The Horns of Avalon (Purge of Babylon, Book 8)

by Sam Sisavath

  “What?”

  “Astute.”

  “It means you’re right. Whether you live or die depends entirely on what you say now, in here.”

  “Ah,” Hart said.

  “Were you going to kill us?”

  “No.”

  “Then how were you going to take the boat from us?”

  “Hopefully without bloodshed.”

  “You were pretty heavily armed, if that was your hope.”

  “The plan was to sneak onboard and take it over with minimal collateral damage. We needed the boat. The weapons were insurance.”

  “I could have killed you and your men out there.”

  “I know…”

  “If one of your guys had opened fire…”

  “I know,” Hart said again. “Trust me, I know.”

  They let a few seconds of silence fall between them.

  Five seconds became ten, then fifteen…

  He wasn’t afraid of her, she could tell that much. Mostly he seemed completely resigned to his fate. She told herself not to believe him, that he wasn’t telling her the complete truth, but for whatever reason, she chose to ignore it.

  “Where’s your base of operations?” she asked. “I know you didn’t come all the way from shore. We’re too far for that.”

  “We didn’t.”

  “So where did you come from?”

  “I can’t tell you. At least, not yet.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve said that.”

  “Do you have a pen?”

  “What would I need a pen for?”

  “I’m going to give you a radio frequency,” Hart said. “The guy you’ll want to talk to will be on the other end.”

  “Is he in charge?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would I want to talk to him?”

  “How long have you been on this boat?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  He shrugged slowly, as if just doing that simple move was tiring. “What I’m trying to get at is you’re probably running low on fuel and supplies. Am I right?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Of course I am,” he said. “The collaborators have all the marinas and fueling stations along the coastline on lockdown. The ones they haven’t already destroyed, anyway.”

  “You’re not a collaborator…”

  “And neither are you, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. I’d be fish food at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico. Which is why I think we can make a deal.”

  She stared at him but remained silent.

  “Call my CO,” Hart said. When she still didn’t say anything, he leaned slightly forward, his eyes almost pleading with her now. “Please. I promise you, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

  8

  Gaby

  She hated the sinking feeling that always came with waiting for night. There was a thickness in the air, as if the molecules that made up the world suddenly doubled in density. Even breathing seemed to get a little harder, and it didn’t help that the weather got immeasurably chillier as the sun disappeared. Darkness, unencumbered by artificial lights that once dotted the landscape, fell over everything.

  They left the living room windows the way they had found them—dirty linen curtains over the glass panes on the inside, without any extra barriers that hadn’t been there when they found the house. Danny had locked the doors because a locked door wasn’t obvious like windows that were barricaded with furniture. The ghouls were dead, not stupid, as Will always used to say, and they knew when an environment had been altered. It was instinctive, a level of base intelligence that remained long after their humanity had been stripped away.

  Eventually they retreated into the main bedroom in the back. There was a single window in the room, and thankfully it had blinders that were already closed earlier today. That made perfect sense. The previous owners wouldn’t have wanted their neighbors looking in at their bedroom. She and Danny upended the king-size bed and leaned the box spring and mattress against the window, then wedged them into place with a heavy wood armoire.

  “Should hold,” Danny said.

  “You think?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Probably.”

  “That’s not very reassuring, Danny.”

  “Oh well.”

  They moved Nate into the master bedroom and placed a mattress from a smaller room on the floor for him to lie on. He hadn’t woken up from the morphine, and a part of her was glad he wasn’t going to be awake for this. Not just because of the pain, but in case things went from bad to worse. She hated the thought but the possibility was there, especially if the collaborators really had been tracking them since Starch.

  What makes us so special? Hopefully we won’t have to find out.

  They had brought all their supplies and weapons into the house, and while Danny called the Trident on the ham radio in the living room, she sat with Nate in the bedroom and watched him sleep. He was covered up with a throw blanket, but every now and then he would still shiver. She knew it wasn’t from the slowly building cold outside the house’s flimsy walls or from his wounds.

  Nate suffered from nightmares where he would relive that night at the pawnshop in Louisiana and the days and nights afterward when she thought he was dead. It had taken a long time before he would confess it to her. She would have held him now, the way she did all those other nights, if not for his wound. She had to be satisfied with stroking his hair, and when that didn’t seemed to help, leaned close to him and whispered, “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re with me now. You’re safe, Nate. You’re safe. I’ll watch over you. I always will…”

  His trembling subsided, whether because of her whispers or because the nightmares had run their course she didn’t know, and he slowly settled into a peaceful slumber. She kissed his forehead and ran her fingers along the sides of his neck, feeling the very distinct indentations that covered most of his body underneath his clothes. They were teeth marks, a daily reminder of what he had been through and why he was never going to outrun his nightmares.

  It was dark enough inside the room that her wristwatch’s hands were glowing when Danny came back inside. He walked to the corner and put the radio away.

  “How’s everyone?” she asked.

