“Nooooooo!” The wail of misery rips its way out of my throat, scratching it raw. The scream sets me in motion, and I try to run to her, but I'm caught by Luke as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to his chest, shielding me from the horror. He threads his hand into my hair, keeping my gaze pinned to him. I fight against him the entire way as he drags me out of the room. I need to get to Liv.
“Shut the fucking door,” he snarls at someone, and I hear it bang shut.
The resulting echo resonates inside of my head with a finality that my heart doesn't want to accept. Liv and Coop are gone. The misery and horror finally break through my fragile control, and with a breaking soul I melt against Luke, wrapping my arms tight around his neck as I start to sob uncontrollably.
The sadness and grief are almost too much to bear. Luke's voice is thick with sorrow as he whispers against the top of my head, “I'm so sorry,” over and over.
All around me the grief of the rest of my crew echoes, and it finally registers that I'm not alone. Every single one of us is suffering. Gordon. Mike. Kelly. Dom. Every single one of them had people in that room they cared about. Sam.
I lift my eyes, searching for him in the hallway.
“Sam,” I cry, and he pushes himself away from the wall, wiping away his own tears. “Amy...”
The terror in my voice conveys everything I'm feeling. Liv would not leave Amy to fend for herself. Not without a fight. Is she in there? Was the horror of seeing her too much for my mind to comprehend?
“She's not there, Bix,” he answers me right away, knowing what I'm thinking. “I looked. She's not there.”
I slump against Luke again, in relief. But my relief is short lived. If Amy isn't in that room with Liv and the others, then where is she?
“There you all are,” Badger’s voice echoes at us from the other end of the hall as he and Robyn stride towards us. “We've been looking for you...what is it?”
Luke sighs wearily as he lets me out of his arms. Running a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the images we'd just seen, he nods at the door. “Most of the council is in there. Along with some others. All dead.”
“Fuck me.”
“Jesus H. Christ.”
Badger and Robyn express their outraged horror simultaneously.
“These bastards weren't kidding, were they?” Badger adds, shaking his head in denial and trying to absorb this recent development.
“How did they get in?” Dom’s voice is taut with anger. “I mean, it's not like we had rookies guarding the wall. How did they manage to get past everyone and do this?”
“Well, that's the million dollar question, isn't it?” Mike agrees. “Kingsley and his men aren't stupid. They wouldn't have fallen for any old ruse.”
“I think we might be able to provide some answers on that. Or at least lead us to those that can,” Badger supplies, catching all of our attention.
“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice still shaky with emotion.
“We just came from the sixth floor. Robyn had the idea that some of the residents would have fled to the roof to try and get away. With the ravagers coming at them from below, the only place to go would be up. Seems like she's right. The door to the roof is jimmied shut from the outside. We tried to get someone to answer us, but that's a pretty damn thick door. If our people are on the other side, they may just think it's ravagers trying to break through. We need a way to get the door open or at least communicate with them.”
It takes a while for my reeling head to register what Badger is telling us. But finally it kicks me in the teeth.
“Some of our people are on the roof?”
Badger nods. “We think. Someone or something has barred that door from the roof side.”
Our people are on the roof. That means Amy could be there.
I feel a spark of hope ignite in my crushed heart. “What are we waiting for?”
* * *
We avoid further thorough examinations of any of the floors. We don't want or even have time to deal with Gunner's little Easter eggs. Plus, I don't think I could handle finding any more bodies of our people. Not at the moment. I know we will have to search each room sooner or later…just not now. So instead, we handle each floor on our way up with the same approach. We walk through the hallway, shutting each open door with care in case they have leeches planted in the rooms. We don't want to draw them out. Then once the floor is secured, Gordon yells out a message. If there are survivors, we want them to know it's safe to come out. The message is simple. After we identify ourselves by name, we tell them the bottom floor has been purged, is safe, and to wait for us in the kitchen area. Nowhere else but the kitchen. We don't want them stumbling into the Bullshit room or seeing the bodies in the lobby. We hope there are still people alive to hear the message.
