Last Freedom: Book 4 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (The Last City - Book 4)

by Kevin Partner

  Hick shook his head. "Where's Bird?"

  "Dead. Seems you might have miscalculated."

  Hick cursed. "But everyone bought that I'm dead?"

  "Oh yeah. It's been quite the education. Turns out some folks actually like you, Paul. You need to work a little harder or lose your reputation as a two-faced heartless con man. I do believe I saw tears. Though whether they was tears of sadness or joy, I wouldn't like to say."

  "You're hilarious, Rusty. I reckon I might have to attend the hospital."

  Kaminski's smile disappeared. "You didn't get injured, did you?"

  "No, but my sides might need reattachin' from laughing so damn much."

  Rusty Kaminski let out a brief curse, apologized to Martha and slumped onto the couch. "Well, what now?"

  "Now we wait to see what Crawford does. Have you posted guards on the house?"

  "Of course. That's what we agreed, after all."

  "What have you told them?"

  Kaminski shrugged. "Nothin' about our business. Just told 'em that folks might try and loot the place and they's to stop those who try, and make a note of everyone who passes, just in case they're casing the joint. But Hick, I ain't comfortable that we ain't told Lynda. She's on our side, I'd bet my life on it."

  "You're probably right, but 'probably' could get us all killed. The less of us know I'm alive, the better the chance that Crawford will believe it. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna find my attic and get some shut-eye."

  #

  "We did not have to come this night. We wait until light."

  "No, Remik. He's my friend. I gotta see for myself."

  Cassie Miller jumped out of the car and ran toward the house of Paul Hickman, followed by the farm hand. She'd heard about the explosion, but it had taken until after dark before she could slip away without her father knowing. Mind, Remik had been keen enough. Any chance to spend some time with Cassie.

  "Hey, hold on there!"

  They froze and turned around slowly. "It's okay, Deputy. He's my friend."

  "Was your friend, you mean," the deputy said. "Now, who are you?"

  Cassie collapsed into Remik's arms. He regarded the cop with poorly concealed contempt. "I am Remik Černý."

  The deputy pulled out a pen and began scribbling on his notepad. "How d'you spell that? C H E R N E Y?"

  "Da. It will do. She is daughter of Elwood Miller. Cassie. She came to see."

  "At this time of night?" the deputy said as he scribbled.

  Remik shrugged. "She like him a lot, perhaps."

  "He was good to me," she said between sobs.

  "Hey, why you taking names? This is not Czech Republic."

  Now it was the deputy's turn to shrug. "All I know is my orders are to watch the house and note down the names of anyone who comes along."

  "Even friends like her? She is not looter. You can see."

  "Well, sure."

  "Then maybe you tear out sheet? If Mr. Miller find out, she in big trouble."

  The deputy smiled slyly. "And maybe you too? Out at night with Elwood Miller's precious daughter?"

  "Maybe," Remik said, returning the smile.

  "Is there no chance?" Cassie said, emerging from Remik's embrace.

  "None. The car was blown to pieces. It was on his drive and the bomb went off when he turned the key. I'm sorry, Miss Miller, but he's gone. And Hope's sure gonna be a different place without him around. Not entirely sure it'll be a better place, neither, and I didn't expect to ever say that about mean Paul Hickman."

  Cassie dissolved into sobbing again as Remik held her tight, glancing reproachfully at the cop.

  "Look, I'm sorry," the deputy said. "I'm real sorry. But I suggest you get yourself home before Elwood sends out the search parties. And don't worry, I won't say nothin' to nobody." He ripped their names out of the pad, tore them up and scattered them. "Best I can do to help."

  Remik began guiding her back to the car. He looked back at the deputy and nodded.

  It was time to make his report.

  Chapter 7: Strike

  Devon tried to keep up with Gert as they ran through the streets of Ezra. They'd set off soon after rising and it would have been almost pleasant to jog along as the sun rose above the horizon had it not been for two things that occupied all of Devon's thoughts.

