by Sam Sisavath
He saw a metallic reflection along the length of the billboard scaffolding, about the same time a gunshot interrupted the calmness and a bullet slammed into the concrete floor just three inches from the mirror.
Will quickly pulled the baton back.
He took a moment, gauging the distance between him and the sniper—120 meters, give or take. That meant two possible scenarios—the man was either a really good shot, or he had a nice riflescope on top of what sounded like an M4 doing most of the aiming for him.
Another M4? Same as the guys back at Mercy Hospital…
He moved to the other side of the dumpster and slowly eased the baton out again. He immediately angled it to get a better view of the billboard, and could just make out a figure lying on top of the metal scaffolding. There was only one man up there, but he seemed pretty comfortable. The guy was patient, too, which was another potential problem. He couldn’t make out a whole lot of details on the shooter, but it was easy enough to see the long barrel of the man’s rifle. The sun also glinted off a riflescope resting on top of it.
Just my luck, it’s probably an ACOG.
If the guy did have an ACOG, that meant he didn’t have to be a great shooter. The rifle scope was good for two, maybe 300 meters in the hands of an amateur. A pro like Danny could stretch that out to 800 in optimal conditions. At a distance of a hundred and change, the shooter had the advantage. Even a blind man could hit him from that distance, given enough time and a steady enough target.
Will pulled the mirror back and considered his options.
There was no way around it. He was pinned. There were no places to hide between him and the shooter. No buildings, or raised highway structures, or even a decent natural defilade to shelter behind. He wasn’t getting anywhere near the guy without being picked off first.
Which left him with…what?
There’s always an option. Always…
He glanced down at his watch: 10:13 a.m.
He had plenty of daylight to come up with something. That was the only good news.
He could make the Shell next door easily, but then what? The Triumph was on the wrong side of the gas pumps and he wouldn’t last more than a few seconds out there trying to climb on top of it, much less start it. And he wasn’t going to hit anything from this distance with the M4A1’s red dot sight. Maybe if he had an ACOG of his own, things would be different.
Yeah, and if wishes were assholes…
*
Ten minutes passed, and Will was surprised the sniper hadn’t called in reinforcements yet. It made him wonder if Kellerson and the others were too far away, or if the sniper was even a collaborator. He hadn’t seen any signs of a hazmat suit, but then again, the sniper might have taken it off, including the gas mask, to aim better. That made sense. The hazmat suit was essentially a uniform—to distinguish them from other humans and to each other, and of course, to the ghouls. There would be no reason for the sniper to wear it here.
If, that is, the man was even one of Kellerson’s people. For all Will knew, this could be a lone nutter. A survivalist who didn’t like people trespassing through his domain. But that wouldn’t explain why the man would take a shot at him. A survivalist would do all he could to avoid interaction with other people, including sniping at random passersby.
But if the sniper was one of Kellerson’s men, how many of them were out there? Maybe Jones had lied to him about their number. Or maybe Kellerson had already gotten reinforcements.
A lot of possibilities, and none of them did him any good at the moment.
Will slipped the baton outside again, angling it to get another look at the billboard. Almost instantly, he heard the crack! of a shot and a bullet chopped into the concrete parking lot a foot from the mirror.
He pulled the baton back quickly.
Will looked over at the Triumph, leaning on its kickstand. Impossible to get to, which further limited his options. He could retreat in the other direction. He could make it to the Shell easily, and from there, the Walmart next door. The sniper couldn’t hit him from that distance. He could gradually move back even farther and look for shelter.
Then what?
Will sat on the ground and took out another strip of Jack Link’s beef jerky. He ate slowly, in no real hurry, breathing through his mouth to keep out the rank stench of the dumpster behind him.
The sniper wasn’t going to attack. Why should he? He had the dominant position and was in total control of the situation. Attacking would be giving up his one major advantage. It was obvious now that it was just one man up there. Harvest, Louisiana, was as dead as you could get, and Will could hear almost everything, including debris scattering along the highway. The crunch of boots rushing him would be like firecrackers in this serenity.
He washed the jerky down with warm water and wished he were back on Song Island, walking on the beaches with Lara.
Lara… If I die now, she’s going to really be pissed.
He was thinking about how best to apologize to her when he heard the sound of a car engine. It was still distant, but approaching fast.
Alarms went off inside his head and he thought the car was reinforcement for the sniper, but he realized it was coming from the wrong direction. It wasn’t approaching from the north, where Kellerson would have vanished, but coming up from the south, from Lafayette.
Will scrambled up and inched toward the edge of the dumpster. He didn’t have to lean out completely to see the highway, or the green Volkswagen Beetle doing around forty miles per hour up the road. Out here, it was easy to get careless with speed; the lack of vehicles lulled you into a sense of safety that could be snatched away at any moment by just about anything, like debris, a pileup…or a sniper perched on a billboard.
The Beetle was still over 300 meters away…
Then 250…200 …
…150…
Will glanced toward the billboard. He saw sudden movement as the man shifted his position to pick up the Beetle.
