Salvation (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Late the next morning, Luna and Bishop took a leisurely walk over to the garage. Her lessons learned from the day before were still all mixed up in her head, and working on the car would help her clear her mind, if not sort it out.

She was also content with the fact that she was with Bishop, and that he was glad to have her here.

He didn’t complain when she lost track of time—he went back and forth, leaving her alone at points, bringing her food at others. She realized it was after midnight when she looked up from the transmission, found Bishop relaxing on the floor, reading another book.

He glanced over at her. “You were having fun.”

She didn’t deny it. “I’m ready to have a different kind of fun now,” she said instead and he was up in seconds.

“Works for me.” As he spoke the last word, it was almost obliterated by the start of a short series of loud beeps over the intercoms. Bishop went to the window, looked outside and she called, “What are those?”

She had to cover her ears against the shrillness of the next set of alarms. Bishop did the same. When there was a short break he told her, “Tear gas drill. Come on.”

The alarms started up again. Those first few must’ve only been warnings, because the next ones were worse—louder and sharper and they didn’t pause at all. They were painful and disorientating, and she’d only had to deal with it for a few moments outside as Bishop dragged her along behind him, using his body to cut through the crowds of screaming people. It was a nightmare. Finally, he picked her up and pretty much threw her over his shoulder until he got her down the stairs to a tunnel that wasn’t anywhere near his place—no, they’d only gone maybe twenty feet or so, but with the crowds it seemed like a longer distance.

He’d veered off from those crowds in order to access the tunnel. She heard people shouting behind her as she made her way down. He followed quickly, slammed the trap door shut above him and locked it. Looked down at her, asking, “Are you okay?”

“No,” she said, but she could barely hear her own voice. Her ears rung and she was seeing spots from the flashing lights.

He remained where he was, close to the trap door. After a few minutes, she felt better, enough to hear pounding on the ground above them. People were knocking, and every once in a while, Bishop would look into a peephole and then look away.

He’d locked them into a secret container that would keep them safe from the world. But...”Why don’t you let others down here?”

“Not supposed to,” he said. “Only certain people get access to these containers. There are codes.”

After a few minutes, the knocking went away, and she heard more screaming. “So some of those people will die because they don’t have a secret code and access to these tunnels?”

“People will get hurt, but the majority will be fine.” He didn’t seem shocked or dismayed, just grimly resigned. “That’s part of why you don’t see young kids on the compound. Keller doesn’t want them here. Anyone who comes in here does it at their own risk. You’ve seen it yourself. There’s a hell of a lot of pleasure to be found, but just as much pain as Keller defends his right to do what he wants.”

“I just can’t believe you’re okay with this.”

“What do you want, Luna? Want me to go up there and try to save everyone? It’s not going to happen. I learned that early on, but especially in the military. You’re my only priority now and I’m not fucking that up. Everything I’m doing here is to stay on an even keel with Keller for Defiance. For Mathias. But first and foremost, for you. So stop trying to act like you’re Mother Teresa on a mission and deal with the fact that this is a whole different world. You’re not going to change it. All you can do is survive it.”

His anger was palpable in the small space, and as pissed as she was about what Keller was doing, how he was playing all the people in his compound, Bishop was right. Spending time here was akin to being in a giant maze—all she had to do was keep moving forward until she found the exit.

“So wait—Keller does this? To his own people?”

“It’s a way to keep them managed. On their toes. Never able to really know what’s happening or what’s safe. It gives them the whole ‘party today because we might be dead tomorrow’ mentality.”

She heard the frightened yelling. Bishop pulled the trap door tight, then pulled another long deadbolt all the way across, sliding the heavy metal through the circles. Only then did he push a button that was now exposed.

The yelling she’d heard seconds before was gone, replaced by her stunned silence.

This shattered her, and she wasn’t sure why, exactly. Bishop had warned her that this was very much a lose-your-illusion type of thing. But she’d been seduced by how easy things were here, and how easy it was with Bishop.

She stared at him. “You’re not an illusion, are you?”

“Never was, babe. That’s why you’re here.”

That was true. As much as she hated him for forcing her to admit hard secrets, she needed him to do so.

He was so right for her, a gift in the middle of all this madness and darkness. “How often does this happen?”

“Third time since I’ve been here.”

