“Yes?” he finally said. Then, looking over at Savannah, “I was joking. Trying to make light of this,” he said, holding up his bandaged arm.
“You said, ‘I hope we’re the same blood type, because I may need some blood,’” Savannah said.
Greg flashed an embarrassed smile. “Something like that.” Then, turning back to Emily, “What about it?”
“What about Barnes?” Emily asked.
“Barnes?”
“Do you happen to know his blood type?”
Greg thought about it for a moment.
“It’s okay if you don’t—” Emily started to say.
“AB, I think,” Greg finally said.
“Are you sure?”
“Mostly.”
“‘Mostly?’”
He shrugged. “We gave blood to the Red Cross a few months back for a charity drive. I remember us comparing blood types for some reason. You know, just guy chatter. Nothing to do when you’re just sitting there getting blood pumped out of you.”
“So, AB?”
“I think so.”
“But not O-negative like you? That, you’re sure of.”
“Yes.” Then, squinting at her the way Savannah had earlier, “Why? What’s that got to do with anything?”
The contractor glanced over at Savannah as if to ask her the same question.
The teen shrugged back at him. “Don’t ask me.”
“What’s going on?” he asked Emily. “I was having a really nice dream until you woke me up.”
Emily leaned back against the sofa. “I’m O-negative, too.”
“You are?”
“You are?” Savannah repeated. “That’s wild.”
“It’s wild, all right,” Greg said. “So all three of us are O-negative?” Then, perhaps picking up on what Emily was trying to get at, “You think that has something to do with why we weren’t infected?”
“Maybe,” Emily said.
“Barnes was AB, but he was infected. What about your neighbors?”
Emily shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly take inventory of everyone’s blood type when I moved in.” She looked over at Savannah. “What about Pete?”
“Pete?” Savannah said.
“What was his blood type?”
The teenager shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Emily nodded. It had been a long shot anyway that the teens would know each other’s blood type. As she had told the girl earlier, most adults didn’t know theirs. Why would teenagers? Savannah had known hers because she was a daily guest at the local hospital and would have either read or heard it mentioned at least once. She might have even memorized it, believing that it was something important. Which, of course, it was.
“It’s a hell of a coincidence if it doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on out there,” Greg was saying.
Emily nodded. “Yeah, it would be. And I don’t believe in coincidences.”
Then, she smiled.
“What?” Greg said.
“What?” Savannah repeated.
Emily continued smiling at the two of them.
“What?” Greg said again.
“My husband, Cole,” Emily said. “He’s O-negative, too.”
Chapter 26
“Cole’s out there, and he wasn’t affected. That means he’s on his way back here to me right now.”
Greg and Savannah exchanged a look. They weren’t very subtle about it, either. Not that Emily cared.
The big contractor finally turned back at her. “You sound pretty sure about that.”
“I am,” Emily said.
“It’s been three days…”
“We’re a long way from downtown. If it’s like this everywhere in the city—especially in downtown—then Cole has it a hundred times worse than us. He would have to fight his way here. And I’m not just talking about the traffic.”
“The psychos,” Savannah said.
“Yes.”
“If he wasn’t affected,” Greg said.
“He wasn’t,” Emily said. She stood up. “I don’t believe in coincidences. The three of us are all O-negative and weren’t affected. But Barnes, who wasn’t, was. That’s not a coincidence. That’s a pattern. I believe in patterns.”
“Emily…”
She pursed a smile at him. “Greg, I’m not asking for your permission. I’m not even asking you to believe me.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m just being perfectly honest with you. I don’t care what your opinions are on this matter.” She looked over at Savannah. “Or yours.”
The teenager grinned. “So, just like my parents, then?”
“Sorry.”
“Nah. It’s cool.” She shrugged. “I kinda like that you’re going to do what you’re going to do. It’s pretty badass.”
Emily smiled at the girl. She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. “I’m just doing what I have to. I don’t know about badass.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so badass.”
“So we’re not going to talk about it?” Greg asked. Unlike Savannah, apparently he didn’t think what she had told them she was going to do was very badass.
Emily shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“There’s a lot to talk about.”
“No, there isn’t.”
“Emily…”
“There isn’t, Greg.” She sighed and softened her expression a bit. A little bit. “This is not a democracy, and I’m not asking for permission.”
“But it sounds like a really, really bad idea.”
“Maybe you’re right, but I’m doing it anyway.”
She walked over to the table with the guns and ammo and sifted through them. She swept the pouches with the gems to the floor and dug into the duffel bags, searching for something she’d spotted earlier but had forgotten which bag they were in.
“What are you looking for?” Savannah asked.
“A radio,” Emily said. “I saw it in one of the bags earlier.”
