Road to Babylon (Book 8): Daybreak

by Sisavath, Sam

  “Goddammit, Martin,” Jack said. He looked away and pouted.

  Martin glanced over at Keo. “You sure you don’t want a piece of this?”

  “You have your priorities, and I have mine.” Keo picked up the pack from the counter and slipped it on. “Mine doesn’t involve going face to ugly face with a blue eyes, sorry.”

  “Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do.” He stuck out his hand, and Keo shook it. If there was any resentment in Martin’s face, Keo couldn’t find it. “Sorry I can’t give you a horse. We need everything we got.”

  What about Huston’s? Keo thought but didn’t say.

  He said instead, “I’ll make do. I always have.”

  Martin noted Keo’s holstered revolver. “You might need more than that little peashooter if you’re gonna be running around out there all night. Help yourself to what we have.”

  “You sure?”

  “Plenty to go around.” He nodded at the pool table where the slayers had piled their supplies. “You can give it back to me when we meet again.”

  “I appreciate that,” Keo said, and he meant it.

  “All right. Final check, boys,” Martin said to his men. “Any last questions before we go down there?”

  “Just one,” Felix said.

  “Go on.”

  “It’s not just waiting for us, is it?”

  “No. The basement’s empty, but there’s a secret entranceway in the back, hidden behind a shelf that leads into some kind of underground tunnel. We wouldn’t have seen it or even known to look for it if that thing hadn’t used it to take Huston.”

  “A tunnel? Are you kidding me?” Terminal said. “What kind of bar has a fucking tunnel in the basement?”

  “This place is pretty old,” Jack said. “I’ve read about bars using secret passageways to bring booze in and out during Prohibition. This place opened in 1930, which was when Prohibition was still in effect.”

  “You read too much, Jack.”

  “Never heard that before…”

  “You changed your mind, Terminal?” Martin asked.

  “Fuck no,” Terminal said. “If we gotta go into a dark tunnel, then we’ll go into a dark tunnel. Who wants to live forever, anyway?”

  Me, for one, Keo thought but kept quiet.

  “Good. Because that’s exactly what we’re gonna be doing,” Martin said.

  “Fucking A, man. Fucking A,” Terminal said, though he didn’t sound nearly as gung-ho as he had just a few seconds ago.

  “This is bullshit, Martin,” Jack said. “I’m going with you guys.”

  “You’re staying up here with McBroom and Merrifield,” Martin said.

  “Marty—”

  “That’s not a suggestion. It was an order.”

  The two brothers continued arguing, but Keo had walked over to the supply table. He bypassed the gear and food and sifted through the weapons.

  Shotguns, rifles, pistols, knives…

  He had the KA-BAR so didn’t need an additional blade. The Ruger would serve as a sidearm, but he picked up a Glock and put it behind his back anyway, because you could never have too many guns, especially on a night like this one.

  “You’re not going,” Martin was saying behind him. “And that’s final.”

  “Goddammit, Marty,” Jack said, close to whining now.

  Keo would have kept listening to their bickering if he didn’t spot something that drew his attention.

  A Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun. It wasn’t exactly an MP5SD, but…

  Beggars can’t be choosers.

  He picked it up. It’d taken a beating, and there were scratches along the sides, but he liked the collapsible stock and its short length. He’d never been a fan of long rifles, though he’d always made an exception for the MP5SDs and their slightly-longer barrel due to the built-in suppressor.

  “Remember not to accidentally shoot yourself in the foot while you’re running around out there taking care of numero uno,” a voice said behind him.

  Keo glanced back at Terminal, standing a little too close for comfort. The slayer was rubbing the handle of his sheathed machete. It was probably supposed to be threatening, but Keo found it comical, especially with Terminal’s bandaged face making him look like the victim of a botched plastic surgery operation.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Keo said.

  “I never took you for a coward.”

  “You haven’t known me long enough to take me for anything, pal.”

  Felix appeared behind Terminal. “Leave the man alone. He’s just doing what he has to. We all are.”

