The Stones of Angkor (Purge of Babylon, Book 3)

by Sam Sisavath

  He didn’t answer.

  “You don’t happen to have a pair of boots in that bag, do you?” she asked.

  “I had a pair of shoes I picked up for Lara, but I had to throw them away.”

  “Boots?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad. I could use a pair of boots. Even those clunky army boots. Tell me about Lara.”

  He ignored her.

  “Come on, you know you want to. Is she pretty? Blonde? Brunette? Probably pretty. I also bet you have a thing for blondes, don’t you?”

  He pretended he couldn’t hear her.

  “Who doesn’t like blondes? Everyone likes blondes. You wanna ask me if I’m a natural blonde?”

  He didn’t.

  “I am. In case you were wondering. Lara’s a blonde, right? I knew it. You don’t know it, but you have a type. You wanna know what it is?”

  He kept walking, looking forward.

  “You know you wanna,” she said. “Admit it, and I’ll tell you. Will? Can you hear me up there? God, you suck.”

  *

  “Is it everything you expected?” Zoe asked.

  It looked like something out of an old Western, sections of the place separated into grids, all connected by one long main street. Brick and mortar buildings lined the sidewalks, their signs re-purposed with simple names like Bakery, Supplies, Clinic, and one for Administration. There were more he couldn’t see from his vantage point. Smoke drifted out from chimneys.

  Apartments were interspersed among the businesses, and people were moving leisurely on the other side of open windows and fluttering curtains. A woman was hanging laundry, while a redheaded kid leaned over the windowsill watching the streets below. A pair of preteens in shorts raced along the sidewalk, dodging adults.

  What end of the world?

  There was a fountain in the town square, where a big white tent had been set up. Transport trucks were parked nearby, and a line of people stood in a semi-organized circle that snaked around the tent. Armed figures in hazmat suits moved among them, but unlike back at the camp, these men looked alert.

  They’re expecting trouble.

  He was lying flat on top of a small hill about 200 meters from the edge of town, peering through binoculars. Zoe sat behind him, rubbing her feet.

  There were no gunmen on the rooftops that he could see, which made the place look more accommodating than it really was. Or maybe it really was that welcoming? He remembered what Jenkins, the man he had met yesterday in the camp and who had tried to squeeze him for information about the towns, had said. The man was anxious, even eager, to finally get settled.

  “I think I made the right decision. Still, it would be nice to finally get to one of these towns I keep hearing about. Get on with living.”

  A low rumble preceded the appearance of two military five-ton transport trucks, entering the other side of town. They moved through the street, coming to a loud, crunching stop behind the other parked vehicles next to the white tent.

  People hopped out of the back of the first truck. Men and women stretching, shaking hands and hugging. An air of happiness, of a long journey finally come to a fruitful end, showed on their faces. A pair of women with clipboards appeared, greeting the newcomers, while teenagers pushed carts and handed out bottled water and food. Pregnant women were helped down the back of the second truck, and they automatically became the center of attention.

  “What’s happening in the white tent?” Will asked.

  “The one with everyone lining up outside?” Zoe asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Processing. It’s where they sign in to the town and get assigned housing. Later, they’re given work details.”

  “Work details?”

  “It’s a town, Will. People have to run it. They’re given work based on their qualifications. For instance, I would get assigned to the clinic.”

  “So what poor slob gets garbage duty?”

  “I guess whoever doesn’t have a skill they could use somewhere else. Isn’t that what you do on the island? Delegate jobs?”

  She had a point, but he decided to keep that to himself. He said instead, “And anyone can come and go as they please?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “But you don’t know for sure.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone leave. Why would they want to? Everything they need is there. Food. Water. Shelter. And they don’t have to be scared at night.”

  “Bottled water?”

  “The towns I’ve been to all had spring wells. I’m guessing this one does too, or they wouldn’t have settled here.”

  “And the creatures, they don’t come into town at nights?”

  “I’ve never seen them.”

  “How do they know to stay away?”

  “Probably the same way they know not to harm the guys in hazmat suits.”

  Kate tells them. Or one of the other blue-eyed ghouls.

  The line outside the tent moved slowly, but no one seemed to mind. He couldn’t hear their chatter from where he lay, but their body movements told him everything. This was where they wanted to be, and the overwhelmingly positive energy emanating from them was hard to miss.

  Will watched them in silence for a moment.

  “It’s a good deal,” he said finally, grudgingly. “As long as the townspeople keep feeding them blood.”

  “Donating,” Zoe said.

  “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”

  “They’re not like you, Will. They’re not soldiers. They’re just trying to survive the end of the world the best they can.”

  “Why did they choose the small towns? Why not the bigger cities with all the supplies still on the shelves? Just for the well water?”

  “I never asked.”

  “You don’t have any theories?”

  “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

  “Indulge me.”

