by Harley Tate
Not that hygiene should come above his own safety, but Colt was sick of being on the defensive. Sick of always being one step behind. After Jarvis, he wanted a break.
The kid with the knife rushed him as he thought it over. A quick jab and Colt parried, dancing back like a boxer. Another stepped forward and swung. Thanks to the kid’s size, he telegraphed everything from the angle of the blow to the force of the impact.
Colt dodged again and the kid stumbled as his fist caught nothing but air. Heat rose off the two who missed, their anger reflected in the bunch of their shoulders and the grimaces on their thick, blocky faces. Brothers, maybe.
“Last chance, boys. Leave now and you won’t get hurt.”
The one in the middle stood watching. “You ain’t gonna shoot us or you’d-a done it already. I bet there ain’t any bullets in that gun.”
So much for the easy way. Colt unslung the rifle and brought it into position. “There’s plenty in this one.” He flicked the safety to single rounds and aimed. “Now get out of here.”
The two on his flanks hesitated and turned to the boy in the middle. He could have been the oldest or the de facto leader or just the biggest bully. Colt didn’t care. If he gave in, the others would too.
Come on, leave.
Out of the punk’s waistband came a tiny revolver. A .22 or a snub nose .38. A piece with accuracy for shit and a kick a kid couldn’t control.
“I’ll drop you before you even take a shot.”
“Come on Sammy, it ain’t worth it.”
The kid brought the gun up with one hand, holding it sideways like idiots did on TV.
“He’s right. You don’t have to do this. Just walk away.”
Sammy’s thick brow shielded his eyes as he struggled with the decision. Colt kept the rifle aimed at his chest. At this range, the bullet would sail through the kid’s chest like a rock through water, but a hit to the heart would still kill.
His finger rested light and easy on the trigger.
The kid stepped back.
Colt exhaled. Maybe this would end well after all. As the kid retreated another step, a metallic clink and slide echoed behind Colt. The restaurant’s rear door was opening. Shit.
“Hey, Colt. You out here? It’s my turn to stand watch.”
The kid with the gun panicked, backpedalling into the dark as he took aim on the rear of the building.
“Get back inside!” Colt shouted, but he knew it was all over.
He aimed at the kid’s chest and fired, but it was too late. The revolver discharged. The booming echo of the shot bounced off of the metal dumpster and carried into the night.
The kid on the left screamed. The kid on the right turned and ran. Sammy still stood, head bent to inspect the hole in his chest. “You shot me. You bastard.” He brought the gun back up, but Colt fired before he had a chance. This time he ended it with a shot to the head.
Sammy crumpled to the ground. The one still standing rushed up, falling to his knees at the sight. “No! Sammy, no!” He reached for the body, hands diving into the thickening blood. He turned to look at Colt. “You didn’t have to shoot him.”
“Yes, I did.”
“He’s my brother. You shot my brother.”
“Your brother tried to kill me.”
Even in the moonlight Colt could see the snot and tears streaming down the boy’s face. “He was backing up. He was gonna leave.”
“I gave him plenty of chances.”
The door to the restaurant banged open again. “What’s going on? Doug, are you…? Oh, no.” Melody rushed up, but Doug grabbed her by the waist and held her back. “We have to help him.”
“It’s too late. He’s dead.” Colt never took his eyes off Sammy’s brother. The kid was still a threat and the gun his brother used was a foot away.
“Get the gun, will you, Doug?”
Doug let his sister go and took a step forward, but the kid lunged for it. Colt didn’t hesitate. He put two quick rounds in the space between his eyes. He died before he hit the ground.
This time Melody didn’t scream. She fainted instead.
Day Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirteen
MELODY
Chili’s
Springfield, Oregon
6:00 a.m.
The cup of coffee in her hand did nothing to stop the shaking. Flashbacks of her fight with Captain Ferguson flashed before her eyes. His hands on her body. The menacing look in his eyes. What he intended to do.
She remembered the way his body jerked with each bullet. How he fell to the ground with life still in his eyes. She’d stood up and hobbled away from the first and only man she’d killed and carried on.
The horror of that moment would always stay with her, but it was nothing compared to this. She glanced up at Colt, sacked out on a makeshift bed across the room. The man shot a pair of kids in cold blood and he slept like he’d just had a boring day at the office.
It turned her stomach.
Her brother eased into the chair beside her. “How are you?”
She cut him a glance.
“Ouch. That good, huh?” He sighed and scooted his chair a bit closer. “Don’t be so hard on Colt. He did what he had to do.”
“No, he didn’t. Shooting that kid wasn’t necessary. He could have taken the gun from him and let him go.”
“You weren’t there, Melody. Not at first.”
“And you were?” She eyed her brother. He looked like he’d been on a three-day bender. Black circles clung beneath his eyes and his skin took on a sallow tone. “You didn’t see the whole thing.”
He rubbed his eyes as if to rid himself of the memory. “You need to lay off Colt.”
“Why?”
Doug waited until she met his eyes. “Because it was my fault. I’m the reason those two kids are dead.”