“What was that button you pressed? A soundproofing thing?”

“Partly. It’s also to let Keller’s men know who’s safe.”

“Damn it.” She’d let herself be lulled into the excess and the seeming never-ending fun around this place. She’d acted as if nothing bad could touch her here, but in reality, the bad was everywhere.

“Luna, as bad as Keller is, there are guys out there who are worse. And those same guys want his position.”

“So that makes it all right?”

“You can’t think that no one challenges him. He’s like Defiance, constantly trying to hold his position.”

“You sound like you’re vying to be just like him.”

“Nothing wrong with power, Luna,” he told her. “Never was. The problem is when we’re seduced by it. Now your eyes are wide open. We’re on the same page.”

“And what are we going to do about it?”

“We’re going to survive. And get the hell back to Defiance.” With that, he took her hand in his and squeezed it tight.

After threading their way back through an intricate series of dark tunnels, passing other people speaking in hushed tones, they finally made their way back to Bishop’s tube. Once inside, he locked the door and pressed a series of codes into the alarm, again, presumably to let Keller’s PTB know they were safe.

“Luna, most of the people will be okay. It’s tear gas. The biggest problem is that everyone here’s out for themselves. It’s not like Defiance, where everyone helps everyone else,” he explained. “The first time this happened to me, they didn’t want me to go underground. It was a test. Those first alarms you heard? They hadn’t released any gas yet. You saw people scrambling for cover. Every man for himself.”

“What did you do when you were locked out?”

“I climbed a tree to wait it out,” he said.

“Climbed a tree?”

“Tear gas drops, not rises,” he explained.

She didn’t want to know anymore about what would happen up above. Not now. Not when she was helpless.

“It also prepares us in case of attack,” he said quietly, as if he hated bringing this up to her.

“I guess you’re intent on shattering any illusions I’d started to have about this place,” she said.

“I guess I am.”

“Who would be attacking the compound?”

“Sometimes, it’s other mafia families. Several of the bigger ones—the Italian and Irish families moved out here to middle country because they’re under less scrutiny. It’s also easier for planes to land around here.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“I listen. I learn.”

“Keller’s taking you under his wing.”

“He thinks he is.”

She sagged against the wall. “So I need to play the game too.”

“If you can. If you can’t, I’d just stay the hell away from him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Give me some credit.” But she wasn’t all that confident she could talk to Keller as easily as she’d done in the last few days, knowing what she knew now.

She’d been on the verge of being seduced, and while she didn’t mind it when Bishop was doing it, she felt stupid.

As if reading her mind, Bishop told her, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Not everybody learns.”

“Where else can they go?”

“The town. It’s a regular old place, not all the fun but a sense of community, and Keller supplies it. They have a couple of underground spots too.”

“What’s going to happen when the sun comes up for good? Because it’s starting to come up more than the satellite’s timing.”

“Nothing’ll be rebuilt in a day. Slow process. By then...” He shrugged. “Let’s just take it one day at a time.”

“Who would we have been if the Chaos hadn’t come through, Bishop?” she asked. “I try not to think about that...but I can’t help it here.”

“For a long time, I didn’t think I’d get that opportunity...fought for everything I had,” Bishop said.

It hit her then, how hard they needed to struggle to define what happiness was, maybe even what it should be in this world. Keller’s seemed to be the path of least resistance, but that wasn’t always the right choice. Here, there was no real moral compass, and it would’ve been easy to sink into that, maybe even revel in it.

But she’d never have been able to do that long term. She had a strong feeling Bishop wouldn’t be able to either, no matter how violent some of his impulses ultimately were.

* * *

Keller came to his door while Luna slept—no doubt knowing Bishop wouldn’t leave her alone after today.

“Everything okay?” Bishop asked, closing the door behind him. Declan was there too, along with several guards.

“It is now,” Keller told him. “After what happened today with Luna, that was the final straw. We’ve used tonight’s drill to get rid of the last of the LoV and their sympathizers. They’re still working with our compound, but they’re not welcome inside here.”

“A dangerous move,” Bishop told him.

“You sound like you approve.”

“Does it matter?” Bishop asked.

“The LoV understood.”

