Dark Days (Book 6): Survivors

by Lukens, Mark

  As soon as Crystal was halfway to the side yard, two Dark Angels came around the corner, aiming their M-16s at her.

  Petra stayed silent as she aimed her gun at the closer of the two men, aiming right at his head even though she’d been taught to aim at the chest when shooting at the gun range. But she wasn’t taking a chance that they might be wearing bullet-proof vests.

  Crystal dropped her weapon and froze.

  Petra fired, the bullet tearing through the man’s left eye and exploding out the back of his head.

  The other man turned to fire, but Petra got him first, dropping him with a bullet to his forehead.

  Two more Dark Angels came around the corner, already firing. Crystal dropped down to the ground, curling up and holding her hands over her ears.

  Petra dived deeper into the woods as bullets pelted trees all around her. She wanted to help Crystal and Lance, but there was no way she could get to them now. She had no choice but to run; if she stayed she would be shot.

  She ran blindly, not sure where she was going. She kept her pistol in her gloved hand. Her backpack was light but still felt like a hindrance, but she didn’t dare ditch it just yet—she had her extra ammo and bottles of water in there. She’d been in the habit of carrying a backpack with her since the Collapse began, always carrying basic supplies with her. Maybe later, if she survived, she could go through the contents and evaluate what was absolutely critical to carry with her.

  After five minutes of running, Petra stopped to catch her breath. The woods had thinned out a little and she could see a few hundred feet in every direction. Some of the trees were bare, the foliage long dropped during the fall. It wasn’t the best coverage, but she didn’t see anyone yet. She could hear them, but they sounded far away, off in a different direction.

  Petra had no idea which direction she was running in—she just wanted to put some distance between her and her pursuers. She felt bad for running, but it had been a split second decision. She had tried to help Crystal; she had tried to keep her in the woods. Maybe they could have gotten around to the front of the house through the woods and picked off more of the Dark Angels, made the odds a little better. Maybe they could have gotten to the van or to one of the pickup trucks. Maybe they could have gotten back to the store. But Crystal hadn’t waited—she had gone after Lance. She was probably dead now. They all were.

  A fury burned in Petra. She knew there’d been a mole in that store—she should have taken her instincts more seriously. Jeff . . . she never thought it would have been Jeff. She vowed to kill Jeff if she made it back to the store without being killed by Dark Angels or eaten by rippers. Yes, she would kill Jeff as soon as she saw him.

  CHAPTER 55

  Kate

  It was getting late, almost an hour and a half from sunset, and Petra and the others weren’t back yet. Kate was getting worried; that overwhelming feeling of doom was weighing down on her again.

  They should have been back by now.

  Even Jo was starting to get a little worried because she couldn’t reach them on the walkie-talkie, and they should have been within range.

  “Maybe something happened,” Jo said. “Maybe one of the trucks broke down.”

  “Wouldn’t they all just pile into the other two trucks?” Kate suggested. She figured that was the point of taking three vehicles. “Maybe the Dark Angels pinned them down somewhere.”

  Jo didn’t respond—it was like she didn’t want to speak those thoughts aloud, like voicing them would somehow make them real. “I’ll keep trying to reach them. They’ll be back soon.”

  Kate went back to the tent to check on Brooke. She was curled up inside the tent with Tiger. Brooke hadn’t been sleeping well and it was good that she was catching up on her rest. She lay motionless. Kate hoped she wasn’t dreaming, that the Dragon had left her alone for a little while.

  Maybe the Dragon had other pressing issues to get to.

  She wasn’t sure where that thought had come from. She tried to push it away.

  For a moment she thought about crawling into the tent with Brooke to lie down next to her, but she didn’t want to wake her. Besides, she was too restless to lie down. She felt like she needed to walk, to move, to do something to prepare for this dark tidal wave that she felt was coming. But what could she do? How else could they shore up their defenses more than they already had?

