No, this wasn’t some elaborate trick. It had to be real.
Probably.
She wished she had a weapon, something that could break bone—or at least puncture skin. She had her hands, but it wasn’t nearly as easy to incapacitate someone with your fists as the movies made it out to be. She had learned that the hard way during sparring sessions with Will and Danny. Regardless of what kind of an advantage she had over a man, when it came to hand-to-hand fighting, she was still shorter, smaller, and weaker than her opponent. Girl power be damned, she would rather have a weapon.
Gaby glanced down at her watch: 7:36 a.m.
More than twenty minutes since the sun rose over the tree lines (“first light”) and bathed the town in a welcoming orange glow. To look at it, you wouldn’t know L15 was a town built on lies and desperation—
Voices, coming from the hallway outside.
About time.
Gaby slid closer to the door, leaving just a foot of space between her and the hinges, the doorknob on the other side. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with socks but no shoes. Josh hadn’t responded to her requests for shoes. Just another way to control her, to keep her at his mercy. He was good at that these days.
“Already?” a male voice said. Mac.
“I gotta go do something after this,” a soft female voice answered. Milly. There was a hint of anxiousness. Gaby hoped Mac didn’t notice.
“Like what?” Mac said.
“What do you care?” Milly countered.
“Don’t be a smartass.”
“I’m just saying, if I don’t give her her breakfast now, I won’t be around for another couple of hours. Peter’s got me busy today.”
“Okay, whatever,” Mac said. “Hurry up.”
The familiar sound of the deadbolt sliding, then the doorknob turning. A second later the door opened, followed by something hard and plastic clattering against the floor. She recognized the sound. It was one of the food trays.
“What—” she heard Mac start to say a split-second before Milly backpedaled through the open door, fumbling with a handgun in her small hands.
Oh, hell, this is the plan?
Mac was moving quickly through the door after Milly, reaching one hand out toward her. “Give that back to me, kid. What are you doing? Are you crazy? Give that back to me!”
He was so concerned with Milly—no, about his gun in her hands—that he didn’t do his usual due diligence. He didn’t look around to make sure she wasn’t lying in wait for him.
Now now now!
Gaby pushed herself off the wall and had gotten one step toward Mac—the sound of her bare feet pulling Mac’s eye away from Milly and over to her—but neither one of them managed to do anything before a fourth body slammed into Mac from behind. Arms snaked around Mac’s waist as the new figure’s head buried itself into the small of the guard’s back. The whole thing was so awkwardly executed that Gaby actually found herself staring in astonishment.
Mac let out a loud surprised grunt as he was thrown forward by the surprise attack. He slammed into the wooden footboard of the bed with his stomach and bent over awkwardly at the waist, the AK-47 slung over his shoulder swinging wildly around him. He attempted to right himself when the other man hit him in the back of the head with a brown maple wood rolling pin, swinging the kitchen object like some kind of hammer, and thwack!
Another burst of pained sounds sprung from Mac’s mouth as he slumped forward again, his body draping over the bed’s footboard. The attacker staggered back, gasping for breath, while Milly stood nearby holding the handgun, looking impossibly frightened.
Gaby took a step forward and the attacker whirled on her, rolling pin rising to strike. Gaby ignored him and made a beeline for Mac. She grabbed the AK-47 and pulled it free. A small pool of blood had clumped at the back of Mac’s head, and he didn’t fight her as she took his rifle away.
The man and Milly were looking at her, their labored breathing filling the room as if they had just run a marathon. The man was in his mid-thirties and tall. He wore slacks and a T-shirt, but what got her attention was the Garfield apron around his waist. He opened his mouth as if to say something but ended up just sucking in more air instead.
Gaby held out her hand to Milly and the girl anxiously gave up the handgun. It was an automatic, almost entirely stainless steel except for a strip of laminated wood along the grip. Smith & Wesson SW1911TA was engraved along the side. It looked a hell of a lot more expensive than the Glocks she had been trained on, and she wondered where Mac had gotten something that fancy.
“What now?” the man said, his eyes focused on her. She couldn’t tell if he looked disappointed or confused. “Jesus, I thought you’d be older.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said.
“I didn’t mean—I just thought—”
“That I’d be older. I got it. Close the door,” she said to Milly.
The girl stepped over the plastic tray and the spilled food and closed the door. Gaby grabbed Mac and hauled him off the footboard, dropping him to the floor on his back. Dull, pained eyes stared up at her, but if she was afraid Mac would fight, she didn’t have to be. It was entirely possible he wasn’t even seeing her at the moment. He was alive, if barely, because she could still hear him breathing.
“What are you doing?” the man asked behind her.
She didn’t bother to answer him. Instead, she unclasped Mac’s gun belt and pulled it off, along with the holster and ammo pouches. She cinched it around her waist and instantly felt better with the weight. These last few days, walking around without weapons was like being naked in front of the world. The Smith & Wesson slid easily into the hip holster, and though it didn’t have silver bullets in the magazine, it was better than no ammo.
“How many of you are there?” she asked, busying herself with Mac’s boots. He was a few inches taller than her and she expected his boots to be a little larger as a result, but she was surprised when they fit her as well as they did.
