The Ashes of Pompeii (Purge of Babylon, Book 5) (10 page)

“You really don’t recognize my voice?” he asked. She thought he sounded almost hurt.

“No,” Gaby said, standing up. She hadn’t lowered her rifle, and neither had Danny. She squinted against the sunlight, trying to see his face. “What happened to the other two?”

“I shot them.”

“Why?”

“I had to, or they would have killed or captured you. I couldn’t let either of those things happen.” He paused, then added, “Has it really been that long? You really don’t remember me…”

By now, Danny had reached the trucks and climbed back onto their part of the highway. He hobbled his way around the Chevy and then peered behind the white Ford.

“Danny?” Gaby called. “What do you see?”

“Two bodies,” Danny said. “Looks like he’s not lying. He took them both out.”

“I told you,” the man said.

“Who the hell are you?” Gaby said.

“Can I come closer?” he asked.

She nodded. “Slowly…”

He continued walking toward her, making a concerted effort not to move his hands too much or lengthen his stride to give the impression of aggression. He was taller than her, though not by very much. Maybe five-ten to her five-seven.

“They made me cut my hair,” he said. When he got to within ten yards of her, he stopped and she could finally see his face.

“You,” she said, the word coming out as barely a whisper.

“Too bad, too,” Nate said, smiling wryly at her. “Chicks dug the Mohawk.”

LARA

Will would have
taken Gage into the back of the boat, made him stand next to the railing, then shot him in the back of the head and let the body drop to the water below. And Lara wouldn’t have lifted a hand to stop him, or think about it ever again. Will did what had to be done and though it sometimes stayed with him, he never looked back on it with regret. Or, at least, he never let her think that he did.

She wasn’t Will, though.

Instead of putting Gage out of his
(their)
misery, she decided to use him, always keeping in mind what the man was capable of. She had no doubts there were crimes he had committed since The Purge that she didn’t know about and that he would never willingly confess to, but she knew what he had intended to do to the island. He had admitted as much, and Keo had told her what he had overheard Gage and his first mate, the man without the head inside the bridge, discussing before he opened fire on them.

“They’ve done it before,” Keo had said. “A lot of times, from the sound of it. They might as well be talking about the weather.”

“And you’re sure?” she had asked, looking him in the eyes because she needed to know with absolute certainty.

Keo had nodded. “I’ve breathed the same air, eaten with, and lived with guys like Gage. Trust me when I tell you, what they had in store for the island would have turned your stomach.”

She believed him. Every word of it.

It took her a full hour to walk the entire 140-something feet of the
Trident
, slipping in and out of its three decks. The interiors were surprisingly roomy, each section broken down for crew, guests, and the owners. She ended up back on the first deck where she had arrived with Maddie and the others earlier before moving through the passenger cabins, then the crew quarters further up front. The second deck (or main, as Keo called it) contained a complete dining room that was part of a large entertainment area with a bar on the side. It was big enough for a dozen people to gather around without bumping into each other.

An owner’s cabin took up the majority of available space up front, with a window that opened up onto a terrace overlooking the front of the yacht. She walked past a king-size bed, its well-used satin sheets tossed across the floor. There were spots of dried blood on the expensive carpeting, along with a pile of men and women’s clothes. She did her best to not think about who they belonged to or how they had gotten there, or where their owners were at the moment.

“Trust me when I tell you, what they had in store for the island would have turned your stomach.”

When she stepped outside the terrace, she had no trouble picking up Jo, Bonnie’s little sister, standing guard in the boat shack on the beach. The yacht had been moved a little closer to the island and they could have swam back and forth if they needed to, though of course using the boats was easier—and drier.

Jo saw her and waved, and Lara returned it.

She felt odd standing out there as if this rich man’s toy belonged to her, especially knowing what Gage and his “friends” had been using it for. So she hurried back inside, giving the posh bed and furniture a longer second look. Eventually they’d have to dump most of it. The boat was diesel-powered, and although she was sure it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference, the idea of leaving all these luxuries onboard felt wrong. Besides, they’d need the extra room sooner or later, and she’d rather everyone fit than be comfortable.

She moved back through the deck, past all the signs of money, from the large screen TVs that curved along with the wall to the bottles of liquor and wine behind the bar (albeit most of them appeared empty) to abstract paintings from people she had never heard of, but knew that each one probably cost more than she had ever made in her life up to this point. That might have changed if she had ever finished medical school and become an honest to goodness doctor. Those dreams were long gone, though, especially now with Zoe taking her place on the island.

So what am I now?

I guess we’ll find out tonight.

Her boots left behind white sand from the beach on the expensive flooring. Some kind of glossy wood…or something. The wall paneling that adorned the place looked like it might have cost more to install than her three years of medical school. Her mind wandered back to the yacht’s previous owner. Dead now. She hadn’t bothered to ask Gage how the man had died. It didn’t matter. Dead was dead.

Well, not really, but close.

She stepped outside onto the patio and leaned over the railing. Maddie was below her on the lower deck, busy fastening a plastic raft in place in case they needed it. The lifeboat that was supposed to be in the spot where Maddie was putting the raft now was, of course, lying somewhere at the bottom of the lake, along with its two occupants.

Two down. That leaves one.

So where’s the eighth guy?

Lara unclipped her radio and keyed it. “Blaine, come in.”

“What’s up?” Blaine said.

“Anything yet?”

