The man stopped his charge suddenly, and Keo saw confusion flicker across the reddened face. For a heartbeat or two, Keo thought he’d gotten through to the slayer.
He was wrong.
The momentary distraction was just that, and before Keo could say anything else to calm the situation down, Rondo was moving, then running. His boots pounded against the floor, his face contorting even further into something that didn’t even look human. But he was still very much human. Wasn’t he?
As Rondo got closer, Keo glimpsed blood—dark black and some red—on the front of Rondo’s clothes. They looked pretty fresh, too.
“Rondo!” Keo got out just before the big man was nearly on top of him, both arms cocking back the sledgehammer for a sideways blow.
Don’t let it hit you. Don’t let it hit you!
The hammer was already capable of tremendous damage and that wasn’t even counting the addition of spikes. Not that Keo stood still and found out just how much of a mess Rondo could do to the human body with his weapon of choice.
He ducked, then heard as well as felt the whoosh! as the sledgehammer sliced through the air above his head. Instead of springing right back up to his feet, Keo dived to the side to get as far away from the slayer as possible.
Somehow, Rondo proved to be more fluid now than he’d been when they first met inside the basement, and quickly righted himself. The sledgehammer was already moving back around for a second stab at Keo’s head.
Keo scrambled away as the big man destroyed one of the few tables still standing in the Deuces with a swing. Slivers of hard wood bounced off walls and floors, and more than a few spikes pelted Keo in the back of the legs as he dashed away from the madman.
Because that was Rondo right now. Mad. Keo had no delusions he was going to be able to reason with the slayer. At least not in his current state. But if he could calm him down, get him talking…
You’ll need to stay alive to do that, pal!
Keo stumbled over a large glass pitcher on the floor and almost lost his footing but got it back just before he ran into a wall. He was glad he didn’t have the heavy tactical pack on, because the extra weight would have cut into his agility and balance. He stuck out both hands to prevent the collision. It worked, but it also sent a fresh jolt of pain through his left shoulder.
He pushed off the wall half a second later, the part of his mind keeping count of how many seconds he had left before Rondo caught up to him shouting, Move move move! Move faster! Faster!
He didn’t look back to see if Rondo was back there. He knew Rondo was back there. All he had to do was listen to the heavy and almost animalistic grunting exploding behind him.
Keo ran alongside the wall, making a beeline for the bar counter nearby.
It would have been easy to stop Rondo. All Keo had to do was shoot him with the MP5. Two rounds in the chest. Or, if that didn’t work, four rounds. And if that didn’t work, well, he had plenty of bullets until he got the desired outcome.
But he didn’t do that, because Rondo was clearly not himself. Something had happened when Keo wasn’t here, something that had involved Jack, McBroom, and Merrifield. For all Keo knew, those three men were dead and Rondo had woken up to find the place empty. Or maybe, given his current state, the slayer had been conscious when it happened but somehow managed to stay alive when the others didn’t. That was definitely fresh blood on his clothes.
So why was he attacking Keo so fervently? That was the part that didn’t make any sense. Keo looked nothing like a ghoul. So why—
Then it occurred to him:
He doesn’t know me! The last time he saw me was in the basement and we were trying to kill each other!
Keo put even more distance between him and the slayer. He needed time to get the big man to see reason. The logical part of him didn’t blame Rondo for trying to kill him. After all, he did stab the guy in the back with a KA-BAR. That was liable to put a crimp in any potential friendship the two of them might have developed. So Keo thought he owed the big man the benefit of the doubt as long as it didn’t kill him trying to do so.
He had gotten behind the bar when Rondo finally caught up to him, but instead of following Keo directly, the slayer attempted to get at him over the counter.
Smash! as the sledgehammer pulverized a section of the heavy countertop and splintered it, sending half of the glasses that were underneath the bar to the floor in showers of glass. The countertop itself stayed intact somehow.
But for how long?
“Rondo!” Keo shouted, trying to get through whatever blood haze the slayer was under. “I’m not your enemy! Stop it!”
“Kill you!” Rondo shouted. “Kill you good!”
Rondo started moving along the length of the bar, and Keo knew he was trying to get around it. He let Rondo do just that, but was mentally preparing himself to hop over the counter at the same time. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he thought he could pull it off. Or he hoped he could, anyway.
“What happened to Jack?” Keo said. “Where’s McBroom and Merrifield? Rondo! What happened to Jack?”
Rondo slowed down until he’d stopped completely. And again, that look of confusion flashed across his face, momentarily overcoming the rage. “What did you say?”
“Jack!” Keo said. “What happened to Jack?”
Jack’s name had clearly struck a chord with Rondo, and Keo thought, Why the hell didn’t I try that first?
“Jack?” Rondo said. That perplexed look on his face had deepened, and Keo knew he was on the right track.
“Yes, Jack,” Keo said. “What hap—”
Bang! as a gunshot rang out, and the slayer’s body jerked.
No, no! I was so close!
Rondo had been shot, but he didn’t go down. Instead, the slayer slowly turned until he was facing the door. Keo had to lean around Rondo to see who the big man was looking at.
