor might last hours. Although they couldn’t help deliver a baby, they could make a safer environment for it to be born.

  Garrett wanted to go now. “Are we ready to do this?”

  “I’m ready,” Owen said.

  “How are your arms?”

  “Not too bad. They’ll probably be worse tomorrow.”

  That was good, because Garrett needed Owen’s upper-body strength today. They put dark jackets over their light-colored shirts and gathered a cache of weapons. The arsenal included a hunting knife, a crowbar, a hammer and a baseball bat.

  “I have a question,” Owen said, moistening his lips. “Well, maybe it’s more of a comment.”

  “What?”

  “Trying to knock them out and tie them up will be dangerous. If I have to hit Mickey with my hammer, I won’t hesitate.”

  Garrett looked at Don, who glanced toward the dark corner, his brow furrowing. Garrett didn’t want murder to be the first option, but he understood where Owen was coming from. “Do whatever it takes.”

  “You’ll use your knife?”

  “Only in self-defense.”

  Owen didn’t seem satisfied by that response.

  “You think we should go for the kill, instead of a knockout?” Don asked.

  After a short hesitation, Owen nodded.

  Don’s brows rose, but not in disapproval. He deferred to Garrett.

  Garrett wasn’t on board with that. “They might be drugged out of their minds. I’m not going to slit their throats while they’re sleeping.”

  “They’d do it to us,” Owen asserted.

  “How do you know?”

  He just shrugged, as if he considered it basic human nature to disregard taking another person’s life.

  Garrett didn’t blame Owen for the skewed view. He was young, and he’d spent his formative adult years in prison. Everything he’d learned about being a man was shaped by that experience.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Garrett said. “Mickey has a broken nose. His vision will be impaired. He’ll probably be disoriented, and unarmed. If he doesn’t resist, there’s no reason to use deadly force.”

  “What about Jeb?”

  “He’s the bigger threat by far. I’ll try to take him down with one swing.”

  “That could be fatal,” Don remarked.

  “Yeah, well. I won’t cry if it is.”

  Owen smiled a little, hooking the hammer in his belt loop. He also grabbed a metal pipe. Don picked up the baseball bat. Garrett kept the knife, and slid the crowbar into the empty camel pack on his back. He wanted to keep his hands free for the approach.

  The plan was simple. They’d sneak toward the enemy camp and surround it. As long as Jeb wasn’t inside the truck, Garrett would strike first. Owen and Don would follow up immediately with an attack on Mickey.

  Silence was key. They couldn’t make a sound before the ambush.

  Under the cover of darkness, they snuck toward Jeb’s corner. As they got closer, Garrett could smell the stolen chili cooking. His stomach growled with hunger. He glanced at Owen, whose pale eyes gleamed like a wild animal’s in the dim light. If Garrett could hazard a guess, he’d say that Owen was willing, at that moment, to kill for food.

  They ducked behind a wall of rubble, the last protective barrier between them and the truck. Garrett peeked over it, studying the scene. They’d made a fire in a hubcap. Jeb was sitting on the tailgate, chowing down. Mickey was slumped over in the passenger seat, snoring.

  Garrett needed to hit Jeb from behind. Once he was disarmed, it didn’t matter which direction Don and Owen came from.

  He crouched down low again, deliberating. The configuration of demolished vehicles was different after last night’s derby. None of the cars were close enough to provide adequate cover. Garrett would have to sneak around the truck and hope Jeb didn’t see him.

  “I’m going to army-crawl over there,” he whispered to Don and Owen. “Stay silent. Don’t do anything until I hit him.”

  They both nodded in understanding.

  Garrett adjusted the crowbar on his back, making sure it was secure. There was nothing like clinking metal to give away your position. He weaved through the shadows until he reached the edge of the wall at the west end. When he could go no farther without catching Jeb’s attention, he dropped to his belly and started crawling.

  The distance between the first blackened vehicle and the second was easy to traverse. He moved as fast as possible, aware that Jeb’s eye might be drawn to the motion. Blood thundering in his ears, he slipped behind the next obstacle.

  Had Jeb spotted him?

  Apparently not, as no gunfire followed in his wake. Garrett craned his neck to look around the wheel well. Jeb was in his direct line of sight, scraping the bottom of the chili can. He tossed aside the trash with a satisfied belch. To Garrett’s amazement, he grabbed a beer from the back of the truck and cracked it open, taking a long pull.

  These bastards still had alcohol.

  Well, good. If Jeb was under the influence, he’d be sluggish and easier to overtake. From this angle, Garrett could see the butt of the gun, shoved into the waistband of Jeb’s prison-issue blue jeans.

  There was one more car between Garrett and the pickup. It was just a burned-out frame, offering very little cover. But there was nothing else to hide behind.

