Road To Babylon Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Sisavath, Sam

  The creature’s upturned head plopped to the floor and it stopped moving completely, as if someone had hit a light switch and it simply…stopped.

  Keo was used to the sight. Ghouls were practically unkillable unless you shot or stabbed or cut them with silver. He’d seen headless ghouls, even ones missing half of their bodies, still attacking. It was the blood that coursed through their veins. The same disease that had infected them, turned them into monsters, made them vulnerable to silver. As long as the metallic element came into contact with their bloodstream, it was game over.

  “Like magic,” someone once said to him.

  Keo didn’t think it was magic. More like science. Not that he knew the answer, or cared to think about it too much. It wasn’t exactly his field of expertise. Not even close. Besides, there were scientists and historians (the ones still alive, anyway) out there trying to figure it out right now, he was sure of it: Where the ghouls came from, how the infection worked, or why silver was so poisonous to them that even a tiny drop caused instantaneous death. The only thing more fatal to the ghouls was sunlight, but it was hard to wield the sun or wear it in a holster at your hip.

  But those were questions for someone else to think about. He was tired and it was chilly, and he was going to have to dig a hole in the yard tomorrow. He wasn’t looking forward to that at all.

  Keo turned around and went back into the bedroom. He checked the wall clock before he slipped into bed.

  3:14 a.m.

  The hour of the wolf.

  He smirked and went back to sleep, but the P220 remained on the blanket over his chest, clutched in his right hand. As someone else once said, “Just in case.”

  One

  “How many were there?”

  “Just one.”

  “What did you do with it?”

  “You mean after I killed it?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “I buried it in the yard.”

  “Was it hard?”

  “Which part?”

  “Killing it.”

  “Not with silver.”

  “I meant… How long has it been since you killed one of them?”

  “It hasn’t been that long.”

  “Right,” Emma said. “I keep forgetting you’ve been here for less than a year. Before that, you were out there.”

  “What’s it like?” Megan asked.

  Keo looked over at her. Ten years old going on thirty, with her mother’s green eyes and light brown hair. The girl picked at her plate of corn and meat loaf (her least favorite of Emma’s cooking) and waited for an answer.

  “What’s what like?” Keo said, even though he knew perfectly well what she was referring to. He always wondered how long it would take her to finally ask, and apparently conversation between him and her mother about “out there” was the opening she’d been waiting for.

  Smart girl.

  “You know,” Megan said. “Out there.”

  “There’s nothing out there,” Emma said.

  “Are there a lot of them out there? Jim says there’s a lot of them out there.”

  “Are,” Emma said. “Jim says there are a lot of them.”

  “So there are?”

  Emma sighed.

  Keo smiled. “She’s correcting your grammar.”

  “Oh,” Megan said. Then, still to Keo, “How many have you killed? In total? Grace says you were in Houston when they killed the big one.”

  “Who’s Grace?”

  “Adam’s sister.”

  “I don’t know who Adam is.”

  She squinted her eyes at him, unsure if he was playing with her or not.

  Keo shrugged. “Scout’s honor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “What’s what?”

  “What’s Scout’s honor?”

  Right. She may be ten going on thirty, but she spent the last five years living in Winding Creek and the five years before that being a kid.

  “Just something people used to say,” Keo said before looking across the table at Emma for help.

  She gave him an amused smile. “You’re the one who kept it going.”

  Keo turned back to Megan. She hadn’t taken her eyes off him. “What did you learn about Houston, wonsungi?”

  “The Battle of Houston. It’s the reason we’re not ghoul food right now,” Megan said. “It’s why The Walk Out happened, when all the ghouls—or most of them, anyway—came out of hiding and walked into the light during the daytime and got fried. You should know, since you were there.”

  “According to Grace.”

  “Who got it from her dad.”

  “Brian, Grace’s father, is the school’s history teacher,” Emma said. “And English teacher. And, occasionally, math teacher when Christine’s out sick.”

  “That’s an awful lot of classes to teach,” Keo said. “Makes sense he would get a lot of things wrong,” he added, looking at Megan when he said it.

  The girl didn’t look convinced. “People who were there says a Chinese guy with a weird name was also there.”

  “Keo’s not Chinese, Megan,” Emma said.

  “You know that, I know that, but most folks don’t know that.”

  Keo grinned to himself. He liked her. He really did. She reminded him of someone else, who was always a little smarter than everyone around her.

  “So, what’s it like out there?” Megan asked.

  “It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter, just like in Winding Creek,” Keo said.

  “That’s all?”

  “And dogs.”

  “Dogs?”

  “They’re making a comeback. All the animals are. Squirrels, raccoons, land animals that were almost extinct five years ago. If you can shoot, you can pretty much live off the land.”

  “Or you could just grow something,” Emma said.

  Keo looked over and smiled. “Or you could do that, sure.”

  Emma reached over and poked Megan in the arm with her fork. “Finish your plate.”