“What?” Melody couldn’t keep her voice low. “I didn’t see you with a gun in your hand. You’re not the one who shot first.”
His jaw ticked as he forced out the words. “I came outside like an idiot, banging the door open and calling out to Colt.” Doug swallowed hard. “I spooked the kid with the gun. He fired into the dark. The bullet hit a foot from my head and blasted concrete dust all over me. Colt was protecting me.”
Melody glanced back at Colt. Her voice must have carried because he wasn’t sleeping anymore. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her.
She turned back to her brother. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true. If he hadn’t shot the first kid, then who knows what would have happened. I could be dead. So could Colt. He did the right thing.”
Melody pursed her lips. “What about the second one? I was there for it. You could have disarmed him.”
“Not if he got to the gun first.” Doug reached out and took Melody by the arms. His fingers dug in but didn’t hurt. “The world is different now, Mel. You should understand that.”
She shook him off. “I do.”
“Not well enough.”
Melody snorted and turned away. On some level her brother had a point, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Colt had a choice and he opted for the wrong one. Taking a person’s life should be the absolute last resort. It wasn’t like choosing which socks to put on or whether to bike or drive to work.
She glanced up at Colt. He still sat in the same spot, his expression stoic and unreadable. Was this the way the world worked now? Take someone’s life before they take yours? Shoot first and don’t bother to ask questions?
If they had never taken Colt and Dani in, she would still be in Eugene, in her own house, sleeping in her own bed. Not dirty and tired and living like a criminal. A yip sounded from a booth a few tables away and Melody turned. Will and Lottie were playing tug with a dishtowel.
Lottie.
Even if she’d stayed in Eugene, she wouldn’t have been safe. At some point a militia member would have found Lottie. And then what would have happened to her? Lottie would be dead. Melody would have b
een rounded up.
If the bedroom they threw her into was anything to go by, she’d have been forced into unspeakable things sooner or later anyway. Melody rubbed at her face. It was all so unreal.
Maybe Doug was right. Maybe she had to accept that killing was a fact of life now, like peeing behind a bush or in a pit dug in the ground, or using gray water to rinse the grime from her hair.
She wanted to believe otherwise, but the more she thought about it, the more unsure she became of everything. The fate of Oregon, the Pacific Northwest, all of America. Was this same scene playing out all across the country? Were other ordinary people struggling with who to let live and who to kill? How to eat and sleep and not die?
Melody stood up and headed over to Colt. She stopped a few feet away and eased into a chair. He regarded her with calm interest.
She tugged at the corner of her shirt. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time earlier. I know you were protecting us.”
He nodded but didn’t speak.
“You have so much more experience with taking another person’s life. I guess I’m just having a hard time coming to terms with it.”
“It never gets any easier.”
“It doesn’t?”
Colt ran a hand over his head and pinched the back of his neck. “The day ending another person’s life becomes easy is the day I put a bullet in my own skull. It doesn’t matter if I’ve been trained to pull the trigger, Melody. I’m still human. I still feel it.” He put his fist over his heart. “Right here.”
“Then why do it?”
“Because I want to keep living. It’s as simple as that.” Colt stood up with a grimace and headed toward the kitchen.
Melody watched him walk away.
“That man has put his life on the line for you more times than I can count. I’m not sure questioning his humanity is the right way to say thank you.” Larkin stopped beside her chair and offered his hand.
She took it with a frown and stood up. “That’s not what I was doing.”
“When you ask a former SEAL why he kills people, that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
Melody bristled. “I wasn’t questioning his military service.”
“He killed those young men last night for the same reason he killed insurgents on active duty. To protect the freedom everyone in this country takes for granted. Just now it’s on a more localized scale.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I sure as hell hope not.”
Melody stared up at Larkin. He’d always been so quick to lighten the mood or change the subject before. But he was all grim stares and hard lips now. She didn’t want to fight with him or Colt.
After a moment, she tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate. “Is it too much to ask for an uneventful day?”
Larkin relaxed and his whole face changed. The hard angles were gone. “You can always ask. Whether it’ll happen… that’s above my pay grade.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze as he walked away.
Melody exhaled and the weight of the night before settled on her shoulders. She didn’t know if she would ever get used to this new way of living or if she would struggle with every heartbreaking decision and terrible choice. She stood alone in the little corner of the restaurant, thinking about the future and her place in it until Will called out.
“Melody! Come quick! You’ll never believe what they’re doing with the Humvee!”
She smiled at his enthusiasm and followed his bounding form toward the rear of the restaurant and the scene of last night’s horrible nightmare. Part of her wished she could be as innocent and naive as Will. But she wondered, how long would she survive before reality snuffed her out?
Chapter Fourteen
DANI
Chili’s
Springfield, Oregon
7:00 a.m.
“That thing will really run on nasty oil?”
Colt shrugged as the used fryer oil slugged into the gas tank of the Humvee. “Not forever. It’ll get us a couple hundred miles, though, before the filters clog. We might make it all the way to Tahoe.”