  Pulse racing, he bolted into the open space, edging along the debris-strewn asphalt. Although he tried to move silently, the tips of his boots scraped the grit. Sharp pebbles bit into his knees and elbows, making him wince. It seemed to take forever to reach the next car frame. When he did, he felt dangerously exposed.

  He stretched as flat as possible, his heart hammering against the cold concrete. Jeb took another chug of beer, oblivious.

  Garrett took a deep breath and psyched himself up for the final stretch. He couldn’t stay here long; he was too vulnerable. Jeb was staring at the embers in the hubcap, and hadn’t glanced in his direction. It was go time.

  As he started crawling again, he made an epic miscalculation. He’d skirted too close to the car frame. The bent end of the crowbar got caught in the front bumper, halting his progress and scraping metal against metal.

  Jeb heard the telltale sound. He leapt to his feet, brandishing the gun.

  Fuck.

  “Who’s there?”

  Garrett couldn’t scramble backward, and he sure as hell couldn’t continue moving forward. Sliding the crowbar free, he rolled underneath the car and waited, breathless, for Jeb to walk toward him.

  * * *

  LAUREN REJOINED PENNY and Cadence in the RV, locki
ng the door behind her.

  Both girls looked scared. Penny was about to give birth under the worst possible circumstances. Cadence’s grandfather had banded with a group of vigilante marauders. The two were huddled on the bed, clasping hands.

  Lauren’s chest tightened at the touching sight. Her feelings for these girls went deeper than professional concern. She’d grown fond of them.

  “Any more contractions?” she asked Penny.

  “Just one.”

  Instead of keeping her distance, Lauren climbed in beside Cadence and covered their linked hands with hers. The closeness felt strange, but good. Reaching out to others in a nonmedical way was unusual for her.

  “My parents do this,” Cadence said, sniffling. “Sometimes, when I have a nightmare, they both hug me until I fall asleep.”

  Lauren’s throat closed up. She hadn’t been allowed to climb into bed with her parents. Her mother had worn a silk eye mask every night, and protected her sleep at all costs. Her father, the more affectionate of the two, had often been away on international flights.

  Thinking back, Lauren’s relationship with Michael had been similar. Due to late shifts and varied schedules, they’d rarely slept together. When he had come home to crash, he’d preferred separate rooms.

  Penny sat forward suddenly, gripping the sheets on the bed. She cried out in pain, her face twisted into a grimace.

  Lauren noted the time and duration of the contraction. It passed quickly. After about twenty seconds, Penny relaxed. She settled into a reclining position, her hands splayed across her huge stomach.

  “Okay now?” Lauren asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Baby still moving around?”

  “Yes. I just felt a kick.”

  Lauren stroked Cadence’s soft hair, pondering her exchange with Garrett. His behavior had disturbed her on many levels. She didn’t like the idea of him taking advantage of her feelings, using her attraction against her. But the kiss hadn’t seemed premeditated. He’d acted as though he couldn’t help himself.

  Again, she wondered what was holding him back. If he had a girlfriend, was their relationship in trouble? Maybe he’d been planning to break things off, but hadn’t. Maybe their love had faded.

  What if they had children together?

  Her stomach clenched with distress. She had to focus on something else. Worrying about Garrett was making her crazy.

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?” Lauren asked Cadence.

  “No. It’s just me.”

  “I have two little sisters,” Penny said. “One is your age.”

  “Eleven?”

  “She just turned twelve. She’s a sweetheart, like you. The other is sixteen and so full of herself.”

  Cadence giggled at the description. “I always wanted a sister. Two sisters, so we could be in a dance group like Destiny’s Child.”

  “You like to dance?” Penny asked.

  She nodded. “I take ballet and hip-hop.”

  “Do you watch ABDC?”

  “All the time! It’s my favorite show.”

  “What show is this?” Lauren asked.

  “America’s Best Dance Crew,” Cadence explained in a rush. “Last season was so amazing. I got the Wii game for Christmas. It’s supercool. My friends come over and we dance to the songs.”

  Lauren tried to remember the last time she’d gone dancing, and couldn’t. Her social life was sadly lacking. Two of her best friends had gotten married last year. One moved away, and the other had a baby. Although Lauren had attended some work functions and family parties in the past few months, it wasn’t the same as a girls’ night out.

  Cadence jumped up to demonstrate a new technique, making Lauren smile. She was so adorable and full of energy. Even Penny, whose mouth was pinched with discomfort, seemed to enjoy the girl’s performance.

  A sharp crack brought the fun to a halt.

  Cady scrambled back toward the bed. “What was that?”

  Lauren put her arms around the trembling girl. Over the top of her hair, she met Penny’s frightened eyes. She wanted to assuage their fears, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “It sounded like a gunshot.”