  “But it sucks,” Megan said.

  “It’s Thursday. That means corn and meat loaf.”

  “Thursdays suck.”

  Emma sighed and glanced across the table at Keo for help.

  He shrugged back at her.

  She mouthed, “Please?”

  He sighed and turned to Megan. “Finish your plate, and I’ll give you one chance to ask me anything.”

  Megan’s face brightened up. “About out there?”

  “If that’s what you want, sure.”

  “Deal,” the girl said.

  “Thanks,” Emma said later.

  “Happy to help,” Keo said.

  “Were you actually in the scouts?”

  “I doubt they’d have me.”

  “What’s so bad about you?”

  “You wouldn’t ask that if you really knew me.”

  “Does it have anything to do with that scar?”

  “It doesn’t not have something to do with this scar.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I think having a grown-up conversation with Megan is easier.”

  Keo tightened his arms around her and inhaled her scent. She smelled of soap and water, but the fact it was coming from a beautiful and naked woman lying in bed with him made all the difference.

  He blew at strands of her dark hair. “She’s just going to keep asking about what’s out there, you know.”

  “I know,” Emma said quietly. “And she can keep asking as long as she doesn’t act on it.”

  “You think there’s a chance she would?”

  “I don’t know. She’s a curious child. Brian says when he needs someone to ask a question, he doesn’t have to look farther than her desk.”

  “She doesn’t strike me as much of a teacher’s pet.”

  “More like a teacher’s pest.”

  Keo chuckled. “Now that I can believe.”

  “You can help me with that, too.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Convinc
e her what’s out there isn’t worth seeing for herself.” She rested her chin on his chest to fix him with a pair of serious jade eyes. “You’ve been out there longer than anyone in town. You know how dangerous it is.”

  “It’s not for everyone, but it has its charms.”

  “Like what?”

  “Freedom, for one.”

  “There’s freedom here.”

  “Not like out there.”

  “And yet here you are, in Winding Creek.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s a lot of things out there, but it doesn’t have a gorgeous brunette who cooks for me and lets me sleep at her place whenever I want. Not to mention lie around in her bed while she’s naked as a jaybird.”

  “Oh, is that all I am to you? A cook and a sex partner?”

  “You’re more than that.”

  “How much more?”

  “You also do my laundry.”

  She sat up and glared down at him. “Get the fuck out of my bed, Keo.”

  He laughed. “You don’t mean that.”

  “The hell I don’t.”

  He pulled her down and kissed her. She resisted, pushing against his chest, but after a while she gave up and started kissing him back.

  “Asshole,” she said when he finally released her, and she lay back down on his chest.

  “I’ve been called worse,” Keo said.

  “Like what?”

  “You don’t wanna know. You might start blushing and never stop.”

  “Is that before or after The Purge?”

  “Before, during, and after.”

  “After?”

  “And after, after.”

  “I don’t know what that means.” She paused, then, “You were really there, weren’t you? In Houston.”

  “Yes.”

  “What was it like?”

  “Can we not talk about it?”

  “You don’t want to?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.”

  She didn’t say anything else for a while, and Keo alternated between listening to her soft breathing, Megan’s loud snoring in the bedroom next door, and what sounded like a wolf howling somewhere in the woods outside. He’d heard it last night, too, before the ghoul broke its way into his cabin. He had wondered if the creature had been alone. It used to be that where you found one ghoul, you usually found more.

  “You never told me what you were doing out there for five years,” Emma finally said.

  “Looking,” Keo said.

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. Just looking.”

  “If you don’t know what you were looking for, how would you know if you ever found it?”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t say it was a very fruitful five years.”

  She sighed. “It’s always a pleasure talking with you, Keo.”

  She went quiet again. He spent the next few quiet minutes enjoying the feel of her body, of her long legs sliding back and forth against his. He was almost 90% sure she wasn’t doing it on purpose, but then women always were his weakness, and he hadn’t found a total package that was more appealing than Emma these last few years.

  “Stop it,” Keo said.

  “Stop what?” she said, but he could hear the slight amusement in her voice. So she did know what she was doing, after all.

  “You’re the one who said you had to get up early tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He sat up on the small bed and picked her up, then lay her under him. She smiled just before he tasted her lips, then kissed her neck and kept going south. She let out a deep, satisfied moan, then bunched her fingers in his hair.

  “Keo,” she whispered.

  “Yeah?” he said, moving lower.

  “I’ve always wanted to ask…”

  “What?”

  “What kind of name is Keo, anyway?”

  “Kevin was taken.”

  “Oh,” she gasped. Then, her voice slightly pained, “Don’t leave tonight. Stay with me.”

  He didn’t answer her.

  “Keo,” she whispered. “Stay with me tonight.”

  He still didn’t answer her.

  He’d almost said yes. Almost promised to stay the night because her plea had caught him by surprise. In the months since she welcomed him into her and her daughter’s life, then later into her bed, Keo had never stayed over. It didn’t matter how late he stayed at their house; he always left before morning.