Jackson, standing just inside the Deuces, the Glock in her hands. She had shot Rondo. Keo could see the bullet hole in Rondo’s trench coat as impossibly small trails of blood dripped out of it. Was Rondo even hurt? Or was he just annoyed? Keo had to remember he’d put half of his KA-BAR into the slayer and the man was still standing.
“Jackson, don’t!” Keo shouted. “Don’t shoot!”
But it was too late, because whatever calmness Keo had seen on Rondo’s face with the mention of Jack’s name was gone. Keo didn’t actually need to see Rondo’s face to know that, because the big man let out a massive roar and charged at Jackson, his sledgehammer cocking above his head.
“Don’t shoot, Jackson! Don’t shoot!” Keo shouted.
Jackson may or may not have heard him, but he couldn’t blame her for only concentrating on the massive human being with the spiked sledgehammer running full speed at her.
She fired again.
Then again.
And again.
It took four shots—including one that punched through the slayer’s forehead and out the back, sending a shower of brains to the floor—before Rondo dropped the sledgehammer and simply fell.
Daebak, Keo thought as he leaned back against the battered counter and let out a tired, regretful sigh.
Eighteen
“I had no choice.”
“I know.”
“I thought he was going to kill you.”
“I know, Jackson.”
“I didn’t have a choice. Right?”
Keo glanced up at her. “I’m probably alive because of you.”
That may or may not have been true, but Keo had said it as convincingly as possible. Jackson nodded back, but he couldn’t be sure if she completely bought it.
He looked back at Rondo’s body, sprawled on the floor. Blood pooled underneath his large frame, though most of it was being soaked up by the fabric of his thick trench coat. The rounds in his chest hadn’t stopped him, but the one that struck his face had. Keo wasn’t sure if Jackson was aiming for the head, but the results were the same nonetheless.
“
God, I think I’m going to be sick,” Jackson said. She took a couple of steps back and bumped into an overturned table.
“Sit down, Jackson.”
“I’m all right.”
“Sit down, before you throw up on me a second time.”
She picked up one of the fallen chairs and sat down on it. The Glock was still in her hand, and she rested it in her lap instead of putting it away. Keo didn’t ask, but he had the feeling this was the first time she’d ever killed another human being. He’d seen that look before: The shock and realization that they’d taken another life. The first time always left a mark. He had no doubts Jackson had killed plenty of ghouls, but you could almost dismiss that as putting them down—a mercy killing—whereas it was harder to justify ending another person’s life.
Keo turned Rondo’s head slightly to the side, just enough to confirm the bullet hole above the bridge of his nose. There were no fresh bite marks on Rondo’s neck or anywhere else on the exposed parts of his body, so he hadn’t been bitten. That didn’t explain the blood on his clothes, though. Not all of them had come from Jackson’s bullets.
“What now?” Jackson asked. “What are we going to do now?”
Keo stood up. “I don’t know.”
“We should leave. We should just get the hell out of Paxton now, Keo. Now.”
He didn’t answer her for a moment, and instead looked toward the back hallway. Rondo had come out of there, which was ironic because the first time they’d met, the slayer was headed inside. What was he doing in there? Maybe he’d woken up and found himself alone, saw the same things Keo did—signs of a fight—and went looking for his friends. Maybe he was doing exactly just that when Keo came in and interrupted his search.
“Keo?” Jackson said. “We should go, right?” Then, when he didn’t answer her fast enough (which was about a second and a half of silence): “Can we go? Now? Please?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Let’s get out of here.”
Jackson stood up and put the Glock away. She looked down at Rondo’s body. “What about him?”
“I don’t think we can do anything for him.”
“No, I mean, do we just…leave him like that?”
Keo wasn’t sure what she was asking, and it must have shown on his face.
“Paxton might not be completely empty,” Jackson said. “If they find him in here, like this…”
Ah, now he understood.
Keo shook his head. “He’s dead. I don’t think he’ll care what happens to his corpse. If we leave now, we can reach the ranch before daybreak.”
“No meandering. Get there, get what you need, and come home. Got it?”
I’m definitely not meandering, Lara.
At least, he wasn’t anymore. Maybe he had been the last couple of hours, but Keo decided he wasn’t going to let her know that. Unless, of course, it accidentally slipped out. Secrets tended to do that when he was around her.
Jackson was more than happy to climb back onto Martin’s mare and let Keo guide them out of Paxton. They had taken some bullets and supplies—emergency kits and MREs, along with canteens of water—and tossed the saddles over the horse. There was a heavy duffel bag that Keo didn’t open the first time, with blocks of C4 inside, along with a detonator and cord. Keo had no idea what the slayers would need something like that for, but he certainly didn’t need them.
They took only what they needed. Too much, and it would just slow them down. Besides, his goal wasn’t to last a week out here; it was to get back to the ranch as soon as possible, and he could achieve that by morning if he didn’t “meander” anymore along the way.
No meandering. Definitely no more meandering.