She found it. It was a two-way portable, the kind law enforcement used. It made perfect sense since Bowman and his fellow jailbirds had stolen everything they had from the cops at the nearby station.
Emily turned the radio on but only got static. She wasn’t too surprised by that result, though. If the phones didn’t work and the power was down everywhere, the last thing most people would do was look for a radio to start communicating.
Most normal people, anyway.
Her husband was anything but normal.
“You’re really doing this?” Greg asked.
“Yes,” Emily said.
“Can we just think about it for a second?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Please?”
She sighed and stared at him. “He’s out there, and I need to make contact with him. Cole would be looking for a way to make contact with me, too. The phones are down. TV is down. I need to find out if everything is down.”
“It’s a big risk.”
“It’s one I’m willing to take.”
She could see it in his eyes: He didn’t just disagree but was going to fight tooth and nail to make her agree with him. That, after all, was why she’d manipulated to keep him in the house with her when all of this first started: Greg’s willingness to be her knight in shining armor. He was just doing the job she’d given him right now.
“Greg,” she said, “let’s get this straight. I don’t care what you think. I’m not sure if I made that obvious yet.”
He sighed, looking almost offended. Oh, who was she kidding? There was nothing almost about his face at the moment.
“Yeah, you did,” he said.
She should have felt a little guilty, but she didn’t. “I’m going to do what I need to do, and you and Savannah will stay in here.”
“You’re going out there on your own?” Savannah asked. She sounded alarmed. Or scar
ed. Both.
“It’s better that way,” Emily said, though what she really wanted to say was: The two of you would just get in the way.
Especially Greg, who could barely move one arm—his dominant arm, at that. And while Savannah had surprised Emily when the teen went outside earlier to look for her, Emily also remembered that the kid had nearly killed her with the Glock.
No, this was something she had to do on her own.
Greg stood up, wincing as he did. “If I can’t stop you, then I’ll just have to go with you.”
“No,” Emily said.
“You can’t stop me.”
“You sure about that?”
“Absolutely,” he said.
Or started to say, but before he could get the -ly part out, Emily had snatched up one of the spare magazines on the table and tossed it at him.
Greg lifted his right hand to catch the mag on instinct and let out a heavy, pained grunt. The spare ammo hit him in the chest and fell to the floor.
“Shit,” Greg said.
“Exactly,” Emily said. “Out there, in your current condition, you’re a liability to me.”
The big man sighed and sat back down.
“I’m sorry, Greg,” Emily said.
He forced a smile, but it wasn’t even close to being convincing. “I thought I was the one protecting you in here.”
“You did. But not anymore.”
“I guess not.” He looked toward the door, then back at her. “So that’s it?”
She nodded.
“Okay,” he said. Then, pursing a more convincing smile, “Watch out for dogs.”
“What about me?” Savannah asked.
Emily turned to her. “What about you?”
“I won’t be a liability.” Quickly, to Greg, “Sorry.”
Greg chuckled. “It’s okay, kid. You’re right. You’re both right.”
Emily said to the girl, “You almost shot me upstairs, remember?”
Savannah’s face paled. “Oh.”
“Besides, both Greg and I need you in here.”
“Why?”
“Greg needs you to watch over him, and I need someone to open that door for me should I have to hightail it back here in a hurry.”
The teenager nodded. “I can do that.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Greg grunted. “Great. So everyone’s got a job except me.”
“You have a job,” Emily said.
“I do? What’s that?”
“Not dying.”
“Oh, that,” the big contractor said.
“You sure you wanna be doing this?” Savannah asked.
The teen was whispering, even though she didn’t really have to. They had been standing next to the door for the last thirty minutes or so, listening for any sounds on the other side, and hearing nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Emily nodded back at her. “Ready?”
“No,” Savannah said, “but since when have I ever gotten what I wanted?”
“You got this.”
“I do?”
“I have faith in you.”
“Why?”
Emily couldn’t help herself and grinned at the kid. “Open the door.”
“Sure?” the teenager asked. Then, “Sure, sure?”
“Open the door, Savannah.”
The teenager sighed, then did just that. She unlocked the door and pulled it open…
…and Emily stepped outside with the shotgun and enough ammunition on her to kill the entire neighborhood.
And maybe, just maybe, she might have to do exactly that.
Chapter 27
Buzzing sounds.
Flies.
A lot of them.
She tuned the sounds out. Or as much of it as she could, anyway, in order to focus on the task at hand.
“It’s a hell of a coincidence if it doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on out there,” Greg had said.
“Yeah, it would be. And I don’t believe in coincidences,” she had said.
And she didn’t. Most of the time. Her job used to be to gather intelligence and make a smart, rational decision based on the evidence at hand. There was no room for emotions, for personal conflicts. It was how she’d done it for years, long before she ever met Cole.
