The Fires of Atlantis (Purge of Babylon, Book 4) (7 page)

It sounded messed up even in her head.

“What about the horses?” Gaby asked. “I’ve seen them around.”

“There’s a stable on the south side, but there are people watching it. They’re not armed, but I don’t think they’re just going to give the animals to us.”

“They won’t have a choice.”

“Can you really just shoot them?”

She stared at him, wondering if the shock on his face was real. “Yes,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I don’t want to do that,” Peter said, and shook his head. “Can’t we find another way?”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

“I want to leave this town, but not if I have to kill to do it.”

“You bashed Mac’s head in pretty good upstairs.”

He flinched. “That was different. He’s one of the guards, and it was necessary. These other people…they’re not dangerous.”

She could see the conflict on his face, and he reminded her very much of Nate.

Where are you, Nate? Are you dead? Are you out there somewhere? Are you one of those things now, lurking in the darkness?

“All right,” she said. “Then we’ll have to go on foot.” She looked back down the hallway. “The highway is back there.”

“The interstate,” Peter nodded.

“Then what’s on this side?”

“The farms, woods, and Hillman’s Lake, where they get the water.”

“And beyond that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never gone past the lake. I don’t think anyone has except the guards.”

Gaby took a breath. Milly smiled back at her, looking strangely confident in what they were about to do. Gaby couldn’t fathom what was going through the kid’s head at the moment. The last thing she was feeling was confidence. She wanted to escape, but she always thought she’d only have herself to take care of. Dragging a thirty-something guy and his, well, whatever it was Milly was to him, was never part of the plan.

Finally, she nodded. “All right. Remember: You belong here. Act normal.”

“Normal,” Peter said. “Right.”

She turned back around, opened the door, and stepped outside into the bright sun, gripping the AK-47 tightly in front of her, forefinger sliding comfortably close to the trigger.

S
eeing
and feeling the warmth of the sun from her apartment window
(prison cell)
was one thing; actually being outside walking under it was another. She had forgotten how freeing and comforting the daylight was. Even with all the potential dangers around her, Gaby couldn’t help but take a moment to soak in the clean air.

The first sound that reached her after stepping out onto the sidewalk was loud hammering from across the street. A dozen men were carefully lowering a large rectangular sign—a gaudy monstrosity featuring a woman lying on her side, barely clothed—to waiting hands below them. There was a second, plainer sign leaning against the building with writing that read: “Housing #14.”

Other buildings around her were being similarly repurposed, their old signs either already redone or in the process of being replaced. They seemed to be working from right to left, probably depending on what they needed. With the constant arrival of new five-ton transport trucks on a regular basis, she imagined they had dozens, maybe even hundreds, of new people in need of homes every day.

Salvation comes at a price. Your blood. Your soul. Your future.

I’d rather die first.

“Let’s go,” she said quietly.

They started up the sidewalk, making a beeline for the end of the street. The road curved left out of town, but the tree line in front of her beckoned, promising safety within the woods beyond. Gaby set a calm, almost leisurely pace, smiling and nodding and exchanging looks with everyone they passed. No one wore uniforms, which helped to set her mind somewhat at ease, and she allowed herself to lessen the pressure against the AK-47’s trigger.

She expected to see men on horseback, but there were none. Instead, the streets and sidewalks were filled with civilians. Men, women, and children. And pregnant women. It wasn’t hard to pick them out of the crowd. There were a
lot
of them.

“How many pregnant women are in town?” she asked Peter.

“A lot,” he said. “Over a hundred. There are more women here than men. I asked around, and it’s the same in all the other towns.”

She could see for herself that he was right. For every man or boy she saw, there were at least two females. Some pregnant, others not. And there was something else she noticed: They were all young and healthy.

Perfect birth-giving age. To squeeze out babies for the monsters.

Gaby’s mood darkened.

I’d rather die first…

“Peter!” a female voice shouted.

Gaby looked over as a woman in her twenties walked briskly across the street toward them. She was slim and attractive, with long black hair that fell all the way to her waist. She wore a white one-piece dress and beamed at the sight of Peter. Gaby searched for the telltale signs of a baby bump, but there wasn’t one.

“Hey, Anna,” Peter said, smiling back at the woman.

“Where you off to?” Anna asked.

“Um, to the lake.”

“What’s going on at the lake?”

Peter glanced at Gaby, and she could see him struggling for an answer. Lying, apparently, didn’t come easily to Peter.

“They wanted me to look at some plants they found,” he said. “To see if they’re edible.”

The woman stopped in front of them, and bright green eyes settled on Gaby. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Gaby said.

“I haven’t seen you around before. Did you just arrive?”

“You know everyone in town?” Gaby asked, injecting just enough annoyance into her voice to let the woman know it wasn’t her job to question her. She was, after all, the one wearing a uniform (or at least, Mac’s boots and jacket) and holding a rifle.