  Most of the tents in their little “neighborhood” were empty—most of the people were either helping in the deli kitchen or up on the roof as spotters. In the last few hours Jo had asked for three more volunteers up on the roof.

  Kate thought about going to the kitchen to help, but really just to talk to Max, something to help ease her anxiety. But Max was impossible to talk to when he was working; he poured every bit of his energy and focus into his tasks. Maybe it was his way of coping these days, his way of escaping for a few hours.

  She passed by Neal’s tent. The flaps were open and he was lying down inside.

  “Kate,” he said.

  She stopped and kneeled down outside the tent. Even from outside the tent, and even with fresh bandages around his head, she could smell the rot coming from him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping. I’ve slept enough the last few days. Can’t sleep anymore.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Pretty good.”

  She knew it was a lie. Neal was dying. She knew it. April knew it. Jo knew it. She supposed that Neal realized it by now.

  “Neal . . . I just wanted to say again that I’m sorry Petra went crazy about your bandages. All three of us, really. I’m sorry we suspected you.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.”

  Yes, paranoia was a new way of life now.

  “What did you used to do for a living?” Neal asked, still not coming outside the tent or even moving toward the open flaps. “You know, before all of this.”

  “I was a professor at a university.”

  “Really. What did you teach?”

  “Anthropology. The study of people from the past. Distant civilizations and cultures.” She paused for a moment, thinking he might ask her something else. But he didn’t, so she said: “But I was raised around here. Not too far from Perry, actually. What about you? What did you used to do?”

  “I was a construction worker. A lot of labor work, really. Jack of all trades, master of none.”

  “Rough work, I guess.”

  “Yeah. Sometimes. I did some work in Raleigh and Charlotte. Down in Charleston. In Georgia and Florida. All over the southeast. Did a lot of commercial construction: office buildings, apartment complexes, nursing homes, stores like this one. I used to do a lot of the high work. I used to run along those beams like a cat. A lot of the guys never knew how I did it. I was never afraid of heights.”

  “Wow,” Kate said, not sure what to say. She figured Neal was just remembering his past, wanting to tell someone a little about his life before it was gone.

  “It’s weird,” he said. “Because I was always kind of afraid of dying. You know, getting cancer or a heart attack or something. But I knew I was never going to fall. I don’t know how I knew, but I was so sure that falling wasn’t how I was going to die. I just never even thought about falling when I was up there. That’s what I used to tell the guys, that I just couldn’t fall. It just wasn’t going to happen. You had to really believe it.”

  Neal paused for just a moment.

  Kate waited silently—she knew he had more to say.

  “I keep trying that now. I keep telling myself that this isn’t the way I’m going to die, slowly eaten away by bacteria. I don’t know how to explain it, but I know I’m not going to die from this infection.”

  Kate begged to differ, but why argue with him about it now? Let him believe his fantasy in the little time he had left.

  “No,” he said, his voice a little lower now. “No, my death will be from something else.”

  Kate thought of that dark tid
al wave that was coming. She wondered if Neal was right; she wondered if he had truly seen another death coming for himself, a more abrupt and violent death, maybe an attack from the Dark Angels.

  Just then Jo came running up to Kate.

  Kate jumped up to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just got word from the spotters on the roof . . .” She was out-of-breath from her run to the tent city.

  “What? Is it Petra and the others? Are they back?”

  “No. It’s the Dark Angels. They’re out there beyond the parking lot. A lot of them.”

  CHAPTER 56

  Kate

  “What did the spotters say?” Kate asked Jo.

  “They said the Dark Angels are out there. At least twenty trucks and cars. Who knows how many Dark Angels are inside? There are some pickups with guys in the back. They’re picking off any rippers that get too close.”

  “What are they doing? Trying to get into the parking lot?”

  “No. They’re just waiting.”

  “You said it’s hard to get into the parking lot, right?”

  “Yeah. With vehicles because of the ditches and trees and the trucks we moved in front of the two entrances. But if they have something big enough, like a military vehicle or a dump truck, they could push our barricades out of the way.”