The metal door to the roof is jammed from the other side, just like Badger said it was. No matter how many times Luke pushes on the panic bar and lunges against the door, it doesn't budge. Something is keeping it shut on the other side.
“Hey.” He slams his hand against the steel door and presses his face up to the door frame. “Hey. Anyone out there? Can you hear us? It's okay. It's Unit four. Luke, Bixby, Gordon, Badger. Anybody?”
He slams his fist a couple more times for good measure, but still nobody answers.
“Luke, stop,” I say as he hammers the door again. “If there are people out there, you're probably terrifying them with that banging.”
He looks back over his shoulder at me in frustration. “Well, what do you suggest we do?”
I shrug, just as frustrated. “I don't know. Can we break it down somehow?”
“You got a battering ram in your pocket?” Robyn sneers at me from her side of the hallway.
My stare back is void of any anger. I'm too emotionally drained right now, and I just don't have the fight in me. “You have a better idea?”
“Guys,” Gordon interrupts, but I ignore him. I'm not in the mood for his crazy talk right now.
Robyn seems taken aback at my lackluster response. Suddenly she uncrosses her arms and looks Luke's way. “Is she right? Can we break it down?”
“I don't think so. It's a pretty solid door. What would we use as a battering ram?”
“Guys,” Gordon interrupts again, and again he's ignored.
“I'm sure we could find something,” Badger muses, looking up and down the short hallway. “But I'm not sure if there's room enough to create the force needed to ram it. What do you think, Mike?”
“No, definitely not enough room.” Mike shakes his head as he studies the space. Suddenly his eyes light up and he turns Luke's way. “Can we use Morse code? That way we can let them know it's us on this side.”
Luke nods in agreement. “Yeah, that just might work. Providing there's someone on that side who can understand it.”
“Guys,” Gordon practically yells it this time, forcing all eight pairs of eyes his way.
“What, Gordon?” Mike asks in frustration.
“Try calling them on the radio. I keep a radio in the air vents between the hot tubs. It's how I know it's dinner time when I'm up there. Try the radio. Maybe one of them will hear it.”
The look of disbelief that flies around the room would have been funny if we had anything left to laugh about.
“Gordon, you fucking little genius,” Mike shouts as he pulls his kid brother into a headlock and rubs his knuckle into his head. “Good thing I got the looks in the family, huh?”
Luke pulls his radio from his belt, and I tense as it crackles to life. “Hello. This is unit four. Luke Whitman and the crew. If any survivors are on the roof, we hope you can hear us. It's us on the other side of the door. You can let us in. It's safe.”
His message is met with nothing but static.
“Is it on the right frequency?” I ask with impatience.
Luke looks Gordon's way. “Your radio out there is on the Grand's main channel, yes?”
Gordon nods in response,
so Luke tries again.
“If there are any survivors on the roof, the radio you are hearing is in the air vents by the hot tub garden. Let us know you are there. It's safe to open the door. Can you hear us?”
I lean forward toward Luke, almost urging that answer to come through the radio. Please, somebody answer!
A few minutes of dead air go by then, “Hello?”
At that simple word, I cover my mouth with my hand and shake my head in relief as every bit of tension oozes out of my body, and I sag against the wall. Badger gives a shaky laugh as he joins me. Mike shakes his kid brother's shoulder in excitement, whipping him around like a rag doll, but Gordo doesn't seem to care. He's smiling from ear to ear.
Luke looks heavenward and lets out a huge breath. “Hello! Boy, it's good to hear your voice. Who is this?”
“Question is how do we know you are who you say you are?”
I know that voice. Is that...is that Mrs. D? I can't help the little smile pulling at my lips. Trust her, of all people, to make it.
“That's Mrs. Darby,” I say to Luke with conviction.
“Mrs. D., is that you?” he asks into the radio. “Open the door and let us in.”
“Boy, I didn't just fall off the back of a turnip truck. You have to prove who you are first.”
