“You’re delusional.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Your baby won’t last more than a week, if it even lasts more than a few days.”
“Shut up.”
“Your best bet is a miscarriage.”
Carl shot to his feet, gritting his teeth at the pain in his bad leg. “I said shut your goddamn mouth.”
“And if you don’t miscarry, I wonder just how long before you decide to eat the baby.”
Carl charged ahead. The space was barely more than 10 feet, but Tobias saw him coming and knew what he needed to do next. After all, he had been working the piece of cloth keeping his wrists bound together to the metal ring the entire time. Working the cloth back and forth against the sharp part of the ring. Back and forth, back and forth, until he could sense the thread about ready to give. And it was now, as Carl came at him, that he put all his force into tearing the cloth apart. It happened, but not before Carl’s fist once again connected with Tobias’s jaw. Instead of staying where he was with his back against the wall, though, Tobias’s body fell over.
Carl stopped all at once, noticing that this wasn’t right but not quite sure yet what it meant.
Beth shouted, “Carl, he’s loose!”
Tobias rolled over, jumped to his feet, and threw his entire weight into Carl. He was aiming for center mass and that’s exactly where he landed this time, pushing the man into the concrete wall. Carl kneed Tobias in the stomach, and Tobias punched him once in the leg, right where the Bowie had stabbed him earlier today.
Carl howled.
Tobias spun him around, his arm around Carl’s throat, keeping the man in front of him as he stared back at Beth now aiming a handgun at them.
“Let him go,” she said.
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m the one holding a gun here.”
“Yeah, and I’m the one using your boyfriend as a shield.”
“He’s not shielding all of you, though.”
“No, but I’m betting you’re not a very good shot, otherwise you would have fired that pistol by now.”
Beth said nothing.
Carl struggled against Tobias’s hold, throwing his elbows back toward Tobias, but Tobias didn’t loosen his grip.
“So now what does this mean?” Beth asked.
“I think this is what’s called a stalemate.”
“What do you want?”
“To leave. Get my things back, walk out of here alive, and never see either of you two again.”
The gun didn’t waver in her hand. “I’m not sure if we can do that.”
“Do you want me to kill the father of your child?”
“No.”
“Then I think you can do that, and you will. First, put the gun down.”
“Don’t do it, baby,” Carl said.
Tobias tightened his hold on Carl’s throat. Carl struggled again, but the more he struggled, the more pressure Tobias applied.
Beth shouted, “Okay, okay! I’ll put the gun down.”
Before she could, though, the makeshift bell hanging from the hatch cover began to jingle.
Two things happened simultaneously: Beth turned away from them, pivoting toward the tunnel that led to the hatch, and Carl stopped struggling in Tobias’s arms. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. They just stood there and listened to the faint jingling, tin against tin, and beyond it, almost too quiet, the sound of screeching and clicking.
Tobias pushed Carl away and immediately started toward the corner of weapons.
Carl grabbed his arm. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
He jerked his arm out of Carl’s grasp, stepped close to the man. Staring him down in the near-dark wasn’t nearly as intimating as he would have liked, but right now he didn’t have time to worry about such things.
“I’m grabbing a weapon to protect myself from the abbies. Is that okay with you?”
“How…how did they find us?” Beth asked, keeping the gun aimed down the tunnel.
Tobias thought it over for a beat. “Your leg,” he whispered to Carl.
“What?”
“You left a trail of blood all the way here.”
He stepped away from Carl, slowly, testing the waters. When the man didn’t try to grab Tobias again, he bent and grabbed his Smith & Wesson from the pile. Checking the load, he whispered, “You might want to grab a gun, too.”
Carl ducked down and grabbed a rifle.
Tobias asked, “Does the hatch have a lock?”
Beth gave a quick shake of her head. “No lock. It just latches.”
“How have you dealt with situations like this before?”
For the first time she looked away from the tunnel to stare back at him. “We’ve never had this happen.”
The bell jingled again, this time even louder. The distant screeching and clicking became even more frantic.
“It should be okay,” Carl whispered. “They’re just fucking animals. There’s no way they can open that hatch.”
As if in response, the bell all at once stopped jingling. Silence. Not even the distant screeching or clicking.
“See,” Carl whispered, “I told you there was nothing to wo—”
The jingling again, much louder this time, as the hatch was torn open. The distant screeching and clicking noises started up once again, now louder and more intense.
Tobias crouched to a knee and gripped the pistol with two hands. It was still day outside, though barely, just a little sun left in the sky to let in a modicum of light. Shadows moved off the side of the concrete.
It didn’t take long before the first abby ventured down the ladder. It didn’t so much climb down as it dropped, hitting the concrete and squealing in pain.
Beth fired the first shot. It took out the abby’s shoulder.
It roared in outrage, turning toward the tunnel.
Tobias put a bead on the abby’s head, his finger on the trigger. Squeezed. One of the abby’s eyes disappeared in a splash of blood. It stood motionless for a second, then fell to the ground.
Almost immediately another abby dropped down through the hatch, followed by a second. All three of them opened fire at the same time, the cacophony in the tight space deafening.