  He glanced at where Jade was running beside Gert, keeping as close to him and as far from Devon as possible. He felt a surge of adrenaline; a mix of confusion, anger and disappointment. When she'd asked to come with him, he'd been stunned and his mind had split like a firework, exploring all the myriad implications of any response he might make. He'd always been like this. Some people instinctively knew what to say, but to Devon surprises were like staggering onto a minefield with a blindfold on.

  Mind, he didn't have much more success when he did have time to think through what he was going to say. Jessie was evidence of that. Perhaps it was gender that was the common denominator. Devon and women just didn't mix.

  So, Jade was now shunning him, and he was terrified that she might do something rash or downright stupid either to get him back or because she genuinely didn't care anymore about her own safety. Either way, he felt responsible, so he kept his eyes glued on her as they ran.

  The streets were wide and bordered by the ruins of ranch houses that made the city look flat, squatting in the cup of the valley like dregs in a coffee cup. Devon felt exposed as they hugged the low chain-link fences of what had once been family homes but were now memorials to lost futures.

  They darted into the gap between two properties as the unmistakable rumble of a Land Rover's engine echoed through the near silence. Crouching in the shadows, they watched as the headlights got closer. Devon could make out dim figures inside the car, the glow of a lit cigarette illuminating black-masked faces.

  When the car had turned a corner, Gert urged them on. Everything depended on the three groups getting into position safely. Gert, Devon, Eric and Jade made up the first group—it would be their job to set the charges once Libby's group had created a diversion. It was the oldest trick in the book and one no professional army would fall for, but Libby had confirmed that the Sons of Solomon contained only a small core of trained soldiers. The rest they recruited locally when they moved into an area. So, most of the people guarding the trucks would be civilians, though some would have military experience to be sure.

  The plan, then, was for Libby's group to set off a small bomb two blocks away. That would draw off at least some of the guards. The second group would lob smoke grenades into the compound, and, under cover of the chaos, Gert's group would place the plastic explosives. This had been their one stroke of luck—Libby's mother had quietly moved a portion of the weapons from the armory to form a private cache in the basement of the town hall. It was the last thing Crystal Hawkins had told her daughter and, Libby had to confess, it had been more useful than any false pretense of love between them.

  So, the four of them carried several kilos of plastic explosive each with a timed detonator. They would have only ten minutes to get away once they set the last of the charges. Devon tried not to think about their chances of getting out of there unharmed as he plodded along the streets toward a salmon sky.

  They gathered outside the elementary school, hidden in the rubble of a brick building opposite. Trucks, Land Rovers and other vehicles gathered around what had once been the school play area with its red and yellow painted ride-ons.

  The vehicle compound was enclosed on three sides by the remains of the school building. One wing, which protected the west end of the makeshift parking lot, was still intact and that was being used to house the guards and their supplies. The final side, the side facing the road, was partially enclosed by chain-link fencing that had been dragged there from elsewhere, but it had a large gap in the center for vehicles to exit and enter. That would be their route of access.

  "Five minutes," Gert said. "I hate this waiting. Have you all checked your weapons."

  Jad
e treated him to a look that could desiccate a cockroach. "We checked before we left, and we checked when we got here. Cool it, Mr. Lover Boy." She glanced at Devon for a moment before looking away again.

  Gert stabbed a finger at her. "Listen, girl. You take this seriously, right? We all depend on each other. We got to do this job and then get out. All of us. D'you hear me?"

  She blushed, opened her mouth as if to say something, but then subsided into silence, turning away to stare at the school.

  Devon focused on counting the guards. "How many, do you think? I count twenty or so."

  "Yeah, that's about right," Gert said, moving across to kneel beside him. "You see there? We'll use that for cover if we need it."

  A sedan was parked at right angles to the military vehicles. Devon guessed it was being used by a courier to take messages from post to post. "Good idea. It'd be too much to hope that we'd be able to get in and out without being spotted. Whoever gets there first can provide covering fire to the others."