  “The others and I were talking—the other medical staff—and we think it’s because they want us to start over. A fresh start. The cities are filled with reminders of the old world. Our achievements, our art, our evolution as human beings. Out here, surrounded by farmland, woods… It’s like going back to our roots. No power, no electricity… It’s easier to believe the last two centuries never happened.”

  “Back to the olden days, is that it?”

  “Something like that,” Zoe said. “I know you don’t approve of this, Will. But those people down there, they want to be there. What right do you have to tell them they can’t?”

  “It’s unnatural.”

  “According to you. Who gave you the power to decide for them what they should or shouldn’t do with their lives? Look around you, Will. The world as we know it is gone. It’s not your place to tell anyone what to do with however many days, weeks, or months they have left.”

  Goddammit, she makes a good point.

  Will crawled back to her and slipped the binoculars into his pack. He pulled out a bottle of water, took a sip and offered her the rest. She drank hungrily from it and didn’t stop until she had almost drained it.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he said.

  She gave him a surprised look. “Really?”

  “Don’t be so surprised.”

  “Sorry,” she smiled.

  “I don’t have the right to tell anyone down there what to do with their lives.”

  He saw her face softening, maybe even looking a little bit pleased. “So what happens now?”

  Good question. What happens now?

  He didn’t answer her right away. Will looked up at the cloudless sky. It was bright and warm, with barely anything resembling a breeze. It would be different on the island. There was always a nice wind blowing across Beaufont Lake. Cool lake water and soft, mushy sand under his feet. And Lara. He missed Lara most of all.

  “Will?” Zoe said. “What happens now?”

  “I go back to the island and you can head into town. The people down there are from the camp I took you from, so they’ll know you didn�
��t go with me willingly. You shouldn’t have too much trouble fitting right back in.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You really think I was going to shoot you?”

  She smirked. “You did shove a gun against my temple the first time we met.”

  He chuckled. “Point taken—” he started to say, but stopped when he heard the crunch crunch of heavy boots against dry, brittle grass behind him, coming from the other side of the hill.

  Will unslung his rifle as Zoe froze, alarmed by his sudden movements. He crawled back to the top of the hill and looked down.

  Three men in hazmat suits were moving steadily up the other side, the sun reflecting off their bright white suits. Two of them were wearing their gas masks, while the third had his clipped to his hip. They were near the very bottom of the hill and seemed to be struggling with their footing.

  He saw them about a second before they spotted his head peering over the crest of the hill, and instantly one of them opened fire with an AK-47. When that happened, the other two began shooting, too.

  Will ducked his head as the dirt and grass around him exploded, chunks flickering into the air. He slid his way back down to Zoe.

  Her eyes were wide and glued to him. “What’s happening?”

  “I’ll see you around, doc.” He leaped to his feet and raced down the hillside, then threw a quick look over his shoulder at Zoe. “Stay down so you don’t get shot!”

  Will hopped the last three meters down to the bottom of the hill and continued running at full speed. It didn’t take very long for gunfire to fill the air again, bullets speckling the ground to the left and right of him.

  But they were lousy shots, and as amazing as it seemed, each subsequent new round seemed to land further and further away from him. He didn’t bother to return fire, and instead concentrated on adding more distance between him and the hill. He pretended as if he weren’t running away from gunfire, but running back toward Lara.

  Yeah, that’s the ticket.

  After thirty seconds of nonstop sprinting, he had extended his lead enough that the shooting stopped. That allowed him to slow down to a nice, unhurried pace.

  Like running in the park…while being shot at.

  He thought about Lara and the island again. Sarah’s cooking, Danny’s corny jokes, and watching the girls, Elise and Vera and Sarah’s daughter Jenny, being girls. But most of all, his mind’s eye was filled with images of Lara.

  It didn’t take long before he felt shooting pain from his thigh, the everlasting gift from the helicopter crash. It had been so long since he noticed he was even injured down there that the sudden jolts took him momentarily by surprise. He pushed it into the back of his mind, then away entirely.

  It worked…for a few seconds.

  Lara could take care of that. Back on the island.

  Back to Lara…

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glint of blue metal and heard the loud, familiar roar of man-made machinery before he even glanced to his right side and saw it.

  It was a big blue truck, emerging from around the wide base of the hill.

  It was moving fast—and was pointed right at him like a heat-seeking missile. There were two men in the back of the truck, wearing hazmat suits and holding on for dear life as the truck slid, crunched, and spun against the loose ground under its massive tires.

  The truck sped right at him, gobbling up the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

  FUBAR. Definitely FUBAR.

  Will spun around, lifted the M4A1, flicked the fire selector to full-auto, and pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER 29

  GABY

  They took I-49 southbound back into Lafayette, doing thirty-five miles per hour because Gaby didn’t quite trust her driving skills. It wasn’t like she had a lot of practice on the highways, especially in something as souped up as the Mustang GT. Thankfully, there weren’t a whole lot of obstacles for her to maneuver around, though she knew all that would change once they neared the city.