Beth’s gun went empty first. She ducked down and ran behind Tobias and Carl to grab another gun, then came back just as Tobias’s gun went empty. He hurried to the corner, looked through the scattered display of weapons—knifes, pistols, even two grenades—and grabbed his Winchester.
By the time he returned to his previous spot, the two abbies were riddled with bullets. One attempted to charge down the tunnel, but it only got a few feet before Carl shot it in its head.
As soon as the last abby fell, all three of them stopped shooting. Cordite thick in the air. Tobias’s ears ringing.
Carl coughed. He whispered, “Is that it?”
They waited. Silence.
“Now,” Beth said quietly, and before Tobias knew it the barrel of Carl’s rifle was in his face.
“Drop it,” Carl said.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Do it now or I will shoot you.”
“I just helped save your lives.”
“And we appreciate that, truly, but drop the rifle now.”
As Carl spoke, his focus on Tobias, Beth started down the tunnel. She approached the first abby slowly, cautiously, as if expecting it to jump up and attack her at any moment.
“Don’t make me tell you again,” Carl said.
Tobias worked it through his head. Right now the angle of the rifle was pointed down at the ground. Would only take a half-second to turn it toward Carl. Maybe another half-second to pull the trigger. It was certainly doable, but he had to take into account the fact the darkness of the rifle’s barrel was staring back at him less than five feet away. No matter how he played it, Carl had the advantage.
Tobias gave a slight nod and let go of the rifle. It clattered to the ground.
Up the tunnel, Beth had
bypassed the first dead abby. She was coming to the base of the ladder and the three other dead abbies, aiming her gun toward the top of the hatch.
“Be careful, baby,” Carl said, his gaze not leaving Tobias’s face.
Beth nudged one of the dead abbies with the tip of her shoe, her gun pointed at the abby’s head. No movement.
“I think we’re good,” she said, turning back and lowering her weapon. “At least, I don’t hear any of them up—”
The screeching just then was the loudest Tobias had ever heard it. It didn’t come from any of the three fallen abbies, but from somewhere up top.
Beth tilted her face up, and he saw in the fading light the surprise and fear in her eyes. She went to raise her gun, but by then the talons swooped down and grabbed her hair. She immediately jerked back, trying to fight out of the hold, but another talon appeared and tore into her shoulder.
She didn’t even scream. Didn’t even shout. She just stared back down the tunnel for a split second, a split instant, and then she was gone.
Carl saw it in Tobias’s eyes. His back was to the carnage, and he started to turn, opening his mouth to call out Beth’s name.
Tobias stepped forward, clamped his hand over Carl’s mouth. Into his ear he whispered, “If you make a sound, we’re both dead.”
Somewhere up top the screeching and clicking continued, though it sounded like it was moving away.
Beth cried out, a hurried, gargled noise. Carl stiffened and went to push away Tobias’s hand. Tobias swung his other arm around Carl’s neck, just like he had minutes earlier, and pressed down on the man’s windpipe.
“You pieces of shit were going to eat me, and I’m not dying for you.”
Carl didn’t struggle like Tobias thought he would. He was trembling, though, his entire body shaking. Slightly, ever so slightly, he nodded his head.
Tobias released the chokehold and his hand over the man’s mouth and stepped back.
Carl spun around at once.
Tobias eyed the rifle on the floor, calculating just how quickly he could snatch it up before Carl fired his own rifle, but Carl simply stared back at him.
“Help her.” His voice a cracked whisper.
Tobias held Carl’s glassy stare. “Fuck you.”
Carl wiped at his eyes. He was trying his best not to break down and was having a hard time of it. “If not for her,” he whispered, “then for our…for the baby.”
Everything in Tobias told him to say no. Everything told him to grab the rifle off the floor and shoot Carl dead. After all, it wasn’t like the man had anything to live for anymore.
But he could still hear the abbies off in the distance, their screeching and clicking growing fainter, and with the abbies he heard Beth screaming and crying out for help. And he thought about the baby growing in her womb. One of the first children of the Time After. A child conceived outside of Wayward Pines.
Tobias said, “You realize I won’t be able to save either of them. Not like how you want me to.”
Tears fell down Carl’s face. He nodded his head in quick jerks. “Just make it fast,” he whispered.
Tobias grabbed the Winchester off the floor, pushed past Carl toward the corner of weapons. He grabbed extra ammunition, stuffed the rounds he needed in his pocket, and turned back to Carl.
“Stay here. With that wound, you won’t be able to outrun them if they come after you.”
Even I won’t be able to outrun them if they come after me.
Tobias didn’t wait for a response. He headed down the tunnel, grabbed the ladder, and climbed toward the failing light.
Tobias followed the screaming. It was distant at first, faint, but the faster he went—loading the Winchester as he ran—the sooner the screaming became distinct and he knew exactly where she was.
He went even faster, dodging limbs and branches. The sun was already dipping below the horizon. It wouldn’t be much longer now before he lost the sunlight completely. Vaulting over a fallen tree, he almost twisted his ankle but managed to stay upright and kept pushing forward.