“Just us,” the man said. “What are you doing now?”
“Stop asking stupid questions,” she snapped. “You know what I’m doing.”
Gaby pulled off Mac’s camouflage jacket and slipped it on. It was slightly big around the shoulders, but luckily Mac wasn’t fat. She took off his watch and put it on her wrist.
“Maybe I should take the rifle,” the man said.
“You know how to use one of these?” she asked.
“How hard could it be?”
“Right. I’ll keep the rifle.”
She got up and walked over to the door and opened it just a crack. She looked out at the empty second-floor hallway with Milly standing next to her, eyeing her curiously.
“Where is everyone?” she asked the girl.
“At work,” Milly said.
“Work?”
“Everyone has assigned work details,” the man said. “I work in the kitchen downstairs, and Milly is the server girl.”
“Hostess,” Milly said.
The man smiled. “Sorry. Hostess.”
She glanced back at the two of them. There wasn’t much of a resemblance, so she crossed out father and daughter. Not brother and sister, either.
“I’m Peter,” the man said, holding out his hand.
She shook it. “Gaby.”
“Milly told me. How are we getting out of here, Gaby?”
She stared at him for a moment. “You don’t know?”
He shook his head. “We were hoping you might have a plan.”
“Are you serious? You’re the ones who are supposed to be rescuing me, not the other way around.”
Milly and Peter exchanged a look.
“Never mind,” Gaby said. “Tell me about the town. How many collaborators are here?”
“Collaborators?” Peter said.
“The guys in the uniforms with guns.”
“Oh.” He thought about it. “Seven. Four left yesterday, but four more came with the new group of arrivals
.”
“Is that too many?” Milly asked eagerly, still watching her face closely.
Gaby shook her head. “No. Seven is doable.”
I hope…
They were keeping her in a bed-and-breakfast just as she had guessed. That accounted for all the rooms on the second floor. According to Peter, except for her, everyone came and went as they pleased, though the building was reserved for singles.
Milly and Peter had their own rooms, and they disappeared inside them while Gaby stood watch at the top of the stairs. The first floor below her was empty, with everyone having already left for their “jobs.” Peter was still around because he worked in the kitchen while Milly assisted him.
“It sort of worked out perfectly for us,” Peter had said. “Besides Mac, there won’t be anyone here to stop us from leaving.”
“What about outside?” she had asked. “Where are all the other guards?”
“Walking around most of the time. You probably already know this, but this isn’t exactly a prison. They’re not going to stop anyone from leaving. Well, except you.”
Gaby had seen the way Peter looked at her more than once. He had questions, but he had (smartly) decided to keep them to himself for now. He didn’t really have the look of a chef, but then most of the people around L15 were probably doing things they didn’t think they would be doing before The Purge. She certainly had no idea she would be sneaking around a bed-and-breakfast with an AK-47.
Milly and Peter came back a few minutes later, both carrying large backpacks. Too large.
“What’s in there?” Gaby asked.
“Clothes,” Milly said. “And other stuff.”
“What kind of other stuff?”
“Deodorant, tooth paste, toothbrush…”
“Get rid of the clothes.”
“Why?”
“Take only what you need.”
“But I need my clothes,” Milly said.
“Get rid of the clothes,” Gaby said again.
Milly sighed and went back into her room.
Peter looked after the girl, then over at Gaby. “I, uh, just have socks and underwear. And some personal stuff.”
She nodded. “That’s fine.”
“How old are you, anyway?” he asked. She guessed that was one of the questions that had been swirling around in his head since they met.
“Old enough,” she said.
“I thought you’d be older.”
“You said that already.” Gaby glanced over as Milly came back out of her room with a noticeably lighter backpack. “Is there a back door?” she asked Peter.
He nodded and moved to take the lead, but she put a hand on his arm.
“I’ll go first,” she said, stepping ahead of him. “Just tell me where to go.”
“Down the stairs, turn right into the back hallway,” Peter said.
She moved down the stairs, the rifle in front of her. She didn’t particularly like the AK-47, but she knew how to use it. Although she was more familiar with the M4, there were other rifles on the island she had trained on over the months. Will always told her it was fine to have a favorite, but not at the risk of being ignorant of the rest.
As Peter promised, there was no one on the first floor. The emptiness made her nervous, with the main entrance looming in front of her. She glimpsed two figures standing across the street, both wearing camo uniforms similar to the ones Mac and Lance wore and the jacket she had on now. The uniforms made it easier to pick them out from the civilians. The last thing she wanted was to shoot someone who was just trying to survive the end of the world. The ones with guns, on the other hand…well, she could live with putting them down.
She turned right and led Milly and Peter into the back hallway. They followed (too) closely behind and made too much noise. There was a door at the end, sunlight filtering in through a security window. She reached it and looked out, past the sidewalk and at the buildings across the street. Large trees encircled the town in the near distance. Figures—men and women, and some children—moved along the sidewalks.
She looked back at Peter, then Milly. They were watching her anxiously.
