Break of the Six (The Preston Six Book 4) (7 page)

Poly’s hand rubbed his back.

The doorbell dinged. “What the hell?”

Joey didn’t need to look up to recognize Lucas’s voice.

“What was in the room?” Poly asked gently.

New fear washed over him and he sprung to his feet and ran to the door. He glimpsed the woman’s dead foot and slammed the door closed. None of his friends needed to see what was in there. He no longer felt bad about shooting Nate. Now, he just wanted to shock his body back to life so he could kill him again. These nasty men needed to suffer for what they’d done. Joey paced in front of the door, feeling as if he might explode with anger.

Was this the new world? This was worse than any Ryjack or Vanar invasion. This was in his own backyard, a few towns over from Preston. This shouldn’t be possible. Where were the cops? He thought of the Preston cop robbing them and it stung to think of a new reality on earth. Was man destined to become monsters? How could he let Poly live in such a world?

“I think I can get the pump going.” Julie walked next to the counter, averting her eyes from the two bodies on the ground.

“What’s up with that room?” Lucas asked, watching Joey pace back and forth.

“Don’t ever ask me that again,” Joey bit out, rougher than he wanted, but he was filled with such anger, anything he said would be rough.

Poly winced at his tone and they all averted their attention elsewhere. Good, he didn’t want them seeing him, he didn’t want to see himself. He wanted to jump into a body and mind that hadn’t seen the things he’d seen, or done the things he’d done; anything to wash away the memories. What a cruel thing memory was, keeping the worst in high definition.

Julie got the pump going and they filled the car up. Poly and Joey took the back seat, while Julie drove and Lucas sat front passenger. Joey hadn’t said a word since his explosion at Lucas. Only a few words had been shared between any of them.

“You two should get some sleep so you can take over in the morning,” Julie said.

Poly touched his hand and he jerked it back. Quickly realizing his mistake, he reached for her hand and took it in his. It felt good to have her touch. He realized he hadn’t thanked her yet. “Thank you for saving me back there.”

“I couldn’t let that disgusting man touch you.”

Joey sighed and thought about the place they were going. It was heavily populated. If the outskirts and back roads hid these kinds of horrors, what would a big city entail? He only hoped they could get to Samantha before she found herself stuffed in the back storage room of a gas station. “Can we go faster?”

SAMANTHA SKIPPED PAST THE OFFICES on her floor. She didn’t care about what the others thought anymore. Nothing mattered at the moment, because she had Zach. The kiss they’d shared, the feeling of his body against hers, lifted her thoughts above the hate.

She bounced to her desk and plopped on her black leather chair. Pushing her feet against the floor, she glided to the window. She imagined what it had looked like from up there. Two people running across the grass field below, finding each other in an embrace. It was better than any book she’d ever read, and she got to live it. Once they cured the world, they could get on with their lives together.

Her phone dinged. It was Zach.

Zach: Missing you.

Samantha: When are you coming back?

Zach: A few days, it’s bad out here. Stay there.

Samantha: Be careful.

Zach: I will.

She kicked off the window and wheeled her chair back to her desk, just as Ashley tapped on the glass door. She motioned for her to come in.

“Good morning, Miss Samantha.” She wore a big frown.

Samantha wanted to smack it from her face. “Good morning, Ashley.”

“I’ve got the itinerary set up for LA today.”

That’s what the frown was about. Ashley found out they wouldn’t be saving her home town on the outskirts of San Francisco. Samantha didn’t like choosing a city, but saving one of the biggest cities in the world seemed a good start. She could handle the domestic end of things while Zach talked to world leaders about international distribution. “Thank you, Ashley.”

Ashley tapped on the desk and loitered.

Samantha huffed, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Go on, get it out.” She probably wanted to gossip about her kiss or something.

“I know you and Zach have a thing.. . .”
Here we go
, Samantha sighed. “But don’t you think he took on a bit much here? If we can get this cure distributed to the government, they could help us produce it. They have the man power to see it carried out. I mean the whole world is at stake here.”

Samantha leaned forward and put her elbows on her wooden desk. Things were bad, but they were going to save them. They were going to save everyone. She would get to be the hero this time, not some cowered weakling standing behind five mighty warriors.

Narrowing her eyes, she looked at Ashley. This wasn’t like her at all. She stood from her desk. Something was behind those words, or more importantly, someone. “Have you been contacted?”

Ashley rushed closer and placed her hand on the desk. “They want us to turn over all the data we have on the cure—they can help us. They said they can cure everyone, they just want to help.”