The woman was properly chastised. “I guess not.”

“Right,” Gaby said, and looked away.

Anna smiled at Milly instead. “Hey there, kid.”

“Hey, Anna,” Milly said. The girl smiled, playing along. She was definitely a more convincing liar than Peter. “How’s Bobby?”

“He’s okay. Working at the barn with the horses now.”

“That’s cool.”

Anna looked back at Peter before her eyes shifted over to Gaby again. “So, I’ll let you guys get back to work.”

“Okay,” Peter said. “See you around.”

“Yeah, sure.” She gave Gaby a pursed smile before walking off.

Gaby looked after her.

She knows.

She must have been unconsciously raising the AK-47 when she felt Peter’s hand on the rifle’s barrel. “No,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Please. She’s a good person.”

They’re all good people until they shoot you in the back,
she thought, but said instead, “Whatever. Let’s go.”

She started up the sidewalk again. Peter and Milly followed in silence for a moment, their quickening footsteps sounding almost in tune to the hammering across the street.

Gaby risked a quick glance over her shoulder.

Anna, farther back down the street, was watching after them, and her eyes met Gaby’s again.

“Pick up the pace,” Gaby said.

She began moving faster, dodging people in their path. If they were indifferent to her before, they became slightly alarmed as she moved aggressively around and sometimes through them. Gaby measured the distance between them and the woods.

Fifty yards, give or take.

Her pace quickened and she was almost moving at a trot now. “Hurry.”

“What’s happening?” Peter said.

“Just hurry!”

Peter and Milly already looked out of breath and they weren’t any closer to the tree lines. The girl probably hadn’t built up much of a stamina delivering food, and Gaby could already see the strain on her round face. Peter didn’t look any better. She guessed cooking for people in the bed-and-breakfast hadn’t done him any favors, either.

Forty yards…

…thirty-five…

“Hey!” a male voice shouted behind them.

Gaby looked over her shoulder a second time.

Anna was standing next to a uniformed guard, the woman pointing after them. The man was too far back for her to make out any details, but she could easily discern the M4 hanging at his side.

“Stop where you are!” the man shouted.

The hell with that.

She took off, shouting, “Run!”

She knew Peter and Milly were close behind because she could hear them gasping, their sneakers slapping against the pavement. People stumbled out of their way, others hurrying into open doors. Men working on a building across the street stopped what they were doing and stared curiously.

A gunshot
pinged!
against a metal sign hanging four feet above her head. Gaby ducked reflexively, even though she didn’t really need to.

She picked up even more speed.

Twenty yards…

She glanced back and saw Peter holding onto Milly’s hand, the two of them somehow keeping pace despite the sweat and veins popping out along their temples and foreheads.

God, they’re out of shape.

Gaby didn’t stop. Didn’t waste precious seconds shooting back at the guard. The first gunshot would already be bringing other collaborators. One or two, she might have been able to prevail against in a stand-up fight, but if even half of those seven showed up, she was a goner.

No, not seven. Six
.
Because Mac was probably still bleeding on the second floor of the bed-and-breakfast right now.

Death by roller pin. Now that’s a hell of a way to go.

Ten yards…

…five…

She finally reached the end of the sidewalk and darted into the woods just as the man fired again, the
pop-pop-pop
of a three-round burst chopping into the branches above her head. She heard Milly scream and glanced back at the girl’s terrified face. Peter had picked her up and was cradling her like precious cargo as he struggled to catch up.

“Keep running!” she shouted.

He might have nodded, she couldn’t be sure. But he didn’t stop, and that was all that mattered. Milly was clinging to his neck, her face shoved against his chest. She might have also been whimpering, but Gaby couldn’t be certain with her own heartbeat slamming against her chest.

As she ran, Gaby wondered how long it would take Josh to hear about her escape and come after her. How many men would he commit to getting her back under his thumb? That would probably depend on how badly he wanted her. At the moment, she didn’t particularly care. She had weapons again and freedom, and she’d be damned if she was going to give up both of those things now.

Come and get me, Josh.

Come and get me if you can…

S
unset Deluca Drive
, with its commercial buildings and vast parking lots to one side and the crystal clear waters of Lake Dulcet on the other, made for a great morning walk. The only sounds came from the soles of his boots against the pavement, a welcome distraction after last night’s near miss. The wind blew through the palm trees and birds glided through the air with all the time in the world. He could almost believe there was nothing wrong with the universe, that at any moment the area would be filled with tourists snapping photos.

Keo walked under streetlights and alongside dead cars, most of them still with keys in their ignitions. But minus gas or working batteries, they were useless. There was surprisingly little traffic, with only the occasional sedan or abandoned truck to break the monotony of gray concrete and random spurts of weeds. He had traveled this stretch of the city dozens of times, and the silence never failed to make him just a little bit uncomfortable.

It was noon by the time he finally made it back to the marina.