  “I’ll drive once we get closer,” Nate said.

  She glanced briefly over at him. He did look a lot better. Then again, it wasn’t hard to improve on yesterday, when he was covered in his own blood and half dead. And she had seen him driving with one hand back at the camp, with people shooting at them. Even Will had looked impressed.

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “Really?” he smiled. “I was expecting a fight.”

  “Goes to show you don’t really know me.”

  “Point taken.”

  She found herself looking forward to reaching Beaufont Lake by midafternoon, and the image of riding a boat back to Song Island, over the familiar calm of the lake’s surface, made her smile into the wind outside the open window.

  Nate noticed. “What was that? Was that a smile? Holy shit, now that’s hot.”

  “Don’t be an asshole.”

  “My bad.”

  “‘My bad’? I haven’t heard that in a while. The last person who said that—” She didn’t finish, because the last person who had said that was Josh.

  Back in Beaumont.

  Back when he was still…Josh.

  What happened to you, Josh?

  “What’s wrong?” Nate asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I was just thinking about a friend.”

  “I’m sure Will’s fine.”

  “Not Will…”

  “Oh.” It took him a moment, then he nodded knowingly. “That kid back in the camp? What was his name, Josh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You guys were more than friends. That’s the sense I got, anyway.”

  “We were.”

  “A lot more?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” Nate said.

  “Don’t be sorry. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “What happened to him? How does a kid that young become one of those guys? It seemed like he was leading them, too. They wouldn’t shoot us because we were using him as a shield, right?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “Was he always like that?”

  “No. That Josh back there…” She struggled for the right words. “It wasn’t the Josh I knew. We survived together. Josh and me, and another guy named Matt. For eight months. We hid and ran and survived together in one dark, dank basement after another. We hadn’t met Will yet at the time. We were just three stupid kids. Honestly, I don’t know how we managed to survive for so long.”

  “What happened to Matt?”

  “We lost him.”

  “Wow, I’m a total idiot. Sorry.”

  She gave him a pursed smile. “You didn’t know.”

  “I should have, though. I’ve been out here for a long time too, and what else would have happened to Matt if not…for what happened to him.”

  “It’s okay.”

  They didn’t say anything for a while, and she was grateful for the silence.

  Of course, it didn’t last.

  “So, this island,” Nate said. “It’s got rooms, hot showers, and a never-ending supply of fish?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Awesome. Because I love all three of those things. Especially the hot shower part. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I haven’t showered in, oh, about two months.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That explains the smell.”

  *

  Traffic along the I-49 started clogging up about four miles out of Lafayette, and eventually Gaby didn’t trust her driving enough to keep going. She slowed down, then stopped altogether and put the GT into park.

  She looked over at Nate as he was unbuckling his belt. “Are you sure you can drive?”

  “Gaby, it’s two things—stepping on the gas and turning the steering wheel. I only need one arm for that.”

  She nodded, and they climbed out of the GT and switched places.

  Gaby laid her AR-15 across her lap for easy access, while Nate adjusted the seat to
accommodate his longer frame. He put the car back into drive, looking very comfortable driving with one hand, and soon she forgot to keep an eye on him.

  Nate drove up the highway for a while, before the congestion forced him onto the shoulder. The GT scraped by a couple of stalled vehicles, the loud grinding of paint against paint like a banshee’s shrill cry.

  “Try not to lose any more paint,” Gaby said. “It’s my first sports car.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Soon, Nate had slowed down to ten miles per hour—then five, until they were essentially crawling along the highway. Gaby wondered if they would make better time if they got out and started walking. It had been so much easier yesterday in the Beetle, but of course there was a reason for that. The road out of Lafayette had been cleared by the Humvees and their steel plows, whereas the road back in was still stuffed with vehicles abandoned eleven months ago.

  “There’s less traffic over on the northbound lane,” Gaby said. “Maybe we should switch over before we get any further into the city, use the path those Humvees cleared out for us.”

  “Good idea.”

  They were still far enough outside the city limits that the highway’s lanes weren’t partitioned with concrete dividers yet, so there was nothing to keep Nate from crossing over onto the northbound lane. After that, he was able to push the GT back up to fifteen miles per hour, then twenty.

  “And they say girls are bad with directions,” Nate said.

  “I think you’ve got the genders mixed up there, buckaroo.”

  He chuckled. “‘Buckaroo’?”

  “Something I picked up from this guy named Danny. You’ll meet him on the island.”

  “I don’t have to fight him for your affections, do I?”

  “Why? You don’t think you can win a fight for my affections?”

  “Right now I’m a bit gimpy. I do have two bullet holes in me, you know. Give me a break.”

  “Still, a real man would work through those disabilities.”

  “Now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Just a tad,” he said, pinching his thumb and forefinger together.

  *

  Lafayette was a lot thicker with traffic than she remembered. By the time they reached the Marabond Throughway, they had already been forced off the highway and onto the feeder roads.