“Who’s
they
?” Samantha spit out. She didn’t want someone to swoop in and steal what Zach had created.

“The president himself, Samantha, they called me—
he
called me. But I can’t do it on my own, I need someone with the clearance to get through the blocks.”

“Someone like me?”

“I know we haven’t been the best of friends, but this is about more than just us. This is about the world. Just look at the news, listen to the radio . . . the Cough is destroying us and we have a cure. We have a cure that we can’t make fast enough. We need help.”

Samantha felt her painted nails digging into her palm. Ever since she’d made the announcement in Preston, the whole world wanted to take it from them. How foolish could Ashley be? “Did you see the president? Did he give you proof?”

A hint of doubt hit Ashley’s face. “No, but I know his voice.”

“A voice can be copied.” There had to be more to it. “What did they offer you?”

“Nothing, I just don’t think we should be holding this cure back from the world when they so desperately need it. My own mother is in stage three, Samantha.”

She took out her phone. It didn’t have a normal operating system. Actually, nothing was normal about it. Zach had given it to her on the first day she started work, confiscating her old phone for security reasons. It worked like any other phone, but there were a few buttons on it in case of situations like this one with Ashley. It gave her no pleasure to press it, she actually felt sad for Ashley.

“The cure is being created as fast as anyone can make it. Zach has purchased almost every vaccine factory in the country. How do you think the ‘president,’” she used air quotes and rolled her eyes, “can do more than us?”

“It’s not just that. Zach’s doing stuff, Samantha, he keeps it from you,” she whispered and stepped closer. “There are rules with you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t find it weird we all call you Miss Samantha? And that’s just the start of it. We aren’t allowed to be friendly with you. He tells all the women on this floor how to treat you.”

Samantha shook her head in disbelief. It was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard and she’d hung around Lucas for most of her life. Why would Zach tell people to be mean to her? Why would he have them shove their smug noses in the air when she walked by? Samantha had learned, if things don’t make sense, they’re probably a lie.

She felt washed in lies growing up, but now she felt it anew, and Ashley was trying to steal it from her. She had to be jealous. She’s the one who said all the women wanted Zach; she was probably one of them. “I don’t believe you.”

Ashley laughed. “You’re drowning in infatuation,
Miss
Samantha. You can’t see straight, you can’t see what’s in front of you.”

Samantha stood from her desk and pointed at Ashley. “You don’t know anything.”

“This isn’t high school anymore,
Miss
Samantha. You’re playing with people’s lives now, and it has to stop. We have to stop it. Now please, help me get the President of the United States that cure.”

The door flung open. Five men, dressed in all black, flooded into the room and grabbed Ashley. Her face went pale and she flung around in their tight grip. “Samantha, no. Don’t do this. This isn’t right. You’re going to kill us all!”

“
Wrong
,” Samantha screamed. “All of this . . . simply because we didn’t choose your city? No, you are the one who wanted to kill people. Your hometown has ten thousand people and today I’m going to save ten million.”

“He’s not who you think he is. He’s lying to you. He’s lying to all of us!” The guards pulled her flailing body out the door. She screamed more things as they hauled her beyond visibility.

Samantha, out of breath, placed both palms on the warm wood desk and leaned on it for support. Her heart raced and the anger slowly evaporated. Ashley planted a seed deep inside, and she wanted to get it out. She wanted to smack her for putting it there, a hint of doubt. Sure, some of the stuff Zach did didn’t make sense, but the man had a greater plan, he wanted to change the world.

Her phone dinged with a text. She brought it up and saw Zach’s text of concern. She replied with a quick version of what Ashley had done.

Samantha: Where are you?

Zach: About to meet with a prime minister of some tiny country in Eastern Europe.

Samantha: Are they signing the agreement?

Zach: I will guarantee it. I can hear his cough through the door.

Samantha: Good luck. I miss you.

Zach: Miss you too. I’ll be home soon.

Samantha lay the phone on her lap and looked out the window. She almost wanted to be hopping around the globe with Zach, gathering signatures from the world’s leaders. She couldn’t imagine any country not signing the agreement, but Zach said he hadn’t gotten a single response from the United States yet.

Another tap on her door.

Marge stood on the other side of the glass. She was an assistant to the human resources manager. Samantha shoved off the window and hoped for a better second conversation of the day. She motioned for her to come in.

Marge opened the door and fidgeted with her hands, looking nervous.

“Yes?” Samantha raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve been assigned as your new assistant, Miss Samantha.” Marge seemed to want to be anything but that.

Samantha sighed. She would have to deal because she needed the help. She had an entire city to save, and then the world.