  “I’m giving him some good advice, Felix,” Terminal said. “Just ’cause you guys are from the same continent don’t mean you have to stand up for him.”

  “Pretty sure neither one of us are from any continent other than North America, Terminal.”

  “Lighten up, man. Keo knows I have nothing but good intentions.” He grinned at Keo, showing slightly yellow teeth. “Ain’t that right, Keo?”

  “Absolutely,” Keo said. “Nothing but good intentions, all right.”

  “See?” Terminal said. “Time to make the donuts.”

  The slayer winked at Keo before walking away to rejoin the others.

  Keo looked after him, wondering if he was going to find himself at the wrong end of Terminal’s machete again very soon. If he did, at least this time he’d have a submachine gun ready to defend himself with, so he liked his chances.

  “I’d tell you he’s harmless, but he’s not,” Felix said. “If you see him again out there, I’d watch your back.”

  “Thanks for the heads up,” Keo said.

  “Though I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You look like you can handle yourself.”

  “I’ve been known to get into a scrap or two.”

  “I bet.”

  “Which part of Taiwan is your family from?”

  Felix grinned. “How’d you know?”

  “You’re Chinese, but obviously not a Mainlander. Too American. And you don’t have the Hong Konger accent. So I settled on American-born Taiwanese ABC.”

  “You’re smarter than you look.”

  “Don’t let that fool you. I’m really not.”

  Felix chuckled. “Family’s from Kaohsiung City, but all I know is the plains of Tulsa, Oklahoma. That, and line dancing. Can’t get enough line dancing.”

  Felix was in his early thirties, with a goatee he’d probably been growing for a while, and a big, jagged scar across his forehead that looked like it’d been put there by something other than a knife. The slayer, like his comrades, wore thick and long-sleeve trench coats, but Keo thought he could just make out ugly red lines along the side of his neck. They might have been teeth marks from years ago that hadn’t vanished and never would.

  “Tulsa’s a long way from Kaohsiung City,” Keo said.

  “You been there?” Felix asked.

  “Did this thing for these people around Tainan City once or twice. Not a bad town. Good and cheap food. Spent enough time with some locals to recognize the accents.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Didn’t get the chance to see more of Taiwan, unfortunately. Maybe I’ll rectify that one day.”

  “Yeah, maybe one day,” Felix said.

  They exchanged a nod.

  “Good luck out there,” the slayer said.

  I’m not the one going into a dark tunnel after a blue-eyed ghoul.

  Keo said, “Yeah, you too, Felix. Don’t get dead.”

  “That’s the idea,” Felix said, before walking over to his friends.

  Keo turned around and picked up a couple of magazines for the MP5. He inserted one into the mag well and worked the slide and decided that he liked the sound it made.

  “So what’s the plan, boss?” Rogers was saying behind him.

  “Kill anything with glowing blue eyes,” Martin said.

  “Are we sure it’s the same one?” Felix asked.

  “Pretty damn sure. Anyone has a
ny other questions?”

  “I got first dibs,” Terminal said.

  “Not if I get him with Betsy first,” Rogers said.

  “Over my dead body.”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “Hardy har har, big man.”

  They sounded unafraid, but Keo knew better. He’d been around too many soldiers—not that slayers were really soldiers, but they had a lot of the same personalities—to be deceived. The joking was just a way of coping with the stress, their way of overcoming the fear of the unknown. In this case, a dark tunnel with a blue-eyed ghoul on the other side.

  Jesus Christ, this is such a bad idea.

  But it’s not my problem now.

  Keo slung the MP5 and walked over to a dejected Jack as the young man watched Martin and the other slayers heading into the back hallway.

  “I should be going with them,” Jack said quietly.

  Why the hell would you want to be doing a stupid thing like that? Keo thought as he watched the slayers disappear through the basement door one by one.

  “What are you gonna do now?” Jack asked, looking over at him.

  “I’m going home,” Keo said, and turned around to do just that.

  “Just like that?” Jack said from behind him.

