'Leave him alone!' Abi screeched. She was sitting on the ground, rocks probably crawling up into her gusset, and watching as Shane unleashed everything he had on Lukas. The noise of each punch made her wince, and she began to sob, no doubt realising that whatever happened – if they made it through the night alive – her man, her Adonis, was going to look a helluva lot rougher than when she fell in love with him.
Shane prised the shotgun out of Lukas's obstinate grip and launched it as far as he could towards the opposite platform. It clattered against the concrete, but was almost inaudible as Shane bombarded the back of Lukas's flailing body with punches and knees.
It felt good.
To Shane, at least.
River returned from the car with her machete; the way she was swinging it should have worried Abi; Marla had seen her utilise the blade like that a couple of times before, and blood had always followed.
Shane finally decided to back off. He was tired, and Lukas was almost motionless. He climbed off the asshole's back and took a few steps away.
'Nice,' Marla said. 'He could have shot you, you idiot.' She was obviously annoyed at Shane's sudden heroics, but also satisfied with how it had turned out.
'Not with the shotgun, he couldn't,' Shane said. 'Let's just say I found a little time this afternoon to make the shells less . . . what's the word? . . . effective.'
'Ahhhh,' Marla smiled. 'Prey tell.'
'I took them out,' Shane said.
Marla's smile faded. 'Wait, you took them out? So the fucker had all afternoon to check or put new ones in?'
Shane nodded throughout. 'Yup.'
Abi, who didn't appear to know what to do with herself so just stood, trembling, said, 'What? You left us exposed over there with no fucking bullets?'
God, she really did grate after a while. Shane didn't dislike the girl – she hadn't really had a choice in what had just gone down between them and Lukas, that was pretty obvious – but he reckoned that given time, he'd grow to loathe everything about her, every inch of her annoying little soul, if indeed she possessed one.
On the ground, Lukas began to stir. He groaned, groggily began to work his way back onto his haunches, his one hand stemming the flow of blood from his left ear, which looked jet-black in the dark of night.
'What if he'd checked the gun, Shane?' Marla whispered, as if speaking it aloud would put ideas into Lukas the betrayer's head, ideas that were a few minutes too late.
'You're a doctor, remember?'
'Yeah, but I never really got to practice much on gunshot wounds at the pen. Those kind of weapons are sorta frowned upon behind bars, so it wasn't part of my core curriculum.'
'Plus, he would have called me on it while we were on our knees. Prick like him would have got off on rumbling my little ruse.'
Shane was right; Lukas was the kind of guy who showed all of his cards at the first safe opportunity, like a shit Bond villain.
'Hey, you got to be Bond after all,' Marla said.
Shane took his gun from Marla and struck a pose. 'What do you think?'
'Think you look like a cunt!' Abi whimpered from the darkness. Even when beaten, the petite scrumpling had a mouth like a veteran truck-driver.
Marla aimed the Baretta towards Abi, who gasped and feared the worst.
Lukas was still groaning, patting the back of his head as if something had crawled into his ear and he was trying to free it.
Just then there was a noise in the trees. Marla whipped her gun across; River raised her machete, and . . .
'What the hell is going on here?' Terry asked as he stepped out of the surrounding woods.
Shane smiled.
With Terry present, they could set to work on Judas and his fake-wife.
'Got ourselves a small problem,' Shane said, though he smiled as the words crossed his lips.
To Shane, one problem had just resolved itself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
'Where are you taking us, you fuck!?' Lukas was, as ever, a charmer. The gun pointing at him made no difference, to him or the annoying little creature that worshipped him. The fact that they couldn't see the gun – or anything, for that matter – probably made them so uncomfortable and disorientated that a few obscenities were to be expected.
'Just keep moving,' Shane said. 'And try to tone the language down, will ya? Terry here's a man of God.'
'Ain't no fuckin' God,' Lukas snapped, the oily rag gaffer-taped to his face muffling his words but not enough to silence him. 'You're gonna wish there was when I get out of this, 'cos we're comin' after you fucks . . . you're fucking with the wrong asshole!'
