Showdown: Book 6 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival series: (The Long Night - Book 6)

by Kevin Partner

  Aside from those they could see, Alison could detect implanted people since she had to find implants before she could check whether each contained Scott's serial code. In the first hour, as they'd barely covered the first part of the outskirts, she reported over 200 survivors still occupying the ghost town, many in ones and twos, but around half in larger groups.

  Two men walked out of the shadows of an alley as the Humvee made its fifth stop.

  "You fellas wanna trade?" the first said. He was a middle-aged man with short gray hair and beard. Jaxon swung around, gun first.

  The man raised his arms to show he was unarmed. "Hey, you can put your pieces away! We don't mean no harm."

  Solly approached the man, hand extended. "Solly Masters," he said.

  "Mike Groucutt, and this here's Ibrar," he replied, gesturing at the figure behind him, a large man in a dark jacket. "That's a mighty nice vehicle you got there."

  "Yeah, and it's ours," Vivian said, treating Groucutt to a trademark poisoned glance.

  "That's Viv and Jaxon," Solly said.

  Groucutt's mouth opened to reveal a gold tooth and gum disease. "Well hello, little lady. Ain't you just the feisty one?"

  Solly stepped between them before the fool said any more. "Have you got anything to trade, or not?"

  "Sure. I got drugs."

  "We're not interested."

  "Not them kind of drugs. Well, not only them," Groucutt said. "Show 'em, Ibrar."

  For the first time, Solly noticed that the second man had a small leather briefcase, barely visible in the folds of his coat. He swung it out and rested it on one arm as he opened it with the other.

  "Where did you get these from?" Solly asked.

  The big man shrugged. "What does it matter? They're genuine."

  Solly reached in, picked out a white box and held it up to the others. "This is the same brand of Tamiflu we got from Bobby's cache."

  Vivian snapped forward, hand outstretched, trying to grab Groucutt who stepped back in shock, as if finally recognizing her as a threat.

  "Hey, what's your problem? I didn't rob nobody," he shrieked, waving his hands to emphasize his point.

  "Where did you get them from?" Solly pressed, pulling the Glock from his belt and pointing it at Ibrar's head. The man looked from Groucutt to Solly, petrified.

  "We got them from, from…"

  "…the Baymont. They were in the Baymont."

  Solly's jaw dropped, but Viv was the first to respond. "From Harper? The fake doctor? You tellin' me he gave you all those drugs?"

  "Well, he didn't exactly give them to us," Groucutt said, "on account of him not being in a position to."

  "What do you mean?" Solly asked.

  Groucutt slowly lowered his arms. "He was dead. Him and every other soul in the Baymont. We heard the screamin' and the gunfire, but it got quieter and quieter, as if somethin' was hunting down the survivors. Some of them tried to get away, but they was gunned down too."

  "I saw them, I saw them running," Ibrar said, almost sobbing.

  Groucutt put his hand on the man's arm. "Now then, son. I don't reckon you quite saw what you say you did."

  "It was floating in the air, like a big black drone. It took them out like it was target practice," he said, covering his eyes with his hands.

  "Don't pay no attention to him," Groucutt said. "He's got a vivid imagination."

  "Where did you get that watch?" Jaxon said, pointing at Ibrar's wrist.

  The man dropped his hands and the sleeves of his coat slid down as he edged back nervously.

  Solly stepped towards him. "Let's see. Now."

  After glancing at Groucutt, who seemed to be deliberately ignoring him, Ibrar shrugged and held out his arm. Jaxon moved alongside Solly and peered down at the chunky wrist. "I knew it! It's Scott's watch."

  "What? How do you know?"

  Jaxon looked sheepishly at Solly. "I dunno, I suppose I thought it was cool. Look, it's Swiss Military, a classic. I know this is his."

  "Where did you get this?" Solly snapped at the man, dreading to hear that it had been salvaged from Lee's dead body.

  "In the storeroom," Ibrar said, sweat forming on his round face. "It was just lying there and I thought, why not? The owner's probably dead."

  But Solly, Jaxon and Vivian were already climbing back into the Humvee.