  "This is insane."

  Devon turned to see Eric crawling along until he was the other side of Gert.

  "I mean, there's over twenty of them and four of us—and only three with any combat experience."

  Devon wondered fleetingly whether it was he or Jade who was the odd one out in Eric's estimation.

  Gert shook his head. "Libby will draw them off. Then Konrad's team will lob in the smoke grenades."

  "I know the plan," Eric hissed. "I came up with it in the first place, long before the cavalry arrived."

  "So what's the problem, if it's your plan?"

  "I suggested an attack on this street. Visible from the school. That way, more of them will go look."

  Gert sighed. "Yes, she told me that was the idea, but it is too dangerous. It would be five of them against, maybe, fifteen. If they're farther away, they can lose their pursuers and withdraw tactically."

  "I knew it was you," Eric said, slumping back.

  BANG!

  They froze.

  "Was that Libby?" Devon asked, spotting a rising column of smoke to the right.

  "Too close," Gert responded.

  Figures ran from the compound, more pouring from the remaining school building. One man barked orders as a smattering of gunfire erupted from where the explosion had come from.

  "Skide! It is her. She did not listen!"

  The soldiers outside the school formed up, using trucks for cover, before streaming off in two groups.

  "They are going to outflank her."

  Devon glanced across at Gert who was looking in the direction of the column of smoke, as if he could see through the bricks and rubble between them. He touched the Dutchman on the shoulder. "We've got to go, now!"

  Bang! Bang!

  Smoke spread from three places across the playground and among the trucks.

  Devon ran from cover, not waiting to see if the others were following him though, soon enough, he heard boots on the asphalt. He headed for a row of mountain ash trees that grew from the sidewalk. Too narrow to offer anything other than the illusion of cover, he glanced around the trunk of the nearest tree. Chaos. To his right he could see soldiers running in both directions: some toward the original cloud of smoke and gunfire, and a few heading back toward the parking lot.

  Devon clasped the Glock to his chest and grabbed the strap of his backpack in the other to stop it swinging. He sprinted across the grass toward the gap in the fencing as smoke billowed out of it and spiraled into the air.

  A man lumbered out of the fog, assault rifle held loosely at his side. He went to lift it, but Devon was quicker, punching him from his feet as Devon ran past him and into the compound. Judging by the number of voices that cried out, only a handful had remained to guard the vehicles. Good, they had a chance.

  He ducked beside the door of an olive-green truck. It looked ancient but well looked after. He almost felt sorry that if he succeeded, it would soon by a pile of twisted metal. Almost.

  Devon tasted bitter smoke at the back of his throat and tried to ignore the gunfire and the chaotic calls around him. At any moment, someone would stumble on him. But he focused on his work, with only half an eye on the Glock as it lay by his boot. He pulled the block of C-4 out of his backpack and ripped off the adhesive pad. The TPU was set to give roughly ten minutes for them to get away.

  His work done, he went to get up and spun around as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  "I can't get over there."

  It was Jade. Well, at least she was talking to him now. She was pointing beyond the truck.

  "We'll go together."

  She nodded, her pale face almost hidden by the drifting smoke.

  He got up and skirted the truck. As he rounded the corner, he collided with a figure. Instantly, he struck out with his fist and his opponent grunted, stepping back but bringing his rifle around. A shadow flew past his peripheral vision as Jade threw herself at the man. They fell to the floor, but she was thrown off, crying out as the soldier's fist swung.

  Devon pulled his knife out and stooped, but the man's arm came around and pushed the blade sideways, so it plunged into the soil as Devon lost his footing and fell forward. He saw the soldier lift the rifle off the ground, stock first, ready to punch it into Devon's skull, but he was the quicker, freeing the Glock from beneath him. The man's eyes widened in the moment before the gun spoke. It was an image that inhabited Devon's nightmares for the rest of his life.

  Jade grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet. He could hear Gert's voice calling. "Fall back!"

  He pulled Jade's pack from her shoulder. "You go!"

