The Purge of Babylon Series Box Set, Vol. 2 | Books 4-6

by Sisavath, Sam

  “A while,” Gene finally said.

  “Why are you still here?”

  “Because it’s safe. Well, mostly.”

  “How do you avoid the ghouls night after night?”

  “Ghouls?”

  “That’s what these people I met called them. Ghouls.”

  “Cool name,” Gene said. “But no. I mean, yeah, them too, but I don’t really have to worry about them too much. I’ve gotten good at staying away from the houses where they’re hiding. There are signs, if you know what to look for. But I’m really talking about guys like you.”

  “Guys like me?”

  “People on boats.”

  “Is that why you shot at me?”

  Gene gave him an almost embarrassed grin. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

  “No harm, no foul. Unless you count my boat. So you’ve had trouble before.”

  “Yeah, you can say that.” He tossed the empty MRE bag into a trashcan that was already brimming with garbage. The bag bounced off some cans of beans and landed on the sidewalk behind them. “I wasn’t always alone.”

  “Besides you and Deuce?”

  Another grin. “Yeah, besides me and Deuce.”

  “What happened to your friends?”

  “Soldiers came and took them,” Gene said.

  “You’ve been here before,” Keo said.

  “Yeah, I like it,” Gene said. “I can see the whole island from up here.”

  “Is that how you spotted me?”

  “Nah, I was just walking around when you showed up. I do that every morning. Go around the island, taking note of anything that might have changed during the night. It’s how I keep track of their movements.”

  “The ghouls.”

  “Uh huh.”

  They were inside one of the two-story houses on the hillside in the middle of the island. From the second-floor windows, Keo could see the entirety of Santa Marie Island’s five-mile stretch. The house faced west with a great view of the Texas coastline, along with a clear line of sight to the large marina in the center. He had to use a window at the back of the master bedroom in order to see the east marina where he had docked his twenty-two-footer. The boat looked incredibly lonely out there all by itself.

  There were empty cans of nonperishables on the first and second floors, and more signs that Gene had made use of the house in the recent past. The teenager told Keo that he didn’t worry about leaving evidence of his presence around since he never stayed at the same place two nights in a row anyway. In the bathroom of the master bedroom, Keo was surprised to find weapons—assault rifles, handguns, and boxes of ammo—housed inside the tub.

  “I didn’t know where to put them,” Gene said when Keo asked about the guns. “I found most of them around the island after we showed up. Maybe some of them belonged to your friends.”

  “Why the bolt-action and not one of the assault rifles?” Keo asked.

  “I learned to shoot with Deuce, so I guess I’m comfortable with it. What kind of gun is that?” he asked, nodding at the MP5SD.

  “Submachine gun.”

  “It doesn’t look like it can shoot far.”

  “It can’t. It’s a close-quarters weapon.”

  “Are you good with it?”

  “Depends on who you ask. You never told me how long have you’ve been here, Gene.”

  Gene was sitting on the floor behind him, going through the supply bag, while Keo looked out at the Texas coastline in the distance. Cool air from the open windows vented out the second floor, making it easier to be around Gene, who stank. It had obviously been a while since the teenager showered, and it hadn’t occurred to him to just take a swim in Galveston Bay every morning. Keo himself had done exactly that on the way over here.

  “You mean, did I ever come across your friends?” Gene asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Three months ago. But I definitely never met anyone named Gillian, or who looked like her.”

  Three months ago? Keo crunched the numbers in his head.

  The last time he had seen Gillian, Jordan, and the others was almost six months ago. That would have given them more than enough time to reach their destination before Gene. A three-month window. Possibly two, if they were somehow delayed. After all, it had taken him almost six months to finally get here, so who was to say it hadn’t taken them just as long? If, that is, they had made it at all.

  More ifs and maybes. He didn’t have a single clue what had happened to them. All this time, and he was probably chasing a ghost.

  Well, shit.

  Gene opened one of the water bottles and drank it. When he was done, he let out a whistle. “Man, this is good stuff. I ran out of bottled water months ago, and I’ve been drinking rain all this time, but this… Wow.”

  “It’s better cold,” Keo said absently.

  “Everything’s better cold, except the weather.”

  Keo smiled. The kid really did have a way with words. “You said the soldiers took your friends?”

  Gene nodded. “We ran across them a couple of weeks after we arrived. They cruised up to the western marina, and like idiots we went out there to greet them. They caught the others, but I managed to escape. They come back here every now and then to look for me, or to see if they can catch other two-legged fish.”

  “That’s why you shot at me.”

  “Normally they come from the west, but they’ve been known to try to sneak up on me from the east.”

  “Why don’t you just avoid them entirely?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you shoot at them, won’t they know you’re on the island?”

  Gene shrugged. “They already know I’m here. But knowing and finding me isn’t the same thing. I know every house on this rock, all the good places to hide. They always look for me, but at the end of the day, they always get bored and leave.”

  “How often do they come looking?”