Beth’s screaming had changed into crying. Begging the monsters to let her go. It was useless on her part, and Tobias suspected she knew as much, but she didn’t seem to care. She knew what the abbies planned to do with her once they returned to their den, or nest, or whatever the fuck it was they called home.
The trees opened up ahead of him and he saw them there in a clearing. Four abbies and Beth. Two of them were dragging her, the others keeping pace beside them. It was now or never.
Tobias skidded to a stop. Crouched down, held the rifle up, settled in behind the scope. The distance was maybe 300 yards. More than feasible under the circumstances. Except the abbies were moving quickly.
Beth was struggling against the two dragging her. The sunlight was almost gone.
Tobias took in a breath. Let it out. Took in another breath. Put his finger to the trigger. Let out the breath. Squeezed.
The Winchester kicked against his shoulder and the ground just beside the cluster of abbies coughed up dirt. Damn it.
Tobias turned the bolt handle up, jerked it back. The spent cartridge spat out and clattered to the grass. He shoved the bolt forward, locked it down, took aim again.
The four abbies had paused momentarily to look back the way the gunshot had come. In the middle of them was Beth, or what was left of Beth, her clothes torn to pieces, blood oozing from her wounds.
He settled the crosshairs right on her head. Right on the spot between her eyes. She seemed to know it, too, staring back toward the trees as if she could see him.
In his head, he heard Carl’s voice. If not for her, then for our…for the baby.
He tilted the rifle down just a bit and squeezed the trigger. The Winchester kicked against his shoulder again and the spot in Beth’s belly instantly opened up with red.
She cried out, her body jerking, and the two abbies holding her let go. She slumped to the ground onto her knees. Holding her bleeding belly.
He ejected the spent shell, jacked a new cartridge into the chamber, locked down the bolt. Stared back through the scope at Beth staring back at him.
She closed her eyes, nodded once, and he squeezed the trigger again.
Her head snapped back a half-second after the Winchester kicked against his shoulder and the report echoed across the clearing.
The four abbies, first confused by the gunfire, suddenly went wild. They started jumping around the dead body, screaming and screeching their outrage.
Tobias felt in his pocket for the other rounds he had brought. Three more. Those plus the rounds still in the rifle might be enough to finish the rest of these abbies if need be. Assuming they didn’t charge at him all at once. Assuming there weren’t more on the other side of the clearing, just waiting to join the swarm. His best bet, he knew, was to make a break for it while he still could.
Standing up, he stared once more into the clearing, at Beth dead and bleeding on the ground, at the four abbies circling her body, and turned away.
Carl stood directly behind him. In his hand was a pistol.
Tobias thought, Shit, and began to raise his rifle up in defense.
But Carl lowered the pistol to his side. He nodded his head once, just like Beth. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“We need to leave.”
“No. You go. I…I’m going to stay.” He lifted his other hand, showing Tobias what was there. “Go,” Carl whispered. Tears were still in his eyes. “Just…go.”
In the clearing behind Tobias, the tone of the abbies’ screams and screeches had changed. He glanced over his shoulder and saw them coming now, charging for their location.
Tobias didn’t say another word. He stepped past Carl and started running. He only glanced back after a couple seconds, moving backward, watching Carl walk out through the trees into the clearing.
Carl fired the pistol at the approaching abbies, but the shots were wild and none of the creatures went down. That didn’t matter, though,
because what Carl had in his other hand was what would do the trick.
Tossing the empty pistol aside, Carl pulled the pins from the two grenades, one after the other. Still walking forward, slowly, as the abbies charged at him. Twenty yards away. Fifteen yards. Ten yards. Five.
Tobias turned away at the last moment. The blast was deafening. And then…silence.
Still not looking back, Tobias shouldered the Winchester and kept moving forward.
No lanterns were still lit inside the shelter. If Tobias wanted to descend the ladder and venture down the tunnel to retrieve his things, he would be doing so in complete darkness.
The stink wafting up from down below was almost too much to bear. If he waited until morning, the stink would become a stench, and there was no telling just how much it would soak into his stuff.
The night had come on fast and strong. The sky was clear, and above the trees the stars sparkled in the void. An owl hooted somewhere close by. Crickets chirped.
Tobias shouldered the Winchester, turned and placed his foot on the top rung of the ladder. Waited a beat, and then made his descent.
He took short strides. More of a shuffle than anything else. He had the rifle back in his hands, aimed at the ground. If anything moved, he would shoot it.
Past the dead abbies, down the short tunnel, the darkness thickened. Fortunately the space wasn’t too large.
He started toward the right, where Carl had been going through his backpack.
His imagination told him he wasn’t alone in the dark. That one of the abbies wasn’t completely dead. That another abby had stolen down here while he was gone and was waiting in the corner to make its move.
Shuffling forward, leaning down, he kept going until he found the backpack.
Searching for the zipper, finding it, opening the backpack, he began rummaging through it for his flint and steel. He couldn’t seem to find it, and then remembered his pipe and tobacco were in the front pouch of the backpack along with a book of matches.
He let out a sigh of relief when his fingers found the book. Tore a match from the book, struck it against the coarse strip, telling himself in the instant before the flame caught that there was nothing down here with him, nothing at all.
Wayward Pines: Nomad (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 3