  He did that again tonight, pulling on his clothes in the dark as she slept. He picked up the holster with the SIG Sauer inside from the dresser and clipped it onto the belt behind his back. Then he grabbed his boots from the floor and walked barefoot across the pitch-black room. He didn’t really need his night eyes because he’d been in the room so many times and knew every nook and cranny by heart.

  He thought he might have heard her stirring behind him as he opened the door, but he (quickly) slipped out before he could be sure.

  It was cold outside, and he flipped up his jacket’s collar before making sure the front door and the security gate over it were both locked behind him.

  Winding Creek was deathly still an hour before midnight, but there was plenty of moonlight to show him the sidewalk and streets beyond Emma’s front yard. It never ceased to amaze him how well-kept the town was, like an old 1950s painting of what suburban America used to look like. The only things missing were white picket fences and milkmen delivering door-to-door. That is, if you could ignore the security gates fastened over every door, and windows that were reinforced with rebar to keep out (night-dwelling) intruders.

  He walked down the driveway and turned up the sidewalk, using the large white cross sticking up from the church in the main square as a beacon. Not that he needed the help since he’d made this walk so many times before.

  Houses lined the streets to both sides of him, solar-powered LED lights at strategic intervals keeping the night at bay. The majority of the houses were dark, the people inside sleeping the way normal people should be. (So what does that make you, pal?) There was the occasional light from a den or second-floor bedroom, but no movements on the other side.

  The world around him was so quiet Keo didn’t have any problems hearing the soft clop-clop coming up the street behind him from almost a block away. He knew who it was and kept walking, hoping that maybe he could avoid a conversation if he reached the edge of town fast enough.

  No such luck, as the horse picked up speed and the clop-clop grew louder.

  He thought about making a run for it but decided the explanation he’d have to give in the morning wasn’t worth the trouble.

  Eventually, the horse and its rider caught up to him.

  “Hey, Keo,” a voice said just before a black mare pulled up next to him.

  Keo nodded at Jim. The Winding Creek sheriff had a last name, but Keo didn’t remember it. People were using last names again these days, unlike five years ago when just a first name was enough.

  “What’s the point of being sheriff if you can’t give the midnight shift to the deputies?” Keo asked.

  “Deputies?” Jim chuckled. “Deputy. I wish I had deputies. You wanna volunteer to help me and Duncan out?”

  “Do you need help, Jim?”

  “Well, no…”

  “There’s your answer.”

  Jim smiled. He was an easygoing man in his fifties, who had been, according to Emma, a cop before The Purge. He had kept that occupation, to an extent, when the town became a ghoul haven like hundreds (thousands) of places just like it six years ago. A year after that, with the ghouls’ reign over, Jim was still wearing the uniform. Unlike a lot of self-appointed collaborator “authority,” Jim was well-liked by the people he oversaw and had kept his position by unanimous vote.

  “I’ve been meaning to look for you anyway,” Jim was saying.

  “Yeah?”

  “Heard you ran into a ghoul last night.”

  “More like it ran into me. Or my cabin’s w
indow, to be exact.”

  “Just one?”

  “Yeah, just one window.”

  “No, I mean, just one creature?”

  “Just the one.”

  Jim didn’t say anything right away. In the temporary silence, the only sounds were Keo’s footsteps and the clop-clop of the horse’s hooves. The animal’s breath formed mists in front of it with every snort, and Keo thought it was giving him the side eye every few steps like it didn’t trust him.

  “There have been reports,” Jim began.

  “About?”

  “Possible evidence of ghouls in the area. Duncan and I have been looking into them, but they were all dead ends.”

  “How long ago?”

  “The first one was about a week ago. Just footprints in the ground that looked human but weren’t.”

  “The ghouls used to be humans, Jim.”

  “I know. That’s why we took it seriously enough to track it into the woods before we lost it.” He paused again. “But with you actually having seen one, I think it might be wise to take another look at the reports.”

  “Have you told the others?”

  “We thought it was prudent not to just yet. It might create unnecessary panic.”

  “How long has it been since a ghoul showed up in town?”

  “Not counting your encounter? The last time was two years ago. There were five of them, and they made a nest in one of the homes.”

  “How did you kill them?”

  “We burned down the house. Fried the whole lot.”

  “You can always do that again.”

  Keo glanced at the gun belt around Jim’s waist and the six-shot revolver in the holster. Cowboy cop, Keo had thought when he had first met the man. You didn’t see a lot of revolvers anymore, not when an automatic handgun could hold twice—most times much more than that—rounds. When you were dealing with ghouls, numbers mattered—theirs, and the bullets you brought to the party.

  Because where there’s one, there’s usually more around…

  They continued in silence for a few more seconds before Keo finally said, “What’s on your mind, Sheriff?”

  “We could use your help,” Jim said.