  Gene thought about it. “About once a week since I’ve been here. The last time they came was about five days ago, so you know, they’re due. They have bases all across Galveston Island. I’m surprised they didn’t hear you coming through the channel.”

  “I was using a trolling motor. Ran out of gas about eight kilometers out.”

  “Kilometers?”

  “About five miles.”

  “Oh. Anyway, that probably explains it. Otherwise they might have intercepted you before you ever reached Santa Marie.”

  “They do that a lot?” he asked, thinking about Gillian and Jordan coming on Mark’s boat. Was that what had happened to them? Did they get intercepted?

  “That’s all they do,” Gene said. “People are always showing up here. Like you. Like us. Maybe like your friends.”

  Keo stared out the window at the coastline in the distance. The land, or what little of it he could see, was brown and gray under the sun. What were the chances Gillian had made it inland? Maybe they had decided to bypass the island entirely?

  “When was the last time you left this place?” he asked Gene.

  “Not since I arrived. Why would I?”

  “For one, you’re running out of food.”

  “Not really.”

  “No?”

  “There’s a big ocean out there. Once I run out of nonperishables, I figure I could always learn to fish.”

  “You mean you don’t know how to fish?”

  Gene gave him a noncommittal shrug. “I’m a fast learner. And I’ve been hoarding books about doing all sorts of things.”

  “Is one of them fishing?”

  “Fishing, hunting, shooting, all kinds of things.”

  Keo glanced at Gene’s rifle leaning against the wall nearby. Deuce looked well-used, its stock noticeably chipped.

  “So what now?” Gene asked. “You came here looking for your girlfriend, but she’s not here. She probably never even made it. So what’re you gonna do?”

  He sighed.

  Good question, kid.

  Keo spe
nt the next few hours walking around the island. For a place that stretched eight kilometers long, Santa Marie was a lot smaller than it looked from the water, with one main road that encircled the place. It was well designed to accommodate a small and privileged population, and he could see why it was so attractive. It was isolated, but just a boat ride away from the mainland, and perfect for those who could afford its limited space.

  As he walked out in the open, Keo could feel their eyes on him. They could see him, but he couldn’t return the favor. For every house that looked empty, there was one or two that showed clear signs of occupation, either by the pulled curtains or the furniture stacked on the other side of the windows to stave off the bright sun.

  Come out, come out, wherever you are…

  If Gene’s theory was correct and the creatures had arrived by ferry that first night and never left, then the islanders were still here, somewhere, either hiding in their old bedrooms or basements, or wherever they could find a dark, damp place. That led Keo to wondering how long these things could survive without fresh blood. Or did they even need fresh blood at all?

  The things he didn’t know about them could fill a book…or a dozen.

  Keo had completed a full circle around the island when he saw a figure moving on the roof of one of the homes in front of him. He unslung the MP5SD and slipped behind a power pole, realizing too late that it was much too small to hide his entire frame.

  He peered out and watched the figure, silhouetted against the sun, picking something up from the roof. It was a man—he could tell that much by the shape and shoulders—and as he straightened up—

  It was just Gene, and he was cradling a couple of plastic two-liter Coke bottles in his arms.

  The teenager spotted him and shaded his eyes, then shouted down, “Hey, what are you doing?”

  Almost putting a bullet in you, that’s what, Keo thought as he came out from behind the pole.

  “I scared ya?” Gene said, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

  “What are you doing up there?” Keo shouted up. He stood outside the house, which had two garden gnomes that had been completely overtaken by the weeds, giving them the impression of children lost in a forest.

  Gene held up one of the bottles. “Just retrieving this,” he said. Then, “Give me a sec,” and disappeared off the roof.

  Keo put the submachine gun away and looked around the street. He would never get used to the quiet, the nothingness staring back at him. He had no idea how the kid had survived by himself for so long. Keo would probably have gone insane after a month. Oh, who was he kidding? He probably wouldn’t have survived the first few weeks.

  Gene came out from behind the house, cradling the two bottles in his arms. One was half-full, the other even less than that. “Forgot to get these after the rain last week.”

  “Are they clean enough to drink?”

  “Only if you don’t subscribe to the theory that rain is just the gods taking a leak, then I don’t see why not.”

  Keo chuckled. “You’ve been here by yourself way too long, Gene.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  They walked up the street, back toward the house on the hill.

  Keo glanced briefly back at the house Gene was standing on the rooftop of a few moments ago. “No ghouls?”

  “Not the last time I checked, but I didn’t go inside.”

  “Scared?”

  “No point. I took whatever I could from the place last week.”

  “So how’d you get to the roof?”

  “Ladder in the back. You wouldn’t believe what you can find in people’s backyards if you look hard and long enough.” He walked in silence for a moment before adding, “They usually stay away from the smaller houses. There’s a whole nest of them in that red one near the west marina. The thing is, they don’t really move around that much. My mom had a word for it, but I can’t remember.”

  “Lazy?”

  “Nah. Something with an L, though.”