  Solly stabbed his foot on the gas, panic threatening to overwhelm him. Scott Lee would be at the hotel, in the eye of the storm. But what else would be there when they arrived?

  Chapter 2

  Crows flapped into the sky as the Humvee pulled up in front of the Baymont Hotel. They were beyond the barrier made of stacked cars that surrounded the base so Solly couldn't see any bodies from here, but within seconds the crows began to descend again, deciding that he was no threat to their feasting.

  According to Groucutt, the attack had taken place about a week ago, so Solly didn't think it likely the Reaper—or Reapers—would still be here. But, having experienced the sheer naked terror of being hunted by one, he wasn't taking any chances.

  Solly turned to Jaxon, who was checking the magazine of his Ruger. "Remember…"

  "Yeah, I know, Sol," Jaxon said, without looking up. "If I see a black drone, run like the cops are after me."

  Solly grabbed his arm. "This is serious, Jaxon. You haven't seen them in action."

  "Solly's right, Jax," Vivian said. "Don't even think of fighting back. Just run."

  All the humor drained from Jaxon's eyes as he glanced over at the young woman. "I ain't scared."

  "You should be. I don't wanna be scrapin' you off the ground in pieces. Me, if I see it, I'll be runnin' like the Devil's chasin' me."

  Solly climbed out of the driver's seat and scanned the scene, looking for signs of movement. The Reapers might have gone, but there was every chance they'd run into looters and it didn't, after all, matter much where the bullet that killed you came from, the result was the same.

  Solly's mind shifted back to when he'd last come here, seeking medicine to fight the flu epidemic afflicting his community. At first glance, little had changed on the outside. The cars that had been piled on top of each other to make a barrier around the hotel were still there, as was the small gap that formed an entrance. But the metal gate and guards that had protected it were both gone. Neither wall nor gate would have hindered a Reaper; it could simply float over the cars and attack the defenders from above. They wouldn't have stood a chance.

  Cautiously, Solly led them through the entrance. He jumped as dozens of carrion crows flapped into the air, cawing in annoyance as they emerged into the area behind the wall. Bodies lay splayed in all directions—some in small groups where brave fighters had tried to concentrate their fire, others lying where they'd fallen, shot in the back. But there were fewer than Solly had expected. When he'd last been here, the place had been bursting at the seams, but he could only see a couple of dozen bodies. The remainder were either inside or…or they'd been "upgraded" and led away to a new life as slaves of the Lee Corporation.

  "Come on," Solly said, as he stepped over two bodies that had become entwined in death, careful not to look too closely at them. "These people were all fighters. If we're to find Scott, he'll be inside somewhere."

  "If he wasn't taken by the Lee Corporation," Jaxon said, following Solly's footsteps.

  They walked over the shattered glass of the entrance lobby, their gazes sweeping left to right for any sign of Scott. "If he has been, then we're lost. And so is he."

  They found a group of bodies behind the reception counter. A man and woman in bulletproof vests, still clutching the assault rifles that had proven useless against the Reapers. Behind them lay two others—an old woman and a child but, from the way they'd fallen, it was obvious that others had cowered here. Spared from instant death, condemned to a life of slavery. None of them was Scott Lee.

  "We don't know for sure he came here," Vivian said. "Maybe he got mugged and had his gear stolen."

  "I
know. But this is the obvious place to start looking. I don't know why, but I can't help feeling that he might have intended to come here when he left the farmhouse. Maybe he just had a death wish."

  He pushed open the door to the examination room where he'd been cleared to enter the makeshift hospital. It had been only a few weeks ago, but the contrast couldn't be more stark. Where everything had been ordered—a mini-society forming from the ashes of the old civilization—now there was nothing but broken furniture, shattered glass and the fractured remains of people.

  Solly took the lead, examining each of the people and expecting to look into the face of Scott Lee at any moment. But he wasn't here.

  They returned to the corridor and opened each room as they went, with Vivian and Jaxon providing cover as Solly gritted his teeth and turned over body after body in what was likely to be a fruitless hunt.