  "No way. I'm staying with you."

  He had no time to argue. He armed the detonator and made a run for a Land Rover parked near the back of the lot. Gunfire echoed off the ruins of the school—some of it a couple of hundred yards away, some of it much closer. He reached the car, ripped off the adhesive pad and stuck it underneath.

  "Come on! We gotta go. Fast!"

  They ran past the body of the soldier Devon had killed and toward the entrance.

  Da-da-da-da.

  Devon crouched low and grabbed Jade by the hand as he headed for the car parked outside the lot.

  "They're coming back!" Jade said.

  Devon's heart sank. The troops that had been sent to tackle Libby were returning—or, at least, some of them. That either meant they'd been recalled or, more likely, that they'd dealt with the threat from her.

  There was no sign of Gert or Eric. "Get under the car!" Jade said.

  She was right. They were sure to be discovered if they hid behind it. So, he followed her underneath, his face scraping on the gritty soil, his nose wrinkling from the smell of crushed grass. Don't sneeze!

  He could see boots coming toward them. Then they turned away. Go on. Get into the compound.

  Jade looked back at him. "How long?"

  He was about to explain that he had no idea how long it had been since he'd set the first charge when his world became one of searing heat like a wind blowing out of a steel furnace.

  The car above them rocked up onto two wheels and he grabbed her as one after the other the C-4 packages ignited, each building the flame ball, each throwing fresh debris into the air. Screams and the shadows of flame-wreathed figures running. He stood looking at the devastation for a moment and then grabbed Jade's hand. She stumbled, so he hoisted her over his shoulder and lumbered away as quickly as he could. There were no more bullets flying as he made it into the rubble opposite. This was where they were supposed to rendezvous before dispersing, but no one else was here.

  He couldn't believe that Gert would be dead, so where could he be? Devon looked along the street to where they'd seen the first column of smoke. "Come on, we've got to find Gert."

  Without a word, Jade followed him.

  Cries echoed from the burning compound as they ran. Some had survived, but they were too occupied with their wounded comrades to pay any attention to Devon and Jade.

  They
found Gert a hundred yards along the street.

  "Eric!" Jade sprang forward, ignoring Devon, and kneeled beside a body.

  "What was he doing here?" she said. "He was with us. Look at all this blood."

  But Devon was focused on Gert. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

  The Dutchman was on his knees beside a body. Around him lay three soldiers with black masks and the unmistakable form of Scot, who lay face down, arms by his side and entirely still.

  "She is dead. Libby," Gert said without taking his eyes from the inert body of Libby Hawkins. She was lying where she'd fallen, except that he'd obviously cradled her in his arms because he had a huge red stain on his camouflage jacket.

  Devon put his hand on Bekmann's shoulder. "I'm sorry, my friend, I truly am. But we must go. That explosion will draw fighters from across the city."

  "Let them come."

  Devon kneeled down, trying to keep his eyes away from Libby's ruined chest and lifeless gaze. "We have to go. You are needed. I need you."

  "I don't care. Leave me and I will hold them off while you get away."

  "For f…"

  "Please, Mr. Bekmann. I need you too. We can't get out of here without you." Jade appeared on the other side of Libby. She closed her former leader's eyes and wiped the tears from Gert's face. Finally, he looked at her and, after the briefest of pauses, nodded.

  He stood, looked down at his lover one more time, then led them into the ruins of the city.

  Chapter 8: Under the Sons

  "Come, you must help tend the vines."

  Sam awoke with a start and looked up into the unfamiliar face of a middle-aged woman with light brown skin. She wore a set of blue denim dungarees over a white shirt.

  "My name is Maria, and I'm sorry but you must get up. We will be punished if we do not fulfill our quota."

  "Where the hell am I?" Sam said, swinging her legs over the side of what turned out to be a couple of crates with a filthy mattress on top. She'd been thrown in here the previous night after her interrogation, but it had been dark, so it was only now she could see she was in a small barn or outbuilding.