  “Still waiting to pick us up,” Danny said. “Other than that, nothing they couldn’t handle.”

  “Problems?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. They’ll know for sure tonight.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “Eh, they’ll deal with it like they always do.” He sat down and rummaged through his pack. “They’re in good hands. I’m more worried about us tonight.”

  “Did you tell them about Nate? Or why we’re not already waiting on a beach for them?”

  He shook his head. “I just told them we got delayed. Accident on the road, and everyone’s slowing down to take a look. You know, the usual Texas traffic. Besides, nothing good’s going to come from them knowing what kind of creek we’re up without a paddle.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “Hey, we’ve been in worse situations. Compared to that whole Larkin snafu, this one’s a peach. At least no one’s trying to strafe us from above.”

  “Good point.”

  “That’s why they call me Good Point Danny.” He took a drink from a bottle before continuing. “The smart move would have been to adios outta here before dark. Take our chances on the road.”

  “You know we couldn’t do that. Not with Nate’s situation.”

  “Nate schmate.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  He shrugged. “You might be overestimating my fondness for him.”

  She didn’t believe him for a second. Danny would never leave her or Nate, just as she would never leave the two of them. And Nate…well, she knew Nate would never leave her. He had proven that twice now.

  “Maybe it’s not too late to find a better hiding spot,” she said.


  “I’m pretty sure this is as good as it’s gonna get. At least, in the time we have left.”

  “That’s disheartening.”

  “Just have to get through the night; then we’re home free.” He stood up and walked back over to the door. “If you hear something that sounds like bad news, you know what to do.”

  “Take Nate into the bathroom.”

  “I was gonna say run outside and see if I might need some assistance, but sure, do the other thing, too.”

  Danny stepped outside and closed the door after him.

  She looked down at Nate again and brushed specks of dirt out of his hair. Maybe it was the chaos of the day combined with the stress of almost losing him (again), but somewhere between six and seven o’clock she closed her eyes and went to sleep without realizing it.

  * * *

  Tap-tap.

  Her hand was reaching for the M4 leaning against the wall next to her before she had fully opened both eyes. Nate was snoring lightly, the rise and fall of his chest underneath the flimsy throw blanket drawing her attention temporarily.

  Tap-tap.

  It came from above and slightly in front of her, which made sense because there was nothing behind her except the back of the house. She pulled her eyes away from Nate and turned them upward, trying to pinpoint the exact location—

  Tap-tap.

  More than one. Two at least, but likely more because where there were two there was usually a horde right behind them. They were moving back and forth on the roof of the residence directly above her. There was no pattern to their movements that she could detect, almost as if they were testing their footing, which didn’t make any sense. The creatures were almost reckless when it came to their lives.

  She sat perfectly still on the mattress next to Nate, acutely aware of everything about her surroundings, including her own slightly labored breathing, which provided a stark contrast against Nate’s slow and steady heartbeat. She located the second rifle—Nate’s—nearby and reached for it, then laid it on the floor next to her. The fact that both weapons were loaded with regular bullets made her question why she was even arming herself.

  Danny. Where was Danny?

  The bedroom door was still closed and she craned her head slightly forward, hoping to hear something from the hallway on the other side, but there was nothing.

  Did Danny know they were out (up) there? If she could hear it—if they had been loud enough to wake her up—it would have been impossible for Danny to miss them. Unless he had gone to sleep, too. Was that possible? Could Danny be asleep right this minute, oblivious to what was happening above them?

  She started to get up when the door clicked open. She lifted the rifle as a silhouetted figure slipped inside and slid the door closed before leaning against it.

  Danny.

  The whites of his eyes searched her out in the darkness, but if he said anything, she didn’t hear it. Gaby finished getting up and tiptoed across the room toward him. Halfway to Danny, she glanced back at the window on the other side of the room. The armoire remained pressed against the bed, which was long enough that it covered up the entire window frame and didn’t allow any moonlight to penetrate inside.

  She pushed up against the wall next to Danny, whose head was slightly tilted as he listened to the persistent tap-tap above them.

  “Are they inside?” she whispered.

  He shook his head and whispered back, “Not yet.”

  “How many?”

  “Don’t know. Dollars to donuts it’s a buttload.”

  She looked back across the room again and could just make out Nate in the pitch darkness. With just his head sticking out from underneath the blanket, he looked like a bodiless head floating in the shadows. They had purposefully put the mattress with him in the corner closer to the bathroom to make moving him in there easier if they had to.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  She glanced up, drawn irresistibly by the noise. If there had only been a few before, they had just gotten some company. Five? Ten? Not that it mattered—

  Tap-tap-tap!

  “Danny,” she whispered.

  “The bathroom,” he whispered back.

  “And then?”

  “We’ll cross that bathtub when we get to it.”