“THIS IS THE THIRD HOUSE today,” Trip said putting a finger through the bullet hole in the door. “I bet she didn’t even see it coming.”

Hank didn’t want to look at the dead body just past the front door. He’d seen enough death and didn’t need any more ghosts. His dad lingered at the door, looking in and then out.

“They’re being shot as they answer the door,” Trip said.

“We’ll get these guys,” Hank said.

“We better get to Gretchen’s. Their trail is leading that way.”

They got into Trip’s truck and headed down the dirt road. Hank eyed the road and the surrounding fields. He picked up the radio and pushed the talk button. “Rick, how’s it going on your side?”

“It’s quiet, over.”

“All right, we’re heading to Gretchen’s, over.”

“Ten-four, over.”

Hank wanted to call Joey and the rest of his friends, but the power was out and cell coverage was down. He sensed they were okay, but it would have been nice if he knew for sure. Just thinking of Samantha being near Marcus sent chills down his spine.

Gretchen’s house appeared untouched as they pulled into the driveway. They still rushed to the door, looking for that signature bullet hole, but it was clear. Not sure if Gretchen would even get up to answer, Trip took out a key to unlock the front door.

“Gretchen,” Trip called out as he entered the house, “it’s Trip and Hank.”

“Back here,” she answered.

They walked past the family room, straight to the back bedroom. It used to be the guest room, but Gretchen had moved into it because stairs had become too difficult.

“Who’s looking better today?” Trip said, taking a seat at the end of the bed.

Gretchen sat up and coughed into a handkerchief. “I’m feeling better. I was at death’s door for a minute there. I thought I heard David calling to me.” She laughed and then coughed again.

“Say, there’s some men roaming around Preston, nasty men, killing people in a search for the cure.” Trip looked at Hank and then back to Gretchen.

“Well, if I had some, I’d give it to them. Did you see what’s going on out there? Pure chaos.”

Hank nodded and thought about his recent journey through town. Ever since the world wide announcement that Preston had been given the cure, an onslaught of people had come into the town in search of it. At first, it was mostly friendly interactions with people full of hope, and when they realized there wasn’t a cure for them, they left. Those were the good people. The bad and skeptical people stayed and demanded they deliver the cure, but those weren’t even the worst.

The worst were the roaming bands of opportunists. They wanted the cure because they knew how valuable it would be to the right people. Or maybe they already worked for the right people. Either way, they were on a mission, methodically tearing apart an already fragile Preston.

“Why don’t you get some sleep? We’ll watch over the house for a bit—”

A knock sounded on the front door. Trip glanced at Hank and nodded his head. Hank left the bedroom and darted to the left side of the family room. He tried to see any shadows behind the pulled curtains but none appeared.

Trip flanked to the right and eased his way to the side of the door. He brought his handgun up to his hip. “Who is it?”

No answer.

Hank got closer to the front door and held out his gun, waiting for the signal from his dad.

“Anyone out there?” Trip asked.

“Sir, we are here to turn back on the power. We just need you to sign this release paper first.”

“That would be the best thing ever. Let me unlock the door. Just a sec.” Trip pulled an umbrella off the coat rack and poked the door handle, rattling it.

A gunshot blasted a hole through the door and struck the umbrella, sending it to the floor. Hank jumped back and nearly dropped his gun. Trip pulled out a fake groan of agony and pushed over the coat rack. It crashed to the floor. He held his gun out, waiting for the door to open. The man on the other side kicked at the door and then rattled the handle. He kicked again, but the door held.

“Need a breach here.”

“Hank,” Trip whispered, “get back and shoot the first person who comes through the door.”

“What?” Hank heard him but couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to kill these people. The gun shook in his hands.

They slammed something into the door and the jamb cracked.

“Wait!” Hank said.

“Hold,” a man ordered.

“Dang it, Hank,” Trip muttered.

“Listen, we don’t want any trouble with you guys,” Hank said. “We can end this amicably. You guys just leave Preston and we won’t follow. No harm, no foul.”

They laughed outside. “You give us your cures and we’ll be on our merry way.” They laughed again.

“If I give it to you, you’ll leave Preston for good?”

“And never look back.”

“Fine, but don’t shoot. It’s kept in a glass vial. One wrong move and I’ll break it.”

Silence, and the man’s whimsy was gone. “You have it?”

“Yes.” Hank opened his jacket and pulled out the vial. Poly gave them a few extra to make sure they had backups.

“Open this door and I promise, we won’t hurt you.”

“Don’t do it, Hank,” Trip said.

Hank walked to the front door, daylight streaked through the hole they made with the intention of killing his dad. He turned the handle and swung it open.