  Upstairs, they found the makeshift hospital. The floor had been converted to the purpose by having most of the doors and walls between the rooms removed to make four large wards.

  Bile rose in the back of Solly's throat as he slipped into the first one. A stench inhabited the room that reminded him of the tunnel in New York City, except that here he couldn't ignore the cause of the stink. Bodies lay on blood-drenched bedding, on the debris-strewn floor and curled up in corners. There had been no discrimination here. The Reapers had simply opened fire and then picked off any survivors. These people were sick, and the Lee Corporation had no use for them when it had so many fit slaves to make.

  Even up here, there was evidence that others had looted since this had happened. Footprints in the blood, missing equipment, beds that had obviously been moved. Every time he thought he'd seen the worst of humanity, it managed to surprise him.

  "Don't come inside," he said, turning to Jaxon and Viv, who stood in the doorway. "Go down to the restaurant, there are offices on that floor, and storerooms. I'll see you down there when I've checked for him in these rooms."

  "Solly, you can't do this on your own," Jaxon said.

  Solly waved him away. "I've got to," he said. "Now, go look downstairs. Be careful, though. Watch out for looters."

  He returned to his grim task. He would not allow those young people to be contaminated further by having to come face-to-face with this brutality; not if he could take on the burden himself. He wondered, as he turned over the next body—a young woman with a bullet hole above her right eye—what this was doing to his own soul. Solly looked down at the woman's dull gray face, patches of black spreading across the thickening skin, and searched for emotion. He allowed himself to think about the person who'd once dwelt in that broken body, about someone who'd survived the Long Night and had sought safety here, only to have life ripped from her by the cold logic of a machine mind. As he paused, gazing down at her, he felt his eyes moisten. Raising the drawbridge against the emotional tide that threatened his sanity, he stood up and said farewell to her, relieved to find that deep within still lurked the sort of human being he wanted to be.

  By the time he'd checked the last of the four wards, Solly's mind had shut down entirely. He could no longer think of these victims as human beings. He could no longer afford empathy. Shambling back into the main corridor, he turned to follow the others downstairs when he noticed that there was one more room at the end of the corridor. It was behind the first intact door he'd seen on this floor. A hand-written blood-stained slip of paper with "Dr. Harper" written on it had been pinned to the wall to one side.

  Solly gripped the Glock, took hold of the doorknob and gently turned it. As the gap widened, he could see daylight leaking into the room, and he led with his handgun as he cautiously peered inside.

  Mercifully, there were no bodies inside, so he took a deep breath and shut the door behind him. The room had been turned upside down, presumably by looters in the days since the attack. The door of a small safe was wide open and papers lay scattered on the floor. An old desk sat in the middle of the room, covered in trash beneath which Solly found a laptop with its lid closed. It went to show how priorities had changed since the Long Night that it was still here when so much else had been taken.

  He was getting ready to brave the stench of the hotel corridor when he noticed another door in a corner of the little office. It looked as though it might hide a storage closet and he was surprised to see it still closed. With a sigh, he walked over to it, scattering papers, boxes and furniture as he went, and turned the handle.

  Solly pushed the door, which opened onto darkness. It smelled in here, but of life, not death. He tensed as he thought he spotted movement in a corner of the room and then, ice poured into his gut as a red light activated and a telltale whirring hum filled the little room.

  A voice called out. "Go! Or I'll set it on you!"

  Solly spun around and tore through the office before hitting the wall of stench in the main corridor. He was halfway to the stairs, propelled by raw animal terror, when he stopped. It wasn't following him. And he realized that he knew that voice.

  It took every ounce of courage for Solly Masters to turn back and approach the open office door. As he hid to one side of it, he could hear the Reaper. It didn't sound as though it had moved since he'd run from it.

  "Scott? Are you in there?"

  After a few moments, a voice called out. "Go away! I'll set it on you!"

  It was him. "Scott, it's Solly. I've come to find you," he said as he waited, torn between relief and terror.

  "Solly? I thought you were dead. Or in Texas. No! It's a trick! Go! I mean it!"