  That weight of dread was pressing down on Kate. She’d known something like this was coming. “This place . . . it will hold, won’t it?”

  Jo didn’t answer. Her walkie-talkie came to life and she grabbed it, pressing the button and barking into it: “Go.”

  “They’re still waiting in their vehicles,” Fernando said on the walkie-talkie. “Some of the trucks have their headlights on now.”

  “Okay. Let me know if they start coming towards us. Keep on standby and keep all of our shooters ready.”

  Kate figured the Dark Angels were listening to their conversation on the walkie-talkie’s channel, and she realized that Jo was playing up their defenses even though their best shooters were all gone on the run.

  Jo clipped the walkie-talkie back to her belt. “At least this might be good news. It might be why Lance and the others haven’t come back yet. Maybe they saw the Dark Angels on their way here. They might be out there, either waiting or preparing to attack them from behind.”

  “Yeah,” Kate said, “but wouldn’t they have contacted you to warn you?”

  Jo didn’t answer, her hopes suddenly crushed.

  “You said the Dark Angels are just out there waiting,” Kate said to change the subject.

  Jo nodded.

  “Waiting for what?”

  She shrugged.

  “Maybe they know those guys went on a run this morning and they’re waiting for them to come back, to catch them before they get to the parking lot.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But if Lance sees that, he won’t take a chance on coming to the store. He won’t jeopardize this place.”

  “Jo, come in,” Fernando’s voice squawked from the walkie-talkie.

  Jo picked up. “What’s going on?”

  “Some of the Dark Angels are walking into the parking lot from the vehicles.”

  “How many?”

  “Only a few . . .”

  Jo waited.

  “Oh God,” Fernando whispered.

  “What is it?”

  “I can see them with the binoculars,” Fernando said. “It’s two Dark Angels and three hostages.”

  Kate’s heart skipped a beat. She heard a noise behind her and turned around. Brooke was at the front of Jeff’s tent a few feet away.

  “What are you doing?” Kate asked Brooke as she rushed over to her. “I told you to stop going through Jeff’s stuff.” She couldn’t deal with this right now—there was too much going on.

  Brooke stared at Kate with wide eyes.

  “What are you looking for, Brooke? That music box?”

  “It’s gone,” Brooke whispered.

  “You need to stay out of Jeff’s tent.”

  “There’s something bad in that box,” Brooke whispered.

  Kate froze. “What are you talking about? Did you see what was inside? Did you open it?”

  Brooke shook her head no.

  “How do you know? Did you see it in your dreams?”

  She nodded.

  Jo rushed over. “I need to get up on the roof. The Dark Angels are coming and they’ve got three hostages.”

  “Petra?”

  “No. Fernando said it’s Lance, Crystal, and Dale.”

  “Oh God.”

  Jo turned to leave.

  “Jo, wait.”

  She turned back around, impatient.

  “Where’s Jeff?”

  For just a second it looked like Jo couldn’t understand what Kate had just asked her. “Jeff?”

  “Yeah. He’s not in his tent. Is he up on the roof?”

  “No. He . . . he said he was sick. April checked him out, just told him to rest.”

  “He’s not in his tent.”

  “Maybe he went to help in the kitchen.” She shook her head like she didn’t understand what Jeff had to do with anything, how anything could possibly be more important than what was happening outside. And then she was gone, hurrying for the ladder attached to the scissor lift that led up to the skylight.

  Kate turned back to Brooke, kneeling down in front of her. “Do you know what’s in that box Jeff had?”

  Brooke shrugged. “Something bad.”

  “Did you draw a picture of it?”

  Brooke shook her head no.

  Kate thought about asking Brooke to draw what she’d seen in her dreams, but for some reason she didn’t think she had enough time for that. She realized that Petra had been right about the mole; she had just suspected the wrong person. It hadn’t been Neal—it had been Jeff.