'So you keep saying,' Shane said. 'And you got one thing right.'
Lukas stopped walking. 'What?'
'You are an asshole. Now one foot in front of the other, and don't even think about stopping until I tell you to.'
Lukas didn't move. In fact, he turned a little as if to provoke Shane into doing something he might regret. 'And what if we don't?'
Shane sighed. 'Look, you're gonna want to do what I say because it's the only thing that'll guarantee you get to wake up in the morning.' He lifted the gun, tapped Lukas's covered forehead with the barrel. 'You don't think I'll do it, do you? Perhaps I won't; perhaps I haven't got the balls to shoot you and your pretty little gremlin, and maybe the reason why I won't is because I know that I'll have to live with it.' He paused, pushed the barrel into the stained rag covering Lukas's head. 'Or maybe I will, because right now all that matters to me is this guy, and those people back at the yard, and you trying to fuck with them has royally pissed me off. So, do you want to test me?'
Abi, who was standing a few feet away, whimpered as if she feared Lukas would push his luck. 'Baby, please . . .'
The next time he spoke, it was with an assurance that belied their current predicament. 'I'm gonna come for you,' he said. 'I don't care if it takes the rest of my fucking life, I'll catch up to you and I'll kill you.'
Shane smiled, although the threat sent a shudder through him. 'Just walk,' he said. 'And keep the pleasantries to a minimum, will ya?'
Lukas turned and began to pace forward again. Level with Abi, they continued into the woods. After about fifteen minutes of walking, Shane pulled them up.
'Here?' Terry asked.
'It's as good a place as any,' Shane said, glancing around the trees. 'It'll keep them lost until we're a hundred miles away. I mean, if we hadn't been leaving signs would you be able to find your way back to the yard?'
Terry shook his head. 'Doubt it.'
Every hundred feet or so, Terry had tied yellow twine around a branch. On the way back they would cut the strings away, leaving Lukas and Abi unclear on the direction leading back to the train.
At least until it had already departed.
'So you're just gonna fucking leave us out here?' Abi whined. Her nasally voice was akin to nails on a chalkboard. 'You're practically killing us without having to pull the fucking trigger.'
'Shut up,' Lukas told her. 'It don't matter. We're gonna kill 'em, either way.'
Again with the threats; anyone would think that Lukas had the gun, the rope, the blindfolds and the gumption to know which way the train was.
Shane reached up to Lukas's shoulders and forced him to his knees.
'Whathefu—'
'Just a little extra security,' Shane said as he pushed the struggling figure back against the tree. 'I'm going to tie a few knots. Not too many, but enough to keep you working for an hour or so. Same for your girlfriend.'
'You cunt!' Lukas snapped, and then spat, but of course the saliva didn't get any further than the rag on his face, if it left his mouth at all. 'What if those fucking things come?'
'What? Lurkers?' Shane said as he wrapped the rope around Lukas's wrist and then the thick trunk of the tree.
'Yeah.'
'Well, I doubt they'll be this far out. Terry, what do you think?'
'Nah,' Terry said. He was binding Abi to an adjacent tree, and Abi was being a good girl
for a change, accepting there was nothing they could do to prevent such treatment. 'You might get the odd one, but you should be able to keep one off, big tough guy like you. Just keep kicking it away and working on the knots. Shane, do his extra-tight; he's got nails like a cougar.'
'Will do, Terry,' Shane said, yanking the rope taut.
'And then what?' Lukas asked. 'We're unarmed, you pricks. You just gonna leave us in this fucking hellhole without a weapon?'
Shane leaned back on his haunches. Lukas was right; they could do this, bring them out and tie them to trees in the middle of the darkest night, but could they really leave them without weapons, without the shotgun that was rightfully theirs? Shane thought in silence for a few seconds. The only problem he had was Lukas's intentions when they managed to get free. Leaving the shotgun was analogous to offering permission for retribution. Here, take this and come find us . . .