There was no goddamned way Ocho’s brothers—the men in charge of the LoV, understood this shit. But the truth was that the LoV had started taking more chances than they should. It made Bishop suspicious. Keller thought he was the only game in town but for the LoV to bite the hand that fed them?

Something—someone—big was coming down the pipe. And he was in the middle of the storm—with Luna. Without Mathias.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The next day, it was business as usual, although they were told to remain indoors until late afternoon. Luna had been reluctant to go outside once they’d been given the go-ahead, but Bishop assured her things would seem normal. She’d been better once he’d gotten her into the shop.

She worked until close to midnight—he collected her and brought her back into his place.

“You’ve wanted to tell me something since this morning,” she said once he locked the door behind him.

That was the truth. When the guards had come this morning, they’d pulled him into the hall to talk to him about his orders. Bishop confirmed things with Declan while Luna had been working at the shop.

“We’re going on a job tonight—me and Declan,” he said.

“Do you have to?”

“They won’t do another drill tonight. But I wanted you down here and safe. The guards know that. So do Keller and Kammy, okay?”

She was more concerned about him than herself, though. “How bad is it going to be for you?”

“I’ll be fine. Especially knowing you’re safe.”

It had been tough lying to her, but hell, the truth would’ve been worse. And so he kissed her and made her lock the door behind him, and he went to meet Declan.

Tonight, it was only the two of them, on a mission that the rest of Keller’s guards would never be privy to. Keller had been charged by the military with taking out a compound of skinheads in the area. And Keller said he wanted his best men on it.

Bishop knew that this was part of the extermination thing that Jessa talked about the president ordering. Defiance was supposed to be off the list, especially since Jessa threatened to go public with it. But really, they’d never promised to stop doing the exterminations—and the threat of internment camps—they just promised they wouldn’t do it to Defiance. Caspar didn’t trust that at all, but for years, he’d been planning a brand new, secret Defiance compound where they’d relocate both the MC and their families and the tubing business.

It was the first extermination Bishop had been a part of—and he knew this meant he was being pulled more deeply into Keller’s confidence.

He waited by the Humvee, until Declan came inside. He looked like hell—tense and angry and yeah, this wasn’t the best way to start this. But hell, Bishop needed to know what the fuck he was getting himself into. “I packed enough equipment to take down a small army. Do I need it all?”

Declan’s expression darkened a little. “We’ve been charged by the military to take out a group of white supremacists.”

Bishop blew out a breath. “What did this group do?”

“They’re Keller clients. Good ones. Always pay,” Declan admitted. “But between all the members, they’re responsible for seventeen murders, twenty rapes and various other crimes. And that’s just over the past six months.”

Bishop tried to think about what Defiance would do if faced with a group like that. If they bothered Defiance members, or the town, Defiance would have to take care of them. But that seemed like an entirely different proposition than a government-ordered execution.

Or was it? Hell, Bishop had killed men for less.

When he didn’t say anything, Declan added, “The world’s different, Bishop. I’m not apologizing for what I do. But I’m not killing nuns and orphans.”

Bishop glanced at him. “Which one of us are you trying to convince?”

“Ah, fuck you.”

Bishop tapped the wheel. “You up for this?”

Declan gave him a sideways glance. “The military gives orders and we take them.”

“That’s why I left the motherfucking military.”

“No one ever leaves anything behind these days, Bishop,” Declan said. “Let’s roll.”

Bishop didn’t say another word, instead drove off Keller’s compound, put the music on and for the majority of the ride there was silence.

The house the skinheads populated was half an hour from Keller’s. They were an insular group, sticking to themselves and paying Keller in a timely fashion for food and gas. This particular group felt like the Chaos was a racial cleansing warning, which made no fucking sense, but hating someone for the color of their skin never made sense to Bishop either.

“We’ve got to get them all—can’t give them a chance to retaliate,” Declan emphasized.

“Dude, you think I don’t know that?” Bishop asked, craning his neck to look at the house. There were candles lit inside, illuminating some of the windows. You couldn’t judge how many people were inside based on the number of cars parked around anymore, because these days, groups of forty to fifty would sometimes only have two cars between them. Gas was expensive and no one was joyriding anymore. “What about a sister group?”

“The closest one is four hours away.”

“And?”

Declan shook his head. “We haven’t been asked to take care of them. If we are, we’ll do it.”

“Are there kids inside?”