  “Do you know where Jeff is?” Kate asked. “Did you see where he went?”

  Brooke pointed to the double doors across the room that led to the offices and the loading bay.

  CHAPTER 57

  Jo

  Jo stayed low as she walked across the roof to the edge where Fernando and Tina waited; they were between two of the mannequins hidden under tarps with rifle barrels pointing out. The Dark Angels hadn’t fired any weapons so far, most of them still remaining with their vehicles beyond the parking lot.

  “Here,” Fernando said when Jo got to him, handing her a pair of binoculars.

  The day was fading fast, the air much colder, the western horizon a blaze of yellows, oranges, and reds, blending into purples and deep blues, the first visible stars twinkling. Jo crouched down behind the concrete knee-wall that ran the perimeter of the roof; it made a nice shield—not impenetrable, but something was better than nothing, and they could rest their arms on the top of the wall to shoot. She adjusted the binoculars, panning them slowly until she saw the two approaching Dark Angels with their three hostages.

  Even in the fading light Jo could tell that Fernando had been right about who the hostages were: Lance, Crystal, and Dale. Where were the others? Were some of them dead? Were the rest caught and held in one of the trucks or at another location, being tortured for information? Had some of them, or any of them, gotten away?

  The Dark Angels had rifles slung over their shoulders and pistols holstered on their hips. One had a powerful flashlight and the other had a battery-powered lantern to provide enough light to see. One of the Dark Angels, the one to the right, also had a bullhorn in one hand.

  The hostages’ hands were bound behind their backs. They were gagged with rags stuffed in their mouths and tied around their heads. Jo saw through the binoculars that the three of them appeared to be uninjured, but they looked miserable. They were forced to walk to the middle of the parking lot in front of the store, about fifty yards from the entrance, and then they all stopped.

  Jo waited for the Dark Angel with the bullhorn to speak, but the two of them just stood there, the plumes of their breath visible in the glow of their flashlight an
d lantern.

  “What are they waiting for?” Fernando asked.

  Jo didn’t know the answer, but she would wait too.

  Finally, the Dark Angel raised the bullhorn to his mouth and yelled into it. “We’ve got your people!”

  Tina handed Jo the megaphone they had on the roof. “Where are the rest of them?” Jo shouted back.

  “They’re safe for now.”

  Jo raised the binoculars back up to her eyes. Lance shook his head no vigorously, his eyes wide as he grunted into his gag, trying to say something.

  The other Dark Angel slammed the butt of his rifle into the small of Lance’s back. Lance staggered from the blow, nearly dropping down to his knees.

  “They’re lying,” Fernando said as he watched through his own pair of binoculars. “They don’t have the others. That’s what Lance was trying to tell us.”

  That could mean that the others were all dead, Jo thought. And she knew Fernando was thinking the same thing.

  Jo brought the megaphone up to her mouth. “You hit him again like that and we won’t have any kind of a deal.”

  In the distance the screeches and calls of the rippers sounded. The sounds of their voices yelling through the bullhorns were bringing them toward the store.

  “You’ll deal,” the Dark Angel said. “If you want to keep these three alive, you’ll deal. We’ve treated them well. So far. The rest is up to you.”

  “Show me the others,” Jo told him. “Bring Petra and Zak out. Tyrone and Tamara, too.”

  “You’ll get them all when we reach a deal,” the Dark Angel said.

  “What do you want?” Jo asked. But it was a silly question; she knew what they wanted—the store and everything inside.

  “You know what we want. All of you out. You’ve got a few minutes to decide. Or we kill these three right in front of you. Then we bring out the next two. And then the next two.”

  “He’s bluffing,” Fernando said. “They don’t have the other ones.”

  Jo lowered the bullhorn and sat down with her back to the wall. She couldn’t bring everyone out of the store. They would all be killed. She couldn’t trade everyone’s lives in the store for the three out there. If she’d been in their place, she wouldn’t want everyone else sacrificing themselves for her.