Four men stood on the front patio. Each held a gun and they were all pointed at Hank. He looked at them and their clean clothes and tucked in shirts. And the lead man with a mustache had an interesting pin on his shirt, a pair of triangles with a circle between them. It seemed out of place among all the earth tones he wore.

The man with a mustache extended his hand and held his other one back, holding his gun. “Okay, just hand it over, real slow.”

Hank reached out the door and the man plucked it from Hank’s grasp. The man gazed at it and held it to the sun. He smiled and showed the rest of the group. Hank slammed the door and locked it.

“Woo! Hell yeah. You got any more?” The man asked through the door.

“That’s all of it,” Hank said and started backing away from the door.

“Oh no, this is not the last of it. Open the door and give us the rest. We’ve found some in almost every house we’ve visited.”

“Yeah, we’ve seen how you treat the hosts.”

“Boy, you best open this door or it’s going to get ugly.”

Hank opened his mouth to talk again when Trip jumped across the room and tackled him to the ground. He pulled Hank along, crawling toward Gretchen.

“Are they—” Gretchen started to say, but Trip pulled her off the bed and she fell to the floor with a thud. “What the hell?”

Gunfire crashed through the front door and through the walls. The front door splintered and then shattered from a blunt kick. The man with the mustache marched into the front room. Trip rolled over and fired at the man, striking him in the chest. As he stumbled to the side, the man behind him shot at Trip, striking the floor right at their feet.

Hank breathed hard and his pulse pounded in his ears, quieting the commands from the people entering the house. They screamed at them and fired several more shots. Hank steadied his gun and thought about grinners. He struck the first man in the head and then the other one behind him.

They fell to the floor and the mustache man got back to his feet feeling his chest. He tossed an object to the floor and it landed next to Gretchen’s bedroom door. Hank lunged away from it and got behind the bed.

The object exploded in a bright light and thunderous sound. The concussion pulsed through Hank and he struggled for his next breath.
This is it. This is when they kill us.

He pulled himself up to get a line of sight over the bed. Mustache man stood over his dad and fired a shot into him. Hank screamed and fired, striking him in the neck and then several more shots to the head.

He searched for the fourth man, but he fled in their truck.

Hank jumped around the bed and next to his dad. “No, no, Dad! What do I do?”

Blood oozed from his gut and Trip blinked and held his hands. “I can’t see.” The flash grenade had been much closer to Trip and he’d taken the brunt of it.

Gretchen rolled over and pulled up Trip’s shirt. “You are such a fool. Why did you do that?”

“I had to protect you,” he said.

Hank felt the blood leave his face, seeing the bullet hole in his gut. “What do I do, Gretchen?” He moved his hands close to the wound and then Trip groaned. Hank pulled his hands back.

“Hospitals are full. I think you know what you need to do, Hank. Take him to Vanar.”

Grabbing the radio from Trip’s pocket, he called for help. “Trip’s been shot!” He stammered over the words and pressed the button again. “I need help, my dad’s been shot. We’re at Gretchen’s!”

“I’m coming right now,” Minter answered.

Trip coughed and looked at Hank. “Son, don’t worry about me. I’m ready for her, I’m ready to join her.”

“Don’t talk like that.” He glared at the dead guys on Gretchen’s family room floor—all this over being greedy and stupid. Trip was right, they should have shot them first. Then his dad wouldn’t be laying on the floor, bleeding out. Over the next few minutes, Gretchen and Hank formed a tourniquet with her first aid kit.

Minter ran into the house and slid to a stop next to Trip. He held a gun in one hand and glanced around.

“The last one ran off.”

Minter nodded. “Trip, you hear me?” He coughed and nodded his head. “I’m grabbing the quad out of Gretchen’s garage. We’ll be able to drive you right to the stone with it. I’ll be right back.”

Hank sat next to his dad and watched his rapid breathing. He heard a quad rev up and Minter drove it next to the front door. He ran into the house and looked to Hank. “Do you know the code for Harris?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Take your dad to the stone right now. It’s his only chance.”

Determined, Hank grabbed his dad with Minter’s help and sat him on the quad. His arms hung over the handle bars. Hank got up and sat behind him.

“Go, Hank, and don’t stop for nothing,” Minter said, and patted him on the back.

Hank pushed his thumb on the gas and steered the quad onto the dirt road, picking up speed; his dad slumped on the handlebars. “Hang in there, Dad. I’m getting help.” He glanced back to make sure no one was following him. Shifting into fifth gear, he passed Joey’s house. Not much further.