But then she did meet Cole, and that was when things went wrong.
Or maybe the better descriptor was right.
Of course, her superiors would probably disagree, but then they hadn’t fallen in love with a charming devil-may-care rogue that did whatever the hell he wanted and did it well. Not everyone knew the things about Cole that she did—that underneath the tough exterior he was a caring human being that always, always tried to do the right thing. He might not always succeed—that devil on his shoulder had a lot to do with that—but he always did his best.
That was Cole. That was the man she loved. And when it came to him, she didn’t always think straight. She couldn’t always be emotionless.
And she didn’t give a damn, either.
“It’s a hell of a coincidence if it doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on out there,” Greg had said.
“Yeah, it would be. And I don’t believe in coincidences,” she had said.
Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn’t. She could spend a day—longer—trying to convince herself that she was acting on the intel at hand and not from optimism driven almost purely by emotion, but she’d be lying to herself. It’d been three days—okay, technically just two days and an extra morning—and she hadn’t heard a peep from Cole.
Greg hadn’t wanted to say it, but she could see it in his face: “What if your husband is already dead, Emily?”
What if he wasn’t?
What if he was just hurt, somewhere out there?
What if he was trying to make his way home to her now?
What if he was doing all he could to make contact?
What if…
What if.
Fuck what if, she thought as she moved through the back hallway, the shotgun in front of her but not raised. She wouldn’t need to aim to hit anything that popped out in front of her in the narrow passageway. One pull, and they’d be dead. Man or animal.
There was nothing new on the floor between the backroom and the stairs that hadn’t been there when she escaped through it earlier. The bodies remained where they were, the blood just as spread out, though a bit darker now. The smell was thicker, though, but that was expected when you put dead bodies inside close confines. In a day—maybe less than that—the house would stink of death. The sound of flies buzzing was impossible to ignore, no matter how hard she tried.
So much for my dream house.
There was nothing that screamed out someone had traversed the area the last time she was out here with Savannah. She kept both ears open, but the only sounds she could pick up were her own intense breathing and heartbeat striking her chest. Too loud. Way, way too loud. She hadn’t felt this much adrenaline in a long time. Not even when she was fighting off those dogs earlier, or trying to keep Don from stabbing her in the face with that hoe of his.
But right now, she couldn’t help it. She was outside the safety of the backroom, beyond its heavy metal door, and alone.
And why was that?
Because she didn’t believe in coincidences.
Because she wanted desperately to believe Cole was out there, maybe waiting for her to contact him.
Because she was acting on emotions instead of raw intel.
Step one: Know your objective.
Stay alive. Which she’d managed to do for two days and change despite some very adverse situations.
Step two: Gather intel.
She was doing that, even if all the intel was a little…sketchy, and most of it was assumptions instead of cold, hard facts.
Step three: Formulate a plan.
Make contact with Cole. That one was pretty easy.
And finally, step four: Execute that plan.
Go to the rooftop with the police radio and try to see if she could make step three happen.
It wasn’t exactly the best of plans, she had to admit, but she couldn’t think of anything else. The only other option was to hide in the backroom, waiting for Cole to show up. No. Emily knew herself, and that would drive her batty.
The old Emily, that had spent years in Army Intelligence and then later, in the private sector plying the same exact trade, would have turned around and returned to the backroom. Hell, the old Emily wouldn’t have been caught out here in the first place. She’d be able to separate her emotions from the job. Nothing good came from following your emotions.
That was, after all, how she ended up in a house in the suburbs with Cole, and carrying his child.
She sighed and paused for a bit. She took her hand off the forend of the shotgun and touched her stomach. Still nothing more than a slight bump. But the lack of overt physical evidence of her pregnancy didn’t mean very much, because she knew what was inside and how much she dearly loved the man who had put it there.
Dammit, Cole, she thought as she pressed on.
She didn’t have any trouble seeing the front door from where she stood in the back hallway. There was a big, gaping hole there, allowing a generous flood of afternoon sunlight to brighten up the gory shitshow that her dream home had become. There were more shafts of light coming from other directions, reminding her that the windows were also wide-open at the moment. There was absolutely nothing to keep anyone—or anything—out right now.
The stench of blood was stronger once she was beyond the safety of the back hallway. There was a lot of it. Human and animal, even if she could only see the humans that had bled them. The animals…
Why did the dogs take their dead? That’s not normal.
Then again, what about these few days was normal?
Emily didn’t lollygag. She exposed herself just long enough as she stepped out of the backroom hallway to swing the shotgun left, then right, then left again to sweep the visible parts of the living room. She could only see a small section of the kitchen from here, but it was enough to tell her there was nothing—and no one—waiting for her to do something stupid.
Fall of Man | Book 2 | Homefront Page 21