“Why not keep searching for diesel?”
“We’ve canvassed at least a mile in every direction. We’re in the middle of a residential area. There aren’t any trucks to siphon.”
Larkin set down the empty jug and picked up the next one while Colt held the funnel ready. “If we find some diesel on the road, we can mix it. That’ll buy us more time before everything gums up and quits.”
“I thought you could run a diesel on vegetable oil no problem.” Doug walked out of the restaurant carrying an armful of water bottles. “One of the firefighters I used to work with was always talking about how he wanted to drive around smelling like a French fry.”
Colt answered without turning around. “The engine can handle it, but the intake valves and the filters can’t. To run unfiltered oil like this, the Humvee needs an adaptor kit we don’t have. Like I said, it’ll run, just not forever.”
Dani watched Colt and Larkin pour the rest of the used oil into the tank in silence. They couldn’t leave without another vehicle. Not if they wanted to take the food from the restaurant, the water, and the empty containers for fuel.
She glanced behind her at the street in the early morning light. After Colt’s run-in the night before, the sooner they hit the road, the better. She pulled the rifle off her shoulder and walked up to Colt. “I’m gonna scout for a car.”
He stood up and wiped his hands on a rag. “Are you sure? Larkin and I can handle it.”
“I’m going crazy standing around. Let me do it.”
After a moment, Colt nodded. “All right. But as soon as you see something promising, come back and let us know.”
She nodded and headed toward the road without another word. Melody and Will stood off to the side, watching Colt and Larkin finish up. Black circles cast deep shadows under Melody’s eyes, and Dani wondered if she’d come to terms with what happened in the parking lot. Dani didn’t doubt the necessity of Colt’s actions. If he believed those kids were a threat, then he should have shot them.
Their world wasn’t an insulated, comfortable bubble anymore. It was rough and dirty and meaner than all get out. She used to wish her life was like Melody’s. A nice house, plenty of food in the fridge, a little dog to keep her company. But now she was almost thankful for her mother.
If she hadn’t grown up part scavenger, part orphan, she would never be able to make the hard choices now. She would be too much like Melody. When confronted with her own safety, Melody could make the tough choices. But when someone else held the power, she couldn’t accept the same outcome. Dani hoped the woman would come around.
She left the restaurant on the corner behind and darted across the road. The house across the street appeared vacant, with foot-tall weeds in the front yard and a broken front step. Dani skirted the house, hugging the siding as she tucked in between a bush and the exterior wall. The street turned residential fast, with nothing but houses as far as she could see.
One of them would have a car.
Taking off for the next house, she paused at the edge of the driveway. A single-car detached garage lurked in the back corner of the lot. Dani hustled toward it, ever mindful of her exposed position. She took cover behind the edge of the structure and searched for a window. Nothing.
If she wanted inside, she would have to open the door. She glanced up. The house appeared dark and quiet, but not obviously empty. No trash strewn about. No broken window or porch swing. To open the garage door, she would have her back to the windows.
Too risky. She pushed on, passing four or five more houses without success. At the next block, another garage caught her eye. The house it accompanied suffered more than the rest. Peeling paint. Cracked concrete, a basketball hoop without a net.
Dani eased around the rear of the building, skirting a knocked-over trash can and pile of decomposing garbage. The air hung thick around her like a wet wool blanket, and she cov
ered her nose against the stench. At least the rain held off.
She ducked low, head barely clearing a row of bushes, and ran for the garage. The door was shut and Dani groaned in frustration. What were the chances a car still sat on a driveway in this neighborhood? From the looks of it, slim to none.
The thugs who took on Colt the night before didn’t seem the type to discriminate between houses and restaurants. If something of value remained on this street after the power went out, it was long gone now. She sucked in a breath.
I’ll have to risk it.
Dani crouched low against the side of the garage and assessed the danger. Three windows on the back of the house, all dark and apparently empty. Line of sight from the garage door to the street and the house opposite. The wood fence running along the driveway obscured her approach from the house next door, but that didn’t bring her much comfort.
I’ll be a sitting duck.
With a deep breath, she pushed the rifle on her back and went for it. Darting to the door, she grabbed the black-painted metal handle and pulled. Paint flecked off in her hand, but the door only creaked in protest. She crouched low and tried again, putting her legs and back into the effort. The ancient wood groaned and shook and rose about a half an inch before Dani lost her grip.
She staggered back and gripped her jeans above the knees. Air sawed in and out of her lungs.
One more try. That’s all she would allow herself. Dani sucked in a breath, clenched her abs, and heaved. The door wobbled, rose an inch or two, and threatened to fall. But Dani refused to let go. Yanking with all her strength, she shoved the door up high enough to grab the bottom before it fell. With her shoulders and back joining the effort, the lumbering beast finally lifted.
As it rocked back into place above her head, Dani sagged to her knees. Her lungs burned, her legs ached, but her eyes widened with hope. The grill of a rusty old pickup sat a foot from her face. She lurched upright and stumbled forward, gripping the dusty front fender for support as she eased around the vehicle.