  There was nothing else for it. Solly was as certain as he could be that the Reaper had been damaged. There was no other explanation for it remaining behind when it had prey to hunt. But thinking something through logically was quite a different matter to having to face the thing.

  He sneaked a look around the doorframe and into the doctor's office and, seeing no movement, slipped inside. As quickly as he could, he sneaked across the floor and peered into the store room. It was still there, sitting on the metal desk that occupied most of the floor space inside. Its rotors were spinning, and its infrared transmitter was flashing a dull scarlet, but it showed no signs of rising into the air and its weapons hung limp from beneath it.

  Scott Lee sat behind the Reaper with his legs bunched up under his chin.

  "I'm coming in, Scott," Solly said but, as he appeared in the doorway, a deafening bang sent him scurrying backwards in a shower of splinters. "For God's sake, man, it's me, it's Solly!"

  "No! You want to hand me over to them. I don't want to see Annabel again! I don't, I don't."

  He was raving. Solly wondered whether his mind had descended so far into madness that he'd be useless to them. He wondered whether it was worth the risk to save him. But it was no use trying to play hardball. He'd never particularly liked Scott, but he couldn't be abandoned to his fate. At some point, the Lee Corporation would notice that one of its Reapers was missing and they'd come for it. That gave him an idea.

  "Scott, Annabel's coming. Let's get away while we can!"

  Solly heard the sound of limbs kicking out. "Where? Where is she?"

  He stepped inside and flung himself at Scott, grabbing the weapon from his hand. Though he resisted for a moment, Lee gave in surprisingly quickly and Solly sat back up again.

  "Good grief, when did you last have anything to eat or drink?" he said. Scott's cheekbones stuck out like elbows and his black-ringed eyes were sunken as he looked up at Solly, barely registering his presence.

  Solly put his arms under Lee and helped him up. "So, what's the story with the Reaper? It's obviously damaged."

  He caught a momentary flash of derision, but Scott didn't even have the energy to bait him. "They got lucky. Shot the undercarriage off it. They were going to destroy it, but the other one came. I brought it in here. It will float if you touch the activation contact, but that's all."

  "Can we bring it with us?" Solly asked. For the past few weeks, he'd felt as though he were putt
ing together an invisible jigsaw puzzle that only revealed itself when the last piece was put in place. His instinct told him that Alison was one piece, and the damaged Reaper was another. Scott Lee filled another gap. They all had to come together.

  Lee pushed against the drone's side and Solly jumped as its rotors spun. Even without its weapons, the thing emitted a visceral sense of imminent dread. It lifted, then hovered a few feet from the table top, and Solly was able to push it along like a large air hockey puck.

  "Solly!"

  It was Vivian's voice. "What now?"

  She ran into the little room and stopped in her tracks, drawing her weapon.

  "Don't shoot," Solly barked. "It's damaged. We're taking it back. Now, what's the problem?"

  "People outside, trying to break into the Humvee!"

  Without another word, Solly handed Scott over to Vivian and sprinted out of the office, through the stinking corridor and down the stairs.

  Jaxon was waiting at the barrier, weapon drawn, as Solly ran past him and out through the missing gate.

  "Get away from there!" he yelled, all caution abandoned. They had to keep the Humvee, or they'd struggle to get back safely.

  Four figures were gathered around the driver's door. One of them was trying to crowbar it open. Moron. They spun around as Solly ran at them.

  The sight of three shotguns brought Solly to a halt.

  "Three against one, man," said the one with the crowbar.

  Solly felt Jaxon at his shoulder. "Count again."

  The leader straightened up and drew a Ruger from down the back of his jeans. "Four against two. Now drop your pieces or we gonna mess you up."

  Solly and Jaxon stood, each covering two of the car thieves.

  "I said, drop your guns!"

  With a sigh, Solly began lowering his weapon. Even the Humvee wasn't worth this risk to Jaxon's life.

  Quite suddenly, one of the thugs looked beyond them and let out a cry. "Run!" he called before turning tail. Only the leader had the presence of mind to cover them with his sidearm as he followed them across the parking lot and away.