Jackson didn’t say a word as they rode at a not-fast-but-not-slow-either pace toward the south end of town. The only sounds he could hear were the clop-clop-clop of the horse’s shod feet on the hard concrete floor. Despite the lack of activity around them, Keo couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched. It was an unsettling sensation, but after everything that had happened…
It can’t be this easy.
Can it?
Why not? If anyone was due for “easy,” it was him, especially after the long day he’d had. It felt even longer because he was so, so close to home. Paxton had become truly a pain in the ass, and Keo thought about coming back here later and razing the place to the ground.
That’ll teach this fucking town to mess with me.
Dae-fucking-bak.
The cold wind slapped against his face, and he was glad he had a jacket on, even if it continued to be a tad too snug around the waist. Apparently, the previous owner was a thinner fellow. It was the first time Keo had actually thought about that. He wondered if the warm jacket, like the Ruger at his hip, belonged to the same person.
“We called him Billy the Kid,” Huston had said. “Because he carried that. You know, like the notorious Western outlaw?”
Huston. Shit. He’d forgotten all about her. Was she even still alive? Had Martin managed to find her? What happened to Jack and the others? Did Rondo have to die?
Goddammit, stop it. Put Paxton behind you. Go home.
Just go home!
The horse was a powerful Morgan and carried him and Jackson easily. Keo thought he should probably give the animal a name but decided against it. Better to let Bunker have that honor, since Keo was going to hand it over to the rancher anyway. It was the least he could do after getting Mirabelle killed. Keo planned on skipping all the gory details about the Appaloosa’s demise, if just for his own health.
There was more than enough moonlight to see the road ahead, along with the end of the city limits. It was twenty-something past midnight, the last time he checked. Keo didn’t bother getting a more specific time; twenty minutes or an hour didn’t matter anymore. Morning was coming, and by the time it did, he’d be back at the ranch.
Mission accomplished.
Even if it did, well, take more time than he’d anticipated.
Better late than never. Right, Lara?
The buildings around him were getting smaller and less cluttered as they left the town center behind. Apartments and multiple-story structures gave way to strip centers and the odd business. Paxton had a suburban area, but it was on the western edge; Keo had glimpsed the white picket fences and unmowed lawns as he rode through nine days ago in the daylight, but it was all hidden underneath the blanket of darkness tonight.
He was thinking about how dark it was out here when Keo shivered slightly. Was it just him, or had the temperature suddenly dropped a few more degrees? Maybe even the mare felt it, because it had picked up speed without prompting from Keo.
Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he glimpsed black shadows flitting across a narrow alleyway on his right side.
Dammit.
He guessed it was too much to hope he’d make it out of Paxton without having to kill something first. That was the problem with being hopeful; you always invariably end up disappointed.
Captain Optimism I’m not.
He had picked it up out of the corner of his eyes but didn’t turn his head to get a better look. It took everything he had to keep facing forward.
The edge of town. So close now.
Beyond that was the road.
And farther down was the ranch.
Close now. Very close. All he had to do was keep going.
Just keep going.
Don’t look! he told himself as silhouetted figures leaped across rooftops on his left side.
He didn’t look. He kept his eyes forward.
Eyes on the prize, pal! Eyes on the prize!
The mare had picked up even more speed.
It knows. Of course it knows.
I’m bringing you a really smart horse here, Bunker! Hope you appreciate it!
But, like Keo, the horse didn’t slow down or turn to look. It just kept going, knowing that it had to get out of Paxton.
“Keo…” Jackson
whispered behind him.
“I know,” Keo said. “I know.”
“What are we gonna do?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“We’re almost there.”
“What if—”
“We’re almost there,” he said again, before she could finish.
Jackson either sensed his urgency or was too scared to say anything else, because she kept quiet. Her arms spoke volumes by tightening further around his waist. If she kept that up, Keo wasn’t sure he was going to be able to breathe. It was already a bit hard now.
Another strip mall flashed by, forcing the shadows to his left to jump down onto the lower rooftops to keep up with their pace. The ones on his right were now moving along the sidewalks. They remained in the darkness, seemingly content to keep parallel to him; to keep him within striking distance.
They shouldn’t be doing that. They should be attacking right now. So why aren’t they?
Then: Because it is controlling them. It is telling them what to do.
Did that mean Martin and his group had failed? And if so, what about Huston’s fate? Was she dead? Were all of them dead?
But more importantly, if the slayers were gone, then it was still out there.
A slight shiver raced up and down his spine.
“Jackson,” Keo said.
“Yes?” Jackson said. He heard the fear in her voice even through the wind blasting in his ears.
“Whatever happens, stay on the horse.”
“What?”
“Head southwest, just like I told you, until you reach the ranch. And whatever you do, don’t lose the pack. Do you understand?”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Just in case.”
“Just in case of what?”
“Just in case of anything!”
“Oh God.”
Yeah, that sounds about right.
He wasn’t sure if she understood or not, because Keo wasn’t sure he did. He just knew he couldn’t lose the pack, not this close to the ranch. Lara needed it. All of this would be for nothing if she didn’t get what was inside it.
Road to Babylon (Book 8): Daybreak Page 17