  Keo stopped and looked back at him. “Kid, when you get to be as old as me, you’ll realize that sometimes you have to make sacrifices. Sometimes that means letting people down. Other times it means looking like an asshole.”

  “So that’s your excuse?”

  “Yeah, that’s my excuse.” Then, “I need a flashlight—”

  “Fuck off, Keo.”

  I deserve that, Keo said and turned to leave.

  On his way to the door, Keo looked over at McBroom and Merrifield, milling about a dartboard on the other side of the bar. Neither man had spoken up and were doing their best not to meet his gaze.

  “You guys want to chime in?” Keo asked them.

  McBroom, the older to the two, shrugged. “About what?”

  “About anything.”

  “It’s your life, man.”

  “You do what you gotta do,” Merrifield said.

  “All right, then,” Keo said, and stepped through the Deuces’ front door.

  Fifteen

  “No meandering. Get there, get what you need, and come home. Got it? If I have to go after you, I’m going to be really angry.”

  Only an idiot would want Lara to be angry with them. Keo had learned that lesson a long time ago. So had a lot of other people, in fact, and not all of them were still alive.

  Keo was thinking about that as he came out of the Deuces and walked past the horses tied up outside to one of the street signs. For a second or two (okay, maybe five seconds; possibly ten or more) Keo considered taking one of them. It would make his trip back to the ranch so much faster, not to mention safer. There was no telling what was waiting for him out there on the road. A day ago he would have thought that was just paranoia, but after the night he’d been having…

  Just one horse. They don’t need all of them.

  Besides, what were the chances Martin’s entire gang would return from their basement adventures with Huston, or with the same number they’d gone down there with? The odds were against them. They were good at their jobs, no doubt, but were they that good? Against a blue-eyed devil?

  Just one horse. That was all he needed.

  Dammit, I’ve gone too soft, he thought as he kept walking past the animals and turned south, in the same direction he’d been headed before the ghouls ambushed him.

  The ranch wasn’t very far now. Mirabelle would have gotten him home within half a day, and he could probably make the same distance in a day on foot. Okay, maybe a day and a half if he was feeling lazy, which he wasn’t.

  But he would get home, that was the important part. Not just that, but he’d bring back what he needed to. What Lara needed. This entire trip would have been for naught if Martin hadn’t found his pack.

  Thanks, Martin. Sorry I couldn’t be more help, buddy.

  The streets of Paxton were a lot safer now after the slayers had made mincemeat of the remaining ghouls. There were corpses on the streets and along the sidewalks, some of the bodies left where they had fallen while others were dragged over to put into piles. Unmoving forms of twisted limbs and shattered skulls and lifeless eyes greeted Keo. There was surprisingly little obvious blood on the ground, but maybe the darkness had something to do with that. The smell was bad enough that he took out the half-mask he carried in one of his cargo pants pockets and slipped it on.

  Better. Not perfect by any means, but noticeably better.

  The bodies would be there all night, but come morning they’d be gone. The sunlight’s purifying rays would take care of the tainted flesh. The blood that the slayers had spilled throughout town would also be gone, as if they were never here. All that would be left would be the deformed bones, but even those would be taken care of by the animals in the days, weeks, and months to come. Eventually Paxton would revert back to its abandoned state, just as innocuous as Keo had found it when he first rode through nine days ago.

  “All’s well that ends well,” he said quietly to the empty streets, small puffs of white clouds coming out of the half-mask’s fleece material.

  Dark and empty alleyways greeted him as he passed the first block and continued on, leaving the Deuces and the slayers behind. Paxton hadn’t looked that big when Keo first rode through it the first time, but that’d been with daylight at his back. Now, without much light except whatever the moon could provide, it looked twice as big.

  Keo put a reassuring hand on the butt of the holstered Ruger. He’d refilled all six chambers, so was feeling a little better. If he needed backup, there was the Glock behind his waist. Both weapons were loaded with silver-tipped rounds. And then there was the MP5 hanging by a strap off his right shoulder. He didn’t expect a fight, but he was ready if he ran into one.

