Haunted (State v. Sefore) (26 page)

“Make sure Maddison doesn’t try to sneak away for any reason?” The young man smirked.

Noah bit back a smile despite his fear. “I think she’s going to get antsy once you get there. I don’t want her making any impulsive decisions. Even leaving the house could be dangerous.”

“We’ll take care of her.” Jakob locked eyes with him. “Whether she wants us to or not. I know how important this is.”

Noah sucked in a deep breath and lowered his voice. “If anything happens—”

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

“This group isn’t going to line up to die. I’m afraid it’ll be more of a fight than we’d like to believe. I know I’ll be a target, so if anything happens to me, I need you to keep her safe. I don’t think you’ll need extra help, but if you do, you can call Daniel. I know you don’t like him, but I’ll make him swear to look out for you.”

“I promise.” Jakob gave him a small shove to the side. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I get to go convince Josh to get in Taylor’s car.”

Noah smiled. “Where’s Maddison?”

“Avoiding us, I think.” Jakob nodded his head toward the stairs.

Taking the steps two at a time, Noah called out for her. She didn’t answer, and when he came around the corner into her doorway, he could tell she’d been crying. He slid a hand out to take hers and pulled her close. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

“If you thought so, you wouldn’t have had that little discussion with Jakob.” Her arms wound around his waist.

“I’m just being careful.” Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head.

“Are you sure you can’t go with us?”

Her quiet plea twisted his insides, and he laid his forehead against hers. “No. But as soon as I can, I’ll come get you. The minute I can be there, I will.”

“I hate this.”

“Me too.” He ran a hand through her hair.

For several minutes, they didn’t speak. When she did, her voice sounded fortified. “I have a condition.”

He leaned back. “For what?”

“For me to leave. You have to agree to it, or I don’t go.”

“Maddison …” His eyes slid shut, anticipating the fight he’d been dreading all morning.

“Hear me out. I’ve agreed to leave town because you think it’s necessary, and it’ll help you stay sane. That’s what you said.” She leaned back, and he opened his eyes to find her determined gaze staring right into his. “If I am going to stay sane while you’re here fighting, I need to know you aren’t going to try to save everyone but yourself. That you won’t choose to be a martyr. I want you to fight and be careful—no heroics, I mean it.”

He sighed, not wanting to lie to her but unsure he could promise to save his own skin over someone else’s. He wasn’t worth that much.

She poked a finger against his chest. “I’m serious. If I think you’re going to go into ‘save the world’ mode, I can’t leave. Because you will get yourself killed. Do your job, protect your brother, but remember you have to come back to me.”

He didn’t want to deny her.
Please let me be able to keep my word
. “I’ll be careful.”

An eyebrow arched. “Really?”

“I promise.”

She dropped her head back to his chest. “If you aren’t, you’ll have to answer to me.” The softness of her words voided their threat.

“I would expect nothing less.” All he wanted, all he needed, was to come back to her. Clutching her tight, he kissed her. She tried to pull him even closer, their lips frantically communicating the words they had to leave unspoken. When he pulled back, tears stained her face.

He brushed them away with his thumbs. Now or never. “I love you.”

She reached up and kissed him, the violence from before exchanged for a slow tenderness. “I love you too.”

Like cool water to his parched soul, her words spilled into him. Unbelievable. He leaned his forehead against hers. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“Me too.” Her lips trembled.

His vidcom buzzed an alarm. Time to get them on the road. He stepped away and pulled her down the steps. He put an unregistered vidcom in her hands. “Don’t turn your vidcoms on unless you need to verify your status for a liquidator, okay? I updated everyone’s record this morning. No one should stop you or report you missing. If you need to contact me, use this instead. You can use it to call Sophie and Olivia’s parents as well.”

She nodded. “Okay, I’ll tell them to call their parents about the time school lets out. The cover story is that we have a killer group project due in science on Sunday, and we need every spare hour to work on finishing it. None of us plan to leave my house until it’s perfect. We had to do something similar last year, so Sophie’s parents won’t have a problem with it. And since Olivia’s parents won’t be able to see her face, she should be able to pull it off as well.”

Let her be right. If anything went wrong on her end …

Noah squeezed her hand. “Call once you get out of town. And when you hit MA-8, and then MA-12, and once you’re all in the house. Okay?”

“That’s a lot of calls, mister.”

“Okay?” They exited the house, and he paused while she secured the front door behind them.

“I promise.”

Taylor’s car idled in the street, waiting for Maddison to pull out. They reached her car, and as she opened the door, she turned to face him.

“I’ll see you first thing Friday morning.”

“As soon as I can make it. I’ll steal you away and introduce you to my hometown. Just you and me.”

“I’m holding you to that, Seforé.” She smiled even as her eyes filled with tears.