“I don’t know,” Declan said. “Would it matter? What the fuck would we do with them?”

“Give them to people who want kids?” Bishop asked.

“Bishop, come the fuck on—what do you want to do? Walk up there, ask for the kids and then kill the rest?”

Bishop considered it, actually. Then again, most of these people were too selfish to have kids at this stage, knowing that another mouth to feed wasn’t the best way to survive.

Finally, Declan sighed, said, “Give me a minute.”

Bishop got out of the car, clicked the door quietly and stood in the middle of the woods, trying to get rid of the hinky feeling all together, or at least figure out where the fuck it was coming from.

He’d learned how to quiet his mind from Mathias’s dad, and now he tried to channel all his energy, nervous and otherwise. For several long minutes, it was just him and his breathing and then, it was like he meditated off the planet or something. He always felt like he’d been on some kind of drug trip after them, although he never touched the stuff. It was flashes of psychedelic colors and splotches of black and white—he saw a little green in there—camouflage—and he wondered if that meant the military was around.

After several minutes, he opened his eyes to the darkness again. When Declan approached, Bishop signed,
military?
out of habit.

“The military isn’t coming anywhere near this one.” Declan’s voice barely registered. “By the way, there’s a fifteen-year-old boy in the house, accused of raping several women in the area. That’s the youngest one. He’s already fully indoctrinated.”

Declan had the means to get this kind of information. Hell, Bishop guessed he should be grateful that the government was tracking this kind of thing so thoroughly.

He went to the back of the car—he’d already made sure the light wouldn’t come on when he opened the back. In the dark, he felt for the supplies he needed.

With some oil and a rag in a glass bottle, Bishop could create a lantern that burned for hours and, if thrown, became a force of raging destruction. That kind of shit had always fascinated him.

The plan was to bomb the shit out of the place and shoot anyone able to run out. But Bishop needed to be in place and ready to snipe.

Which is why Declan would be the firestarter on this one. He had a bottle in each hand, a couple under his arms. “I’ll do the bottom first to trap them, then the top.”

“Good. Then stay the fuck out of my way until it’s all clear.”

He helped Declan carry more bottles than should be necessary, but he believed on planning for the worst and hoping that shit turned out fucking fun.

Killing killers wasn’t something that should put a black spot on your soul anyway.

Now, he climbed on the roof of the Humvee. Covered by darkness and his camouflage netting that was more security blanket than necessary, he locked and loaded on the front door and gave the signal, a small flash of light in Dec’s direction.

As if perfectly choreographed, the bottles flew through the air, exploding through the windows. The flames shot up immediately, thanks to the accelerant inside the bottles. Which made it extra risky for Declan. But he got off six in record time, and now, Bishop just needed to wait.

The first guy who came out of the house was on fire. Bishop took him out even though burning was probably good for the bastard. The second was a woman who came out hitting her own arms to stop the flames. She went down too. More humanely than most would’ve done.

Three more guys attempted to come out—one threw himself out the second story window and hit the ground hard. Bishop left him for the moment and concentrated on the guy running up the hill toward him. His scope showed a younger face—the fifteen-year-old. Guy wasn’t on fire at all.

Bishop waited, taking out another guy at far range.

When the fifteen-year-old approached him and pulled out a hand gun, Bishop pulled out his own and shot the kid in the face and then the chest in rapid succession. “Motherfucker,” he whispered. “Go to fucking hell where you belong.”

It was all quiet after that. No police were going to give a shit that skinheads got murdered. Their neighbors would party come morning.

As Bishop watched, Declan carefully dragged the bodies closer to the flames so they’d be incinerated. Bishop lit a fire of his own right on the hill and burned the kid where he lay. Wasn’t touching that evil motherfucker’s body, dead or alive.

* * *

On the drive home, the hinky feeling was there again. After the LoV were forced off the compound, Bishop figured that’s what he’d been worried about. But obviously not, since the feeling was stronger than ever. He couldn’t shrug it off this time, and so he slowed down and looked for other signs.

“Bishop, we took down the bad guys tonight—can you take a second to be happy about that?” Declan asked him.

Now, Bishop rolled down the window and sniffed the air. “Rain’s coming.”

“Rain, or storm?”

“Isn’t it all the same these days?” Bishop asked.