…100 meters now…
At about seventy meters, Will heard the first shot from the M4, then brakes squealing and tires sliding desperately against the smooth highway. He leaned out a bit further and watched the sniper firing at the Beetle in three-round bursts.
The Beetle had come to a complete stop in the middle of the highway about fifty meters away, and Will watched a figure scramble out of the front passenger seat. Then a second later, another figure crawled out the same door, even as the sniper put round after round into the Beetle’s windshield and front hood and sides. The man seemed to be spraying and praying.
Then Will glimpsed a blonde ponytail.
Gaby.
What the hell was she doing here?
He sighed. She was following him, of course. It was the same reason why he had left before she had come back, because he knew she would argue and eventually decide to come with him. She was stubborn that way. It was the same trait that helped her to persevere and overcome.
He slipped out from behind the dumpster and ran across the parking lot. His thigh throbbed, reminding him he wasn’t 100 percent. Not even close.
He got twenty meters and was already crossing the feeder road and moving through the overgrown grass before the sniper remembered he was still around. The man shifted on the scaffolding and began shooting at him.
A bullet came close to putting a hole in his right arm, to match the one already in his left. Thankfully, he was able to find shelter behind a Chevy truck parked on the northbound lane. The windows above him shattered, and he heard the ping-ping-ping! of bullets going into the hood and the side of the truck.
He looked down the highway, in the direction of the Beetle.
Gaby was crouched behind the green vehicle, staring back at him. The guy crouched next to her looked familiar, and although Will thought it was Benny at first, he realized it was actually Nate, the twenty-something ROTC college student. The dumbass Mohawk gave it away.
Will caught Gaby’s eyes over the distance and held
up his left hand, with all five fingers extended. Then he began to count down.
Four…three…
She nodded back, understanding. She said something to Nate, who then scooted over to the back of the Beetle and stopped next to the back tire.
When he got to one, Gaby and Nate stood up in unison and began firing back at the billboard sign. They were close enough that they were hitting the billboard, and Will could hear the bullets that didn’t puncture the big sign ricocheting off the metal struts around the sniper.
He waited, and only dove out from behind the Chevy when he heard the sniper firing back at the Beetle. He kept an eye on the billboard, on the cute creatures and family of four welcoming him to visit Sandwhite Wildlife State Park, as he moved across the flat highway lanes, doing his best to ignore the stabbing pain from his leg. He hit the median about four seconds later and rushed across overgrown grass that looked more like jungles.
By the time the sniper realized he was moving again, Will was on the southbound lane and already too close. He saw the man clinging low to the scaffolding, Gaby and Nate still firing at him, their bullets perforating the billboard. Every time the sniper tried to get up, another bullet came close to taking his head off.
Will stopped and took aim and fired, hitting the metal tubes just under the sniper. The man flinched as sparks flickered at his face. He scrambled up to his knees to get a better view.
Big mistake.
Will fired—and missed.
His bullet hit the billboard behind the man’s head, but it must have come pretty close, because the sniper twisted around involuntarily, lost his balance, and fell about fourteen meters to the ground—and landed in a thick bush that hadn’t been pruned in eleven months.
Gaby and Nate stopped shooting as Will jogged across the highway over the southbound feeder road and approached the sniper. He spotted a hand reaching out from the brush, groping for a Beretta M9 in a hip holster.
Will stepped on the arm and the man screamed. He bent down, pulled out the Beretta, and shoved it behind his back.
The man had a thick red beard and was wearing some kind of camo uniform. He glared up at Will with dark, bloodshot eyes, grimacing in pain, but looking, miraculously enough, still in one piece.
“How many lives you got?” Will asked.
“Seven, give or take,” the guy said.
Will grinned back at him, and looking up at the billboard, saw the rifle still up there. “You forgot your rifle.”
“You wanna go get it for me?” the guy said.
“Well, since you asked so nicely…”
Gaby and Nate had run over. They were out of breath, though he guessed it was less from the short jog and more from the adrenaline.
“Friend of yours?” Gaby asked.
“Not quite,” Will said.
“Who is he?” Nate asked. “And why was he trying to kill you? Us?”
“I don’t know,” Will said. He looked back down at the man. “He’s either one of Kellerson’s, or some random asshole that likes shooting people for fun. So which one is it?”
The sniper said nothing.
“Kellerson?” Nate said.
“He’s in charge of the collaborators I told you about,” Gaby said. “The ones that attacked Mercy Hospital.”
“Look around for his vehicle,” Will said. “It should be around here somewhere.”
“What about you?” Gaby asked.
Will looked up at the billboard. “Watch him for me. He was using an ACOG, and it’s still up there.”
“Sweet,” Gaby said.
*
It was sweet, until he climbed all the way up and saw the M4 carbine with a big piece of metal sticking out of its side. There was another, smaller piece sticking out of the front lens of the scope mounted on top of it.
The sniper was sitting on the curb with his hands draped over his knees when Will climbed back down. Gaby stood in front of him, almost daring him to try something. He was smarter than he looked, though, and didn’t.
“Where’s the ACOG?” Gaby asked.