“You do that, Maddison James. You do just that.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

I
t was 2:00
p.m. Four hours after the Liquidation Updates aired, and they waited for the first group of resistance members to arrive. Several liquidators, including Brandon, guarded the temporary armory Noah and Daniel had constructed to house the various guns, grenades, and small bombs they’d found in the largest warehouse. They’d positioned other liquidators around the perimeter and in each of the three smaller buildings, including the old terminal. He and Daniel leaned against the left wall of the main warehouse, alert for any movement near the gate on the road.

His thumb spun the dense metal that looped again around his third finger. The ring slid back and forth, feeling heavier for each day it’d been off his hand. He’d grown too used to being without it. It felt as restrictive as it had the day his commander had handed it over to him at the Academy. He wished for gloves and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Another cold blast of wind raced between the buildings, and he pulled the collar up around the back of his neck. Though the sun shone in a cloudless sky, it had no effect on the below freezing temperatures. He shifted back and forth on his feet, trying to keep his blood moving and his body temperature up. Beside him, Daniel stood still and quiet, like a marble statue. The cold seemed to have no effect on him.

“Should be any time,” he muttered to Noah.

This time the icy blast ran through Noah’s veins. The air felt heavy and ominous. A dark voice inside him whispered. He tucked his head into his chest and gave himself the luxury of one moment to think about Maddison.

It didn’t work. The dread remained. He shifted again, almost pacing.

Daniel shot a lazy glance over his shoulder at Noah. “Would you pull it together?”

“Daniel, if things go wrong today, if anything happens—”

Daniel faced him, a threatening look on his face. “Shut up. Nothing’s going to go wrong if you keep your head on straight. I’m not going to make plans with you. You’re going to calm down and do your job. Got it?”

Across the train tracks came the faint sound of a gate creaking open. It had begun.

*

Laying the older man down beside the other dead, Noah headed for the door. He didn’t want to stay a second longer than necessary. As he exited behind another liquidator, the sun slipped behind the trees. He glanced down at his watch. Five thirty had come and gone. The resistance’s leadership was taken care of, their children already en route to government foster homes. Five hundred members had arrived in spurts over the last three hours, carrying belongings and dragging their children with them. The ninety children were now ensconced in the largest warehouse and under guard by twenty-five liquidators. Terrified but at least protected from watching their parents be killed in front of their eyes.

The adults lay in the smallest of the warehouses. No longer a threat.

They still had to account for the remaining thousand. And it would be dark within the hour.

Something whistled by his ear, and he dropped on instinct, the hard earth exploding beside him. Other liquidators turned in the direction of the shot, their hands already reaching for the weapons strapped to their sides. Rolling out of the way and back against the wall of the warehouse, Noah pulled his own gun from the holster and surveyed the perimeter.

Every inch moved. Seconds later, heavily armed men and women rushed the fence and gates, rapid firing into the compound. Noah’s gut dropped. They had been warned. They were prepared. And more than a thousand approached.

New odds. Each of the seventy-five liquidators would have to take down approximately eighteen people for them to succeed. With night falling fast, it would become hard to distinguish between friend and foe.

Rushing forward, Noah took shots at the men as they landed on their feet beside the fence. Several went down, but he had to keep moving to keep away from their returning fire. The compound rang out with gunfire, shouts, and agonized cries. Two more shots and a man rushing toward him went down at his feet.

He moved right again, keeping his back to the main warehouse where no threats would be probable. About fifty yards away, he caught a glimpse of Brandon down on one knee, machine gun firing in the direction of the front gate. A bullet hit the warehouse wall to Noah’s left, and he refocused, taking another shot before finding cover to reload the clip.

Before he could finish, a young man ran around the corner, screaming and red-faced. Noticing Noah, he plowed forward, and Noah braced for the hit. The man knocked him over. Noah threw him off and to the right, dodging the gun swung at his face. Noah disarmed him, throwing the gun into the growing fray. They grappled back and forth, punches thrown, blocked, and landed, before Noah got the upper hand. A moment later, the man lay dead on the ground.

He jumped back to his feet. The sound of guns firing decreased, and war cries filled in the difference. To his left, several liquidators went down, blood spurting from their chests. The resistance members who shot them were dispatched moments later. Bodies littered the ground. Pairs circled each other in gory boxing stances.

The smell of smoke and blood filled the air.

Behind him, boots rushed forward, and he turned in time to miss the knife intended for his back. He grabbed his attacker’s wrists and twisted. The knife dropped to the ground. He kicked it away even as she landed a foot on his instep. He bit back a groan and pushed her away, but she charged, spewing curses. He pinned her arms to her sides, dodging the head butt she attempted and shifting to hold her arms with one hand while the other snapped her neck.