Blaine and Roy were two decks below her in the engine room, searching for a man who may or may not actually exist. Lara had gone down there and taken a look herself, but it was like stepping into the belly of a submarine—she didn’t have a clue what she was looking at. It did make her glad she hadn’t actually shot Gage earlier. Whatever the man was—and he was a lot of things, most of it bad—he still possessed knowledge that none of them did. She was going to exploit that until she didn’t need to anymore.

After that, well…

“It’s dirty down here,” Blaine said through the radio, “but so far no signs of the eighth guy. But I can see why he’d be down here, though. This place is a maze. There are nooks and crannies and places I don’t even have names for.”

“A lot of places to hide?”

“Too many. We’d need more time and manpower to look everywhere. And if he knows the place as well as Keo thinks he does, then he’ll know where to hide from us. Or move around without being seen or heard.”

She didn’t know what she had expected. That the eighth guy would voluntarily give himself up after hiding out all night? She was hoping, maybe, but she always knew it wasn’t going to happen.

Of course not. Because that would have been too easy.

“Okay,” she said into the radio. “Finish searching what you can, then get back up here. Once you’re outside, seal the engine room. If he’s down there, we’ll just have to be satisfied with locking him in.”

“What about the engine?”

“What about it?”

“What if he sabotages it?”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t that what people usually do in the movies? To keep us from launching a nuke or shooting someone important? Or, in this case, using the boat?”

Sabotage? She hadn’t thought of that.

So what else hadn’t she thought about?

“Or he could just do enough damage so we can’t use it, but he can fix it later,” Blaine said.

“Blaine, you’re overthinking it.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” she said, doing her best to sound confident. Did it work? Was she just fooling herself? She added, “Finish up and get up here. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.”

“You’re the boss,” Blaine said.

So everyone keeps reminding me. God help us all.

She clipped the radio back to her hip. Maybe the eighth guy didn’t even exist, and Gage was playing games with them. Or maybe the man didn’t know how to count. Either way, she didn’t like the mere prospect of having someone running around on the boat who could hurt one of her people. Not that she could do anything about it at the moment. At least, not without more manpower.

Below her, Maddie was looking up in her direction. “I always wanted my own personal yacht!” she shouted.

“What were you going to name it?” Lara called down.

“Jaxon. With an
x
.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“I wish. He didn’t know I existed.”

“Well, now you have a yacht. That’ll teach him.”

Maddie laughed, then went back to cinching the craft into place.

Lara looked down at her watch. It was almost ten.

Will had called two hours ago. He wouldn’t call again for another few hours, until he was almost at the island. She had wanted to ask him to make it three contacts instead of their usual two, just for today, but had decided against it. Will had other things to worry about out there, like men in uniforms with assault rifles. The less she put on his plate, the more energy he could devote to actually surviving. God knew that was difficult enough on an island that didn’t move, but to be constantly hounded and chased out there in the open…

Hurry home, Will.

She glanced over at the shoreline in the distance. She couldn’t quite see the burned-down marina or the two-story house with the naked eye, but if she squinted long and hard enough, just maybe…

Her radio squawked, and Carly’s voice came through. She sounded anxious and even slightly out of breath. “Lara, come in.”

She answered as fast as she could. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you hear it?”

“Hear what?”

“I guess you can’t hear it,” Carly said. “Boat motors. They’re coming toward us from the north.”

“Did you say ‘motors’? Plural?”

“Yeah. Benny says he can see two of them right now.” She paused, then added, “Benny says there are men in camo army uniforms on both of them.”

Already? In the daylight?

She pressed the transmit lever again, said, “Keo, did you hear that?”

“I’m on my way to the Tower now,” Keo said.

He was back at the hotel, having returned earlier to get out of last night’s damp clothes and escort Gage over to Zoe in order to get his wound treated. She might have entertained the idea of killing the “captain” earlier, but now that she accepted how valuable he could be, they had to keep him alive, even if he only had one good leg left. She only needed what was inside his head, anyway.

“Blaine, Roy,” Lara said into the radio.

“Where do you want us?” Blaine answered.

“Stay on the boat and guard the yacht.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Then, “Maddie, get the boat ready.”

“Readying,” Maddie said, already climbing onto the bass fishing boat tied to the back of the
Trident
below her.

Lara hustled down the rung of stairs. She hadn’t set foot on the lower deck for more than a few seconds when her radio squawked again.

“Lara,” Carly said through the radio.

“Where are they now?” she asked.

“Still at the same spot. But remember when I said there were two boats?”

“Yes…”

“They just got friends,” Carly said. “There are four of them now.”

Are they really attacking? In the daylight?

Maybe I was wrong about them. About what they would do. What they could do.

What
else
was I wrong about?

*

Four boats. If
they had two men in each one, that was eight soldiers. That was the best-case scenario, anyway. It was more likely there would be more than just two per vessel. Like four. She remembered that night when Karen’s people tried to retake the island. There had been around four per boat then.

The worst-case scenario had sixteen heavily-armed men sent to kill them.

In the daylight?
she thought again.

For some reason, she found herself hoping sixteen was the right number. Sixteen men, as menacing as that sounded, was preferable to twenty, or thirty, or God help them, forty or more. If Kate really wanted the island and to kill every living thing on it, she had plenty of collaborators willing to help her achieve that end. All those soldiers out there
(like Josh)
running around rounding up survivors who hadn’t capitulated to the ghouls yet was proof of that.