“It’s broken. Along with the rifle.”
“Of course. Why should we get any luck, right?”
“Did you find his vehicle?”
“Behind the school. Nate’s bringing it over now.” She looked at the man. “You killed a lot of people back at Mercy Hospital.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” the man said. “I was downstairs in front of the building the whole time.”
“So you are one of Kellerson’s men,” Will said.
“I’ll talk to the girl over here—I’ve always been partial to blondes—but you can kiss my ass.”
“Did you find out where Kellerson went?” Gaby asked Will.
“I bet my friend here knows,” Will said. Then he shifted his attention over to her. “What are you doing here, Gaby?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” she said, staring back at him defiantly.
“You know what I’m doing here.”
“Asked and answered, then.”
“I left before you came back for a reason.”
“I know. You tried to ditch me. That wasn’t very nice.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“And where should I be?”
“Back on Song Island.”
“Benny’s taking the others there. He doesn’t need me to ride shotgun.”
He sighed.
“Look,” she said, showing no signs of giving in, “I can’t just let you chase after Kellerson and those kids by yourself. Besides, that dick killed Amy and Jen. I liked them, Will. I liked them a lot, and I’m not going to let him get away with it.”
They heard a car coming and looked over as a white truck appeared from behind the auto body shop, driving through the grass before easing onto the road. Nate was behind the wheel.
“I know your story,” Will said. “What’s his? He voluntarily left his group to come chasing me, too?”
Gaby actually blushed a bit. “I guess he likes me.”
“And that’s the only reason he came?”
“He’s a guy, Will,” she said, as if that should explain everything.
He smiled. He guessed it did. “What about Benny?”
“What about Benny?”
“I thought you liked him.”
“Give me a break. It’s the end of the world. I get to pick whoever the hell I want to hang around with. Even if that someone is your dumb, suicidal ass.”
“Fair enough.”
“Besides,” Gaby said, “I figured, with the three of us, there’s a better chance you’ll come home alive, and I won’t have to explain to Lara why I let you run off to get yourself killed. Tell me I’m wrong.”
He didn’t, because she wasn’t wrong.
Three against Kellerson was better odds. It still wasn’t great odds, but it was a hell of a lot better than it had been an hour ago when he rode out of Lafayette.
CHAPTER 20
LARA
She overslept and woke up with a hangover. It wasn’t quite the pounding-in-your-brain type of hangover she had endured a couple of times in college, when she couldn’t pull herself away from a party fast enough. Lara was always good at either resisting or dodging peer pressure entirely, but there were only so many times you could tell your friends you didn’t want to drink with them before they took it personally.
She sat up in bed and grimaced at the sunlight splashing rudely across her face. She had slept in her clothes, but had somehow managed to kick off one shoe during the night. Not soon enough, as it turned out, because the bedsheets were covered with crumbs of dirt and dried mud.
She stumbled to her feet and into the bathroom for a hot shower, spending the full five minutes to gather herself. Afterward, Lara dressed in fresh cargo pants and a long-sleeve shirt, then grabbed her gun belt. All the while, she stepped over pieces of the broken radio and closet door she hadn’t gotten to yesterday.
She picked up a new radio from the nightstand and deb
ated whether to call Danny, who would already have been in the Tower since five this morning. With Blaine still in the Infirmary, Carly had pitched in, taking over Blaine’s shift in the evenings. Soon Lara would have to start assigning Bonnie, Roy, and the others their own duties. But that could wait, maybe until after Will got back.
If he’s still alive…
She had overslept her eight o’clock shift on the beach, which meant Roy had either failed to wake her up or had decided not to. If it was the former, she had cause to be worried; she needed people she could trust to do what they promised. But if it was the latter, and he purposely didn’t wake her because he thought she needed the extra sleep, then she would have to thank him.
*
She found Bonnie in the kitchen, helping Sarah and Jo fix breakfast for everyone.
Breakfast, unlike lunch and dinner, didn’t involve fish. There were plenty of freeze-dried breakfast items in the freezer, enough to feed, according to Sarah, an army for a few years. That was an exaggeration, but not far from the truth. There were stacks of frozen biscuits, sausage patties, bacon strips, pancake batter, waffles, oatmeal, French toast sticks, popcorn chicken, and a hundred other items she didn’t even know came in frozen form. Sarah had begun to catalog everything—something that was never done when Karen ran the island—and was still going through the shelves three months later.
“Where’s Roy?” she asked them.
“He went to bed about two hours ago,” Bonnie said. “I found him snoring on top of the boat shack this morning. Poor guy, he wanted to stay up there until you came to relieve him. I put Gwen in his place with the binoculars, if that’s okay.”
She nodded. “That’s fine. The beach is just a precaution, anyway. She has a radio?”
“Danny assigned everyone radios this morning.”
“Why didn’t anyone wake me?”
Sarah gave her a sympathetic smile. “Everyone agreed you needed the extra sleep. Besides, Carly and Danny are around. Nothing happened, and you got your rest. Everything’s fine, Lara.”
Lara smiled. “So, Roy was snoring on top of the shack?”