Luke looks around in bewilderment. “Is she being fucking serious right now?” He raises the radio back to his lips. “Mrs. D, it's us. How would we know about the radio in the air vent if it wasn't us? Or even who you are?”
“If you're Luke, then Bixby is with you, right? Give her the receiver.”
I look at Luke with a puzzled shrug as he hands me the radio.
“It's me, Mrs. D,” I say into the receiver. “Can you open the door, please?”
“First, I want you to answer a question,” her old lady voice cackles back. “I gave Bixby a good luck gift before she left. What was it?”
Even though I know she can't see me, I smile at the radio. “Your tin flask, filled with the best fifty-year-old whiskey. And boy, do I have a story to tell you about that.”
The radio goes dead. No response. I look up at the others in bafflement. What's happening? Then we hear a screeching sound of metal before the door is pulled open, and we're struck with a blast of cold air.
Mrs. Darby stands in the door, her normally tidy bun in total disarray, her clothes disheveled, and holding a broom handle above her head. Illuminated against the backdrop of the full moon, she kind of reminds me of a crazy Halloween witch silhouette.
“Thank God,” she says, her voice breaking as she lowers the broom. “I've never been happier to see anyone before in my life.”
* * *
Eighty two. That's how many of our people are left. Most of them had been saved by making it to the roof, thanks to Mrs. D and Cal. The few that had managed to stay safely hidden and alive are waiting for us downstairs in the cafeteria. Eighty two in total. Out of three hundred. Amy is not one of them.
The survivors recount the horrible events of the past two days. How the ravagers had tricked the guards into opening the gate by sending a running Wentworth down the street with a horde of leeches on his heels. How, even if he had wanted to, Wentworth couldn't yell out a warning since his tongue had already been cut out. How the two hundred plus waiting ravagers had ascended on the gate, killing the guards and breaking through before anyone inside had known what was happening.
The story is told with buckets of tears and misery, but I don't join in. I can't. I'm hollow. Empty inside. Liv and Coop and so many others I care about are dead. Amy, and Jess and Cookie, and countless others of our younger and weaker members unaccounted for. Most likely taken away by the ravagers for purposes too horrifying to think about. My mind can't seem to wrap itself around that and I feel like a part of me is shutting down. Like I'm being cut in half and the screaming, grieving part of me is being put under lock and key, leaving just an empty shell.
As the last words of the story dwindle away, a silence descends over the room. A silence of disbelief. Shock. Fear. Only sound is the wind as it whistles through the vents and up through the dumbwaiter, causing a low moaning to echo around the room. Even the wind seems to be in mourning.
“So, what do we do now?”
I don't know who asks the question. It doesn't matter. What matters is all eyes turn to us. They turn to Luke and Sam and me and the rest of our crew as if we have the answers. I don't know how to answer, so I look to my solid rock foundation for support. Luke's determined eyes meet mine and I know his response before he even says it. That look starts a fire burning in my belly, chasing away the cold emptiness and replacing it with a promise of revenge.
“The only thing we can do. We go get our people and bring them back home.”
# # #
Thank you for reading. Please consider leaving a review on the online retailer
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OTHER WORKS BY MICHELLE BRYAN
Awaken (New Bloods Trilogy Book 1)
Ascension (New Bloods Trilogy Book 2)
Grand Escape (Strain of Resistance Prequel)
Strain of Resistance (Bixby Series Book 1)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Biography
Michelle Bryan lives in Nova Scotia, Canada, with her husband, son, and two crazy felines. Besides her family, her other passions in life consist of chocolate, coffee, and writing. When she’s not busy being a chocolate store manager or spending the day at her computer, she can be found with her nose stuck in any sort of apocalypse book. Please visit her on Facebook, Goodreads, and Amazon or follow her on Twitter @michellebry101. She would love to hear from her readers, so feel free to leave comments or ask questions.
Strain of Defiance (Bixby Series Book 2) Page 20