  They hurried across the room to Nate. Gaby slung her rifle, then picked up the spare M4 and added it to her own. She grabbed their backpacks as Danny bent at the knees before standing back up with Nate cradled in his arms. She half-expected Nate to wake up as soon as Danny lifted him, but he remained limp as the ex-Ranger turned and, with some effort, carried him into the bathroom. Gaby hurried over to open the door for him.

  “Much appreciated,” Danny said, grunting with the strain of Nate’s weight.

  Danny went into the bathroom first, then gingerly laid Nate down on the small single-size mattress they had inserted into the bathtub earlier. She thought Nate might have groaned as Danny lowered him, or it might have actually been Danny sighing with relief.

  “Guy weighs a ton,” Danny said. “Time to put him on a diet.”

  “I’ll get on it as soon as we get back to the Trident.” She looked back at the bedroom. “What—”

  A loud crash! tore through the house before she could finish. It came from their left and was soon followed by the unmistakable sound of glass breaking. On cue, the tap-tap noises above them ceased entirely.

  “Danny,” she said breathlessly.

  “I know, I know,” Danny said. “Maybe we should have barricaded those windows after all, huh?”

  “Gee, ya think?”

  He grinned back at her then nodded at Nate. “Keep an eye on him.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Be right back.”

  “Danny,” she said, but he had already vanished through the door, the darkness on the other side swallowing him up in a matter of seconds.

  She unslung the rifles, laying one across the sink, then spent a few seconds pushing their backpacks and supplies into the crevices around the toilet so she didn’t accidentally trip on them if she had to scramble around the tight confines. It was dark enough inside that she couldn’t even see her own reflection in the mirror above the sink. She only knew where to find Nate because the white porcelain tub stood out—

  Another loud crash! and Gaby thought, There goes the bedroom door…

  She spun toward the open bathroom door at the same time the first gunshot rang out. It was followed by two more shots, both single shots but fired in such quick succession it was easy to mistake them for burst-fire. They seemed to have come from right outside the bathroom, except she didn’t see the telltale staccato flash of gunfire, so it couldn’t have been that—

  The single shots became a volley as the shooter switched from semi-auto to full-auto, the pop-pop-pop blowing across the house and she thought, At least Nate won’t be awake to see this.

  She ran back into the master bedroom and immediately made out a solitary figure (Danny) crouched in front of her and firing at where the door had once been. Something had shattered the slab of wood into pieces that were now spread across the room—something either very heavy or very, very strong.

  Danny snapped a quick look behind him as he stood up, his hands busy with loading a fresh magazine. “Get back inside! We’re fu—”

  She was pretty sure she knew what he was going to say but didn’t get the chance to, because one second he was standing up in front of her trying desperately to feed a magazine into his rifle, and the next he was on the floor and there was a ghoul perched on top of him.

  Jesus!

  The thing had moved so fast she hadn’t even seen it coming through what remained of the door. It was just suddenly there and on top of Danny, pinning him to the floor with one hand while ripping the rifle out of his grip and tossing it across the room as if he were a petulant child in need of discipline.

  Then it turned its head, and deep, pulsating blue eyes bored into her soul.

  “Run!” Danny s
houted despite the creature’s hand wrapped tightly around his throat.

  Run? Run where, Danny? Where can I run that it can’t find me?

  Of course, she didn’t say any of those things out loud. She was too busy backpedaling, moving as fast as she could (though it didn’t seem to be nearly fast enough) toward the bathroom door behind her. She lifted her M4 (Go for the head! Shoot it in the head!), but before she could pull the trigger, something moved in the corner of her left eye.

  She finished the pull anyway, but her aim was off and the round sailed past the creature’s head and disappeared into the shadows. She had missed! How the hell had she missed from such a short distance? Or had the thing simply moved its head to avoid her shot? Could it move that fast?

  Yes. Yes, it could. She remembered that time at the farmhouse in Louisiana and how fast that blue-eyed monstrosity had been—

  It was just a blur, but even before her eyes could report its presence to her brain, it had already reached her and broadsided her. It couldn’t have been flesh and blood because the blow was too strong, like being hit with a jackhammer, and it sent her flying across the room and into the armoire. She was still trying to comprehend why she was no longer holding her rifle (or standing) as she was falling and finally slammed into the floor.

  She couldn’t find the wherewithal to stick her hands out in time to stop her fall, and the face-first blow with the floor sent pain rippling through her entire body. Which was just as well, because most of her bones were still rattling from being slammed into by that semi-trailer (Anyone get the license plate of that thing?), then not even a second later crashing into the armoire.

  Which part of her wasn’t screaming at the moment?

  She expected to hear gunshots, something to indicate Danny had gotten the upper hand on the monster that had knocked him to the floor, but there wasn’t any. Which were more bad signs. With Danny, silence was never a good thing.

  Gaby managed to flatten her palms against the floor and pushed herself up, if just slightly, even as her face throbbed. She turned her head and saw two figures entering the room, stepping over splintered wood sprinkled across the floor. But they moved like men, not ghouls, and were wearing gas masks and carrying rifles.