“We’re going to walk out of here like we belong,” she said. “Act normally. Walk normally. You belong here. Don’t draw attention to yourselves, but don’t look away from anyone, either. Got it?”
They nodded back.
“If anyone calls your name, respond,” Gaby continued. “You’re doing what you’re supposed to do—going about your business.”
“Okay,” Peter said.
“Got it,” Milly nodded.
“I don’t see any vehicles except the ones the guards drive,” she said to Peter.
“There aren’t that many still left in town,” Peter said. “There are a couple of trucks and some ATVs parked near the administrative building.”
“Can we get to them?”
“I don’t see how. Besides you, those are the only places they actually guard.”
She could see it in Peter’s eyes again. It was the question that had been going through his mind: “What’s so special about you?”
But he didn’t voice it, and she was glad. Gaby didn’t feel like explaining her relationship with Josh. It was complicated. “See, there’s this guy, and he’s in love with me, but he has a really screwed up way of showing it.”
It sounded messed up even in her head.
“What about the horses?” Gaby asked. “I’ve seen them around.”
“There’s a stable on the south side, but there are people watching it. They’re not armed, but I don’t think they’re just going to give the animals to us.”
“They won’t have a choice.”
“Can you really just shoot them?”
She stared at him, wondering if the shock on his face was real. “Yes,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I don’t want to do that,” Peter said, and shook his head. “Can’t we find another way?”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“I want to leave this town, but not if I have to kill to do it.”
“You bashed Mac’s head in pretty good upstairs.”
He flinched. “That was different. He’s one of the guards, and it was necessary. These other people…they’re not dangerous.”
She could see the conflict on his face, and he reminded her very much of Nate.
Where are you, Nate? Are you dead? Are you out there somewhere? Are you one of those things now, lurking in the darkness?
“All right,” she said. “Then we’ll have to go on foot.” She looked back down the hallway. “The highway is back there.”
“The interstate,” Peter nodded.
“Then what’s on this side?”
“The farms, woods, and Hillman’s Lake, where they get the water.”
“And beyond that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never gone past the lake. I don’t think anyone has except the guards.”
Gaby took a breath. Milly smiled back at her, looking strangely confident in what they were about to do. Gaby couldn’t fathom what was going through the kid’s head at the moment. The last thing she was feeling was confidence. She wanted to escape, but she always thought she’d only have herself to take care of. Dragging a thirty-something guy and his, well, whatever it was Milly was to him, was never part of the plan.
Finally, she nodded. “All right. Remember: You belong here. Act normal.”
“Normal,” Peter said. “Right.”
She turned back around, opened the door, and stepped outside into the bright sun, gripping the AK-47 tightly in front of her, forefinger sliding comfortably close to the trigger.
Seeing and feeling the warmth of the sun from her apartment window (prison cell) was one thing; actually being outside walking under it was another. She had forgotten how freeing and comforting the daylight was. Even with all the potential dangers around her, Gaby couldn’t help but take a moment to soak in the clean air.
The first sound that reached her
after stepping out onto the sidewalk was loud hammering from across the street. A dozen men were carefully lowering a large rectangular sign—a gaudy monstrosity featuring a woman lying on her side, barely clothed—to waiting hands below them. There was a second, plainer sign leaning against the building with writing that read: “Housing #14.”
Other buildings around her were being similarly repurposed, their old signs either already redone or in the process of being replaced. They seemed to be working from right to left, probably depending on what they needed. With the constant arrival of new five-ton transport trucks on a regular basis, she imagined they had dozens, maybe even hundreds, of new people in need of homes every day.
Salvation comes at a price. Your blood. Your soul. Your future.
I’d rather die first.
“Let’s go,” she said quietly.
They started up the sidewalk, making a beeline for the end of the street. The road curved left out of town, but the tree line in front of her beckoned, promising safety within the woods beyond. Gaby set a calm, almost leisurely pace, smiling and nodding and exchanging looks with everyone they passed. No one wore uniforms, which helped to set her mind somewhat at ease, and she allowed herself to lessen the pressure against the AK-47’s trigger.
She expected to see men on horseback, but there were none. Instead, the streets and sidewalks were filled with civilians. Men, women, and children. And pregnant women. It wasn’t hard to pick them out of the crowd. There were a lot of them.
“How many pregnant women are in town?” she asked Peter.
“A lot,” he said. “Over a hundred. There are more women here than men. I asked around, and it’s the same in all the other towns.”
She could see for herself that he was right. For every man or boy she saw, there were at least two females. Some pregnant, others not. And there was something else she noticed: They were all young and healthy.
Perfect birth-giving age. To squeeze out babies for the monsters.
Gaby’s mood darkened.
I’d rather die first…
“Peter!” a female voice shouted.
Gaby looked over as a woman in her twenties walked briskly across the street toward them. She was slim and attractive, with long black hair that fell all the way to her waist. She wore a white one-piece dress and beamed at the sight of Peter. Gaby searched for the telltale signs of a baby bump, but there wasn’t one.
The Purge of Babylon Series Box Set, Vol. 2 | Books 4-6 Page 7