  He glanced down at his watch.

  10:34 p.m.

  Just a shade over two hours since he’d run into Martin’s crew back at the Deuces and almost killed them and vice versa. The whole of Paxton was a bad memory Keo wanted to get rid of for good. The faster he could put it in the rearview mirror, the better he’d feel.

  Keo tightened the straps of the pack around his shoulders, grimacing a bit as the heavy material bit into his left shoulder and the recently-bandaged wound underneath his clothes. Thanks to Huston, he wasn’t bleeding anymore.

  …thanks to Huston.

  He stopped and glanced back up the road. He couldn’t see the bar anymore, but it was back there somewhere. It was too late to change his mind now. Martin and the others were already in the basement and, likely, inside the tunnel. Even if he ran back at full speed, he wouldn’t be able to catch up. Hell, he’d probably end up shot by mistake when he startled them from behind.

  No. It was better to keep going, so that was what he did. Decisions, whether rightly or wrongly, had been made. He still thought it was the right one, but maybe he was a little biased. Just a tad.

  The bag’s contents were the most important thing to him other than getting back to the ranch. One wasn’t going to mean very much without the other, so he had to achieve both. Lara was waiting, and Lara was priority number one. She’d always been.

  “No meandering,” she’d said.

  Lara’s words were still reverberating around in his head, urging him forward despite all his lingering doubts, when some kind of light flickered at the corner of his right eye. He might not have noticed it at all if the town wasn’t so pitch-black around him.

  Keo stopped again, his hand dipping for the Ruger, and turned toward a pair of buildings. A Wendy’s, with a two-story bed-and-breakfast called Edna’s B&B next to it. Keo focused on the B&B—or more specifically on its windows facing the street. They were all dark, with no signs of movement.

  He waited. He’d seen something. A light of some kind. He was sure of it.

/>   Five seconds…

  Or was he? Maybe he had just imagined it. It was so dark out here.

  Ten seconds…

  Had he imagined the whole thing? No. He swore he’d seen a light—

  There!

  It was a single flickering flame from a lighter, partially illuminating a figure standing behind one of the windows at the right side of the B&B. He couldn’t make out the face—it was too dark, and the dirty glass made details impossible—but Keo didn’t have any trouble picking up the hand waving wildly in the air to get his attention.

  Keo jumped up the sidewalk and toward the bed-and-breakfast’s front door. It was wide open, and Keo thought, Now where have I seen this before?

  He could see into the building, but not completely. There were just enough lights to highlight a large lobby with furniture inside. Keo was keeping one eye on the window with the figure as he moved cautiously forward. It was a good thing he did, because the figure seemed to glance over their shoulder before ducking down, disappearing completely from view and taking the lighter with them.

  Someone up there was in trouble.

  Unless this was another trick, one more piece of an ongoing game that Keo was unknowingly playing. Everything about tonight pointed to a mastermind moving him around like some remote control toy.

  Keo didn’t like that feeling. He didn’t like it at all.

  But could he really ignore the figure in the window? What if someone up there really did need his help? Someone like Carter…

  …or Huston…

  Two people he’d let down tonight. One was dead for sure, and the other was either already dead or would be soon. Keo hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to stop their fates.

  Goddammit. This conscience bullshit is going to be the death of me, Keo thought as he took a moment to orient himself.

  He was almost a block and a half from the Deuces. The sidewalks around him were mostly clear, with only a couple of random ghoul bodies to remind him Paxton wasn’t the peaceful town he’d thought it was.

  Oh, just get this over with, will you?

  Keo eased his way into the B&B’s lobby, which looked more like a large living room, complete with dust-covered furniture and carpeted flooring. There was a dining room to one side, a kitchen near the back, and a reception area featuring a big Edna’s B&B logo in ghastly pink. Pastel-colored walls looked as gaudy partially obscured by shadows as they likely did in the daylight. And there, a set of stairs leading upward to the second floor, a helpful sign pointing the way: rooms upstairs.