  * * *

  OWEN WATCHED THE events unfold with disbelief.

  If he didn’t do something, Jeb was going to discover Garrett’s hiding place and open fire. Making a split-second decision, he picked up a chunk of concrete from the pile of rubble and chucked it at Jeb’s head.

  He missed by a few inches.

  The rock bounced off Jeb’s left shoulder. He let out a startled yelp and turned around, swinging the barrel of the gun toward Owen.

  Shit.

  “What the fuck,” Jeb growled.

  Owen ducked down and looked for another rock to throw, but couldn’t find one. Don stared at him, thunderstruck. They were doomed if they stayed where they were. They’d be shot at if they tried to flee.

  Out of options, Owen lifted Don to his feet and shoved him in the opposite direction. “Run!”

  To his credit, Don took off like a lightning bolt. Owen tore after him, hoping like hell that Garrett would use this opportunity to escape. Jeb saw them running, of course, and opened fire. The hard pop of gunshots echoed in his ears as bullets ripped through the cavern. One split the air near Owen’s right arm.

  Ten feet ahead of him, Don cried out and staggered to the ground.

  He’d been hit.

  Owen sailed past him, diving behind a smashed car. Another bullet penetrated the hood and ricocheted around the engine compartment. He covered his head with his arms and waited for more gunshots, his body trembling.

  Don’s face was only a few feet away. His eyes were dark with pain. “Go,” he whispered to Owen.

  “Is he coming?”

  Don looked over his shoulder, wincing. “I can’t see him.”

  Owen didn’t know how many shots Jeb had fired, or how many bullets he had left, but he wasn’t going to abandon Don. Fuck that. His ears were ringing so loud that he couldn’t hear approaching footsteps. He snuck a glance around the side of the car.

  Jeb wasn’t coming.

  Bastard. He must have gone back for Garrett.

  Owen couldn’t do anything about that, so he focused on helping Don. “Where are you hit?”

  “My thigh,” Don said. His face was pale, and he was short of breath. “It’s bad.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Keeping an eye out for Jeb, Owen crawled out from behind the vehicle. “Roll over so I can drag you,” he whispered. Working together, they got Don on his back. Owen grabbed him by the arms and pulled him to relative safety.

  Don’s head lolled to the side as he lost consciousness. His pants leg was ripped above the knee, and soaked in blood.

  Owen didn’t know what to do. He took off his jacket, looking for something to slow the bleeding. Garrett had been carrying rope in his backpack. Panicking, Owen yanked his T-shirt over his head and tore it down the middle. He wrapped the strip of cloth around Don’s thigh and tied it as tight as he could.

  Then he paused, listening for Jeb. There was no gunfire, no footsteps.

  Christ. What a clusterfuck. Could the plan have gone any worse?

  He couldn’t waste time worrying about Garrett, so he started dragging Don away. The old man was heavy. Owen had no idea if he was doing more damage by moving him. He’d heard somewhere that you weren’t supposed to move injured peo
ple. But what else could he do, leave him there for Jeb and Mickey?

  Panting from exertion, Owen focused on getting to the RV. The glow of light from their side of the cavern beckoned him. As he got closer, Owen could see the pallor of Don’s skin and the bright red blood smear in his wake. He went as fast as he could, but the muscles in his arms and back were on fire. When he arrived, he was dripping sweat.

  Lauren burst through the door, her blue eyes wide. “What happened?” she asked, kneeling to examine Don.

  “He’s shot.”

  Cadence ran outside to join them. “Grandpa!” she screamed, hugging his limp form.

  Penny stood in the doorway, her hand on her belly. She looked flushed and scared and miserable.

  “Where’s Garrett?” Lauren demanded.

  “Back there,” Owen said.

  “Did he get shot, too?”

  “I don’t know, but we need to get out of sight.”

  “I’m not leaving my grandpa,” Cadence said. She stared up at Owen, her teeth chattering and her cheeks wet with tears.

  He felt sadness settle into his chest, along with a hefty measure of guilt. Earlier today, he’d felt like a hero. Now he knew he’d been fooling himself. He’d really thought he could help these people? What a joke.

  Everything he touched turned to shit.

  “Go inside and lock the door,” Lauren told Penny. She stood, taking Don’s legs. “Let’s get him to triage.”

  Owen grabbed Don’s arms and helped Lauren carry him to the tent. He was surprised by how much of his weight she managed. Cadence followed them, sobbing. They set Don on an empty stretcher next to Sam.

  “You tied your T-shirt around his leg?” Lauren asked.

  He glanced at Cadence, covering the symbol on his upper chest with a shaking hand. Although she wasn’t looking, he’d never been more deeply ashamed of his tattoos. The ones across his torso were the most offensive. He wanted to crawl under a rock and die.