  Keo looked at the Coke bottles in the teenager’s arms. “How many of those do you have sitting around?”

  “Dozens. I told you, I could live here for the rest of my life on just the fish alone. I mean, I don’t want to, but if I had to, I could.”

  “What about your friends?”

  “What about them?”

  “Have you tried looking for them?”

  Gene shook his head. “I wouldn’t know where to start.” He paused, then glanced at Keo. “What about you? You decided what you’re gonna do next yet?”

  Keo sighed.

  “I take it that’s a no,” Gene said.

  “Maybe tomorrow—” Keo started to say, when he stopped and looked backward toward the east side of the island.

  “What?” Gene said.

  Keo shushed him, then unslung his MP5SD.

  The very familiar whine of boat motors in the distance, closing in fast…

  Chapter Three

  He had heard motors—more than one, he was sure of it—but as it turned out, there was just one craft; it just happened to have two motors in the back powering it. It was coming from the east, which meant it was probably cruising around the Gulf of Mexico when it decided to swing over to check out Santa Marie Island. Just his luck, it was heading straight for the marina, where his boat was tied up.

  It was some kind of offshore fishing boat, bigger than his twenty-two-footer by a mile, and a hell of a sight better looking, too. What he wouldn’t have given to have had something that comfortable during his three days on the ocean. He might have stretched it out to a week, just to prolong the solitude.

  The boat coming toward him now had a sleek deep V hull design and shiny navy blue colors on the outside, with an all white interior. Probably twenty-eight or twenty-nine feet long with a three-meter beam. He couldn’t see the man behind the steering console in the middle because of the enclosed T-top that hid him, but he didn’t have any trouble picking out the two soldiers on the bow. One was crouched and peering through binoculars at the marina, while the other stood watch with a rifle in a sling.

  He couldn’t make out any details across the distance, but it wasn’t hard to spot their uniforms. Soldiers. Except these guys were wearing dark black and not the brown and gray camo of the ones he was used to seeing back in Louisiana.

  “What’re they doing back so soon?” Gene said next to him.

  The teenager was whispering, even though he didn’t have to. They were flat on their stomachs along the ridgeline, about fifty meters from the marina to their right, and surrounded by plenty of rocky formations to hide them from even binoculars. The vessel was still more than 500 meters away but closing in fast, thanks to its dual motors.

  “The same ones that took your friends?” Keo asked, just to be sure.

  “Yeah, that’s them.” Gene lowered his binoculars. “Maybe they heard my gunshots...”

  “See what happens when you shoot at strangers?”

  Gene snorted. “Whatever. If you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have fired.”

  “And you wouldn’t have had that delicious lasagna MRE.”

  “That’s true.” Gene reached for his rifle lying nearby.

  “What are you doing?” Keo asked.

  “I’m going to shoot them.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Let them get closer. You’re not going to hit something moving that fast anyway. You could barely hit me, and I was crawling toward you.”

  “Good point.”

  “Let them come up,” Keo said, thinking, And I’ll figure it out as we go.

  It didn’t take long for the saltwater boat to reach the marina. The pilot deftly glided the vessel into the slip behind Keo’s twenty-two-footer, while one of the soldiers up front hopped onto the dock and pulled security. He watched the man go into a crouch and aim his rifle up and down, then side to side. Meanwhile, the second man tossed the line over, then followed it and tied the boat into place. They h
ad clearly done this many times before, so he wasn’t dealing with complete amateurs.

  “You think it was your boat or my shooting?” Gene asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Just curious.” Gene had slid his rifle up next to him and was clutching it. “You sure we shouldn’t—”

  “Yes,” Keo said. “Besides, I need to find out what they know.”

  “How’re you gonna to do that?”

  “I need to take at least one of them alive.”

  The motors cut off, and blessed silence once again swept across the island. All three of the soldiers were on the dock now, and one of them jumped onto the tied twenty-two-footer. He searched through the compartments under the console, then spent a few seconds peeking into the livewells.

  “I can take them,” Gene said.

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “No,” Keo said, probably a bit louder than he needed to that time.

  It had the desired effect, though, and Gene sighed as if Keo had given him a spanking. The kid unclutched his rifle and laid his chin against the ground and pouted.

  The soldiers were moving up the dock, the clomp-clomp-clomp of their heavy boots against the wooden structure echoing all the way up here. To his absolute non-surprise, they were all well-armed, wearing gun belts and sidearms, and the sun reflected off the barrels of their assault rifles. Either M4s or AR-15s, though given how every soldier he had met in Louisiana seemed to have been armed with the US military-adopted M4s, he was leaning toward the former.

  “Okay,” Keo said. When Gene lifted his head expectantly, he asked, “You see the fat one?”

  The kid peered through his binoculars. “Which one?”

  “The one in the back.”

  “That’s the fat one?”

  “Yes.”

  “He doesn’t look that fat.”

  “Okay, the biggest one in the back, then.”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s yours. When I make my move, you take him out. Got it?”