'He's right,' Terry said. 'Guy's a prick, but we can't take their gun, not in this world, not with those things gnawing around like sewer-rats.'
Shane stood, checked the rope holding Lukas to the tree. 'Okay, Lukas, I'll leave your gun and ammo in the woods; just follow the string. But I need you to acknowledge that I'm doing this as a favour, because as much as I should blow your fucking head off, I don't need your death on my conscience. I'll be leaving the gun so that you, and your woman, can move on. Go, any direction other than ours. How's that sound?'
Lukas growled. If there were words in it, they were incomprehensible.
'I'll take that as a yes,' Shane said. 'Terry, is she secure?'
'About as stable as you're gonna get her,' Terry said, coiling the remaining rope around his wrist. 'Should keep them busy for an hour or so.'
An hour was all they needed. Even if they decided to ignore Shane's good nature and retaliate, an hour on the ropes, another hour trying to figure out which direction they were facing, it would be plenty of time.
'Let's find a place for this shotgun and get back,' Shane said. He turned, glanced down at the two bound figures in the darkness; first at Lukas, who was already starting to kick and struggle, and then Abi, who was whimpering, whining, but very little else. 'I'd like to say it's been a pleasure,' he said, 'but it really hasn't.'
'Fuck you, prick!' Lukas grunted.
Shane and Terry left them there to work for their freedom. By the time they were out of the ropes, the train would be careering south, towards the coast, to where hope lived.
*
The flash came first, blinding her. Ten seconds later and the thunderous roar reached the field in which she stood, alone. Despite being unable to see, she knew there was a prodigious mushroom-cloud forming in the sky, pushing inexorably upwards and outwards, eclipsing the sun entirely and shifting regular clouds aside as if they were encroaching on its territory.
She took a breath, not knowing if it would be her last. She didn't know which would reach her first, the shock-wave from the blast, turning her to dust in the wind, or the thermal radiation – which would cook her where she stood. She didn't want either, and as she tried to blink away her flashblindness – hoping that her retina burn was temporary – she felt her heart speed up so much that her entire body racked with panic.
Why do you want to see? she asked herself. Why would you want to witness what's about to happen?
The whole thing about your life flashing before your eyes at the moment of death was bullshit. She'd had almost an entire minute since the nuke exploded, and all she'd thought about was how it was going to feel . . . melting . . . cooking so fast that she imploded.
Was she wasting time, using her last moments on something that was inevitable. She tried to push the thought of melting away and ignore the approaching rumble, and replace it with images of Gabriella.
Here was the girl dressed in pink for her first birthday party . . .
Here, again in pink, this time she was four and had already started to like boys . . .
Here she was wearing green – a minor blip which would last only a few days before returning to pink – and getting ready for the movies . . .
The roar loudened.
Here Gabriella was dressed as a witch, standing by the front-door with a hollow, empty plastic pumpkin. By the end of the night it would be spilling over with sickly treats and sweets . . .
And now the heat was unbearable.
Here she was with an outstretched hand, a tiny tooth rolling around in her palm, and she was grinning to reveal the gap in her top row.
And now, there was a massive blast all around, and the smell of burnt hair and scorched flesh.
Emma's flesh.
It was peeling from her; she could feel it. Flaps of it pulling away and floating along on the wave.
There was no pain, just the knowledge of what was happening.
Here was Gabriella wearing a yellow tutu, her left leg extended unnaturally upwards. The ballerina-period had only lasted a few days, too, but they had been long and tiresome days.
And then . . .
Blackness.
Emma lunged forward, a panicky gasp escaping her throat. Her sweat-soaked skin had trapped the sheet, causing it to cling to her.
She took a deep breath.
Beside her, Dredd slept on.
She lowered herself slowly down and attempted to regulate her breathing.
Just a dream . . .
But tomorrow it wouldn't be. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. She couldn't sleep, and instead listened to the wind as it pattered around outside the tent.
Tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When they arrived back at the CN Yard, Shane and Terry looked as if they had just spent six months in the wilderness. Various twigs and shrubs had attached to them, and Terry was plucking bits of brush from his silvery beard and flicking them away like boogers.
Marla, who had been sitting around the fire – which they had going again, in a manner of speaking – jumped to her feet as the duo emerged and walked along the platform.
'Thank God for that,' she said. 'I half-expected to hear gunshots. Didn't think that guy would cooperate.'
Shane hugged her, then stepped aside and Terry leaned in. 'He didn't have a lot of choice,' Shane said. 'We gave them their marching orders, so let's just hope they stay true to their word.'
Marla, finishing hugging Terry, stepped back. Her confusion was visible. 'What do you mean?'
'That they forget all about us.' Shane replied. It was at this point that Marla noticed the missing shotgun.
'Oh, please tell me you didn't give them their gun back.' She looked positively distraught. 'Shane, please—'
'Look, we couldn't leave them out there with no means of defending themselves,' Shane said, pinching his nose between thumb and forefinger to stave off the early threat of migraine. 'We'd be as bad as them.'
'Don't worry,' Terry said, arching his back like a cat might after a long sleep. 'They're not getting back here this morning, and we'll be gone within the hour, so let's just concentrate on that for now.'
'You really don't think he'll come after us?' Marla asked. It was apparent that Lukas had affected her with his brutish behaviour, and Shane was annoyed that she was doubting his ability to protect her.
'If he does,' Shane said. 'I'll personally put a bullet in his face, and two in that annoying girlfriend of his.'
'And what makes you think that I'll let you shoot him before I do?' Marla smiled, lifted the Baretta up in much the same faux-Bond pose that Shane had performed earlier.
'I'd prefer you as Lara Croft, if you're asking my opinion,' Shane said.
'Got a thing for that pixelated look, have you?' Marla joked.
'I know I'm not as young as I used to be,' Terry said, 'but who the hell is Lara Croft?'
'She's a very nice . . . You know what?' Shane said. 'It doesn't matter. I'll find a picture somewhere and you can judge for yourself.'
River and Saul walked solemnly along the platform; River was holding her machete, Saul was holding River.
/>
'They gone?' River asked, her tone sharp.
'Yeah,' Shane said. 'You can sheath your blade for awhile. We're leaving on a jet-plane . . .' He sang the last bit, tunelessly, and when he was finished he had everybody's eyes upon him. 'What? That was a classic.'
'It's not a plane,' River giggled. 'It's a train, stooopid!'
'Well, a train's as good as a plane right now,' Shane said. 'So let's get saddled up and ready. We leave in thirty minutes. Make sure you pick up everything we might need and toss it into the back car.'
'How many cars we draggin'?' Terry asked. 'The more we hook up, the slower we're gonna be moving.'
'I figure two cars,' Shane said. 'Since there are four attached, we just unhook the last two. You never know. Might come across some more survivors. You ever been stuck in a lift with twenty people? It ain't comfortable, I'll tell you that.'
Marla smiled thinly. 'We come across any more survivors,' she said, 'we're leaving them where they are.'
Shane didn't blame her for the harsh words. The last time they'd run across others hadn't panned out too well, had it?
They readied for the journey.
Terry shuffled towards the driver's seat, ready to buckle in for what was going to be an interesting ride.
*
When the locomotive didn't start on the first – or second – attempt, River booed from the car in which she and Saul had settled.
'Give her half a chance!' Terry's voice called back to the impatient urchin. 'She's older than you and your little boyfriend put together.'
River, in the semi-darkness of morning, rolled her eyes and smiled at Saul, who had wedged himself tightly into the steel tin's corner. 'He doesn't mean that,' she said. 'He's old, and probably senile.'
Saul nodded, relieved that he wasn't about to marry the blade-carrying young lady with a penchant for decapitating zombies in the vilest of manners. She was pretty, he thought, but you never should trust a girl who kills first, asks questions later. . .
The Dead Series (Book 3): Dead Line Page 15