A searing pain tore through his right arm. Warm blood poured out of the bullet hole. Dropping to his knee, he turned and looked for the shooter. Seconds later, a body collided with his. The heavy man pinned him to the ground, pulled back, and landed a powerful right cross to Noah’s jaw before he upset the man’s balance and regained some ground. He dodged and punched, feeling the muscles in his right tricep burn with each movement. The blood loss clouded his head. The angry man let out a yell and landed another punch to his jaw before grabbing his throat and squeezing. He used every wrestling move he could recall from secondary school, but nothing worked. As his eyesight began to diminish, the man dropped on top of him, dead weight.

Noah rolled out from under the man and jumped up. Daniel stood yards away, gun still pointed in their direction.

Noah nodded a thank you and took a moment to scan the scene. The numbers on both sides had thinned. Bodies covered the ground so only patches of dirt showed through. The wind blew a cold blast in his direction. And then he smelled it.

He turned toward the main warehouse. Flames licked up the side and front of the building, smoke growing and billowing up in the wind. He shot a panicked look in Daniel’s direction and saw a similar look on his brother’s face. Their eyes connected for a moment.

The children.

He took off running, not heeding the angry voice of his brother yelling after him. The wind drowned out Daniel’s words anyway.

Shielding his face, Noah ran through the flames into the open doorway and dropped to his knees to escape the black smoke. He yanked his t-shirt over his mouth. The heat singed his hair and scorched the leather jacket. His eyes shot down to his sleeve. It’d caught fire during his entrance. As he jerked the coat off, the signet ring slipped away as well. He slapped away the embers glowing on his sweater before crawling toward the children.

As he stumbled over several dead bodies, it occurred to him. No liquidators had come rushing out from the flaming building. He heard no faint cries or smoke-induced coughing. Quickening his pace, he reached the corner where the children should be.

It was empty.

A cold draft blew across his face, and he made out the silhouette of the open back door. They’d escaped. Or been freed by someone. The flames raced toward the new supply of oxygen.

He had to get out.

He stood and ran the final seven steps. The heat burned through his clothing. He cleared the door and continued running away from the building. Not a soul moved on this side of the compound.

The world exploded.

He was thrown into the air, and chunks of concrete and debris flew by him. The sky lit from the ground up as the building erupted in flames and shrapnel. As quickly as the blast had picked him up, it threw him down, all his weight on his right leg. Bones shattered upon impact. Pain unlike any other raced through his body. He couldn’t breathe. His head thudded against the packed dirt. A heavy, hot weight landed on his left shoulder, and he cried out as fire seared his skin and muscle. He rolled out from under the slab of wood and concrete, and the pain deepened before deadening—nerve damage.

The blaze still raged, claiming more ground, and his eyes darted around for a refuge. A storage building stood several yards away, unscathed. Pulling himself on his right arm, he ignored the blood seeping from it and groaned with each inch gained. He’d crossed half the distance when he froze. He hadn’t heard himself groan
.
He paused and listened. Nothing. Not even a faint throbbing.

The heat hit him again, and he gritted his teeth.
Keep moving.
Dirt and grass grated against the cuts and burns on his arms and hands as he dragged himself forward. If he could make it the last foot and get inside the storage building, it would be cool and dark there. That would ease the searing burns and pain radiating through his body.

Once he’d pulled himself into the building, he collapsed and shifted to find a position that didn’t hurt. No such position existed. His useless right leg throbbed. The edges of his left shoulder and forearm burned, though the center seemed numb. His right arm seeped blood from around the bullet wedged in his arm. His ribs ached with every moment and screamed with each cough and sputter from his smoke-filled lungs.

As he lay still, the pain intensified, making it hard to think. The edges of his sight dimmed. But if he lost consciousness, he wouldn’t wake up again.

He fought to stay awake, to think of Maddison, of introducing her to his hometown, of growing old with her. The heaviness dragged him under still. He wouldn’t be able to keep his promises to her.

Another vow broken. Another wrong to add to the never-ending list. He wished for more time. He wasn’t ready to meet God.

He needed another chance—to earn forgiveness. In that moment, he realized he needed to make peace with God more than he wanted to see her face one last time.
Would You even hear me?
The idea of staying silent sent desperation racing through him. He had to try.

As the darkness began to encroach, he choked out the few words his mind provided. “God, I’m sorry. Please help me.”

Too inadequate but all he could muster.

The fuzziness receded, and he felt something digging into his left thigh. He traced the edges of a box in his cargo pocket. The silver box! Ignoring the pain, he rolled onto his right side, plunging his hand into the pocket and pulling out the box. He fumbled the latch open with one hand, grasped a miraculously undamaged vial, and jammed it into the syringe as the darkness began to overtake him. He drove the needle into his thigh as the pain crescendoed, and consciousness slipped away.