He stepped out of the street and onto the cobblestone walkway, dodging the same three white trucks that had been parked there since the day he had arrived with Zachary and Shorty. He took note of each truck’s windows and their current positions and was satisfied they hadn’t been moved or tampered with since yesterday morning.

The marina had three long docks and sixteen slips, with the middle section capable of hosting eight vessels while the outer two were able to hold four each. There was only one boat in the entire place at the moment. A sailboat with blue along the sides, about thirteen meters long. It was spacious enough to house five or six comfortably, with an American flag fluttering proudly at the stern. Inside the cabin, they had found photos of a family of six. A nice-looking group of people with blue-blood genes in expensive polo sweaters and Ralph Lauren slacks.

The fact that there was only one lone sailboat in the entire marina was a bit of a mystery. Inside, they had found emergency rations, nonperishable food, and cases of bottled water, which led Keo to believe the cruisers had arrived only recently. Maybe they docked, went into the city, but never made it back onboard. In a way, it was similar to how Mark and Jordan had been surviving since the end, which would mean the previous owners knew about water being a sanctuary from the monsters.

So where were they now? Maybe out there, somewhere.

Or dead, like Zachary and Shorty.

That wasn’t entirely true. There were worse things than death these days…

The problem with the sailboat was the size. Thirteen meters was big, and the vessel wasn’t designed for single-handed sailing. Even with Zachary and Shorty, two men who were even more novices at this than he was, it would have been a chore to manage the boat along the veins of the river heading south—

Engines.

Keo was about to climb over the boat’s fender when the noise cut through the silence of the city. It was impossible to miss. Sound already traveled long distances these days, but mechanical noise was like shouting through a bullhorn.

Car engines.

He finished the climb and dropped down, flattening himself against the sun-bleached white deck. He unslung the pack and slid it in front of him, then laid the MP5SD on top of the nylon fabric. He pulled the zipper and took out the small binoculars and peered through it, past the railing in front of him.

He tracked two vehicles moving fast down Sunset Deluca Drive.

Trucks.

A sleek black GMC Sierra and a white Honda Ridgeline. They were staying close together, clearly moving in tandem. He waited for both vehicles to flash by and keep going, but instead they began to slow down—

Crap.

—before stopping completely in front of the parking lot and behind the three white trucks.

And my luck keeps getting better and better.

Two men, wearing clothes Keo didn’t think he’d ever see again, climbed out of the GMC in camo uniforms and combat boots, with sidearms and ammo pouches attached to web belts. They looked like soldiers, but Keo knew better. There were no American soldiers anymore. You would need an American government to still be around for that. Besides, these guys didn’t actually look like servicemen. Keo had been around guys in uniform almost his entire life, and these jokers looked more like civilians dressing up for Halloween. Even the shade of their camo was wrong.

One of the men reached into the large GMC and pulled out a tan-colored FN SCAR assault rifle. The second, bigger one had an M4. He was wearing some kind of an assault vest with a radio in a pouch, which the man pressed now. A loud squawk, then muffled voices, but they were too far away for Keo to eavesdrop.

He was caught in no man’s land. Escaping into the cabin behind him was a non-starter. He had only two real options at this point—fight or flee. He couldn’t flee. There was nowhere to go unless he wanted to go for a swim.

Which left fight.

Because there was no way these men were going to leave now. Even if they didn’t know the boat existed before showing up, they would have to be blind not to spot the white-painted forty-meter mast sticking up into the air like a beacon. If these bozos came any closer and looked for more than a few seconds, it would be impossible to miss the only boat in the entire marina.

So he wasn’t terribly surprised when the fat man began walking up the middle dock toward him.

If it weren’t for shitty luck…

He watched Fatty turn sideways to move between two of the trucks in the parking lot, barely making the tight squeeze. His eyes, predictably, saw the docked sailboat right away as soon as he was through.

Keo slipped the binoculars back into the pack and picked up the submachine gun. He pressed as much of his body against the deck as he could in order to lower his profile even further. The railing would hide him somewhat, but if the man came any closer…

He flicked the fire selector on the MP5SD from fully automatic to semi-auto. The sound suppressor would do a lot to hide the gunshot, but the other guy standing outside the Ridgeline would notice pretty quickly when Fatso fell down.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall…

He couldn’t see up the dock anymore, so he had to rely on his ears. Heavy footsteps approached him at a slow pace. Keo didn’t think the man could hurry if he wanted to because of the girth he was carrying.

How do you stay fat at the end of the world? Now, that’s a nice trick.

“—see the boat, but I don’t see anyone,” the man was saying.

“Well, someone’s gotta have sailed that thing here,” a voice said through a radio. “The kid said it wasn’t here a month ago when he last came by.”

“Maybe he got it wrong.”

“Kid swears by it.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll check it out.”

“Careful you don’t slip and fall into the water,” the other man said, chuckling. “I’m not jumping in there after your fat ass.”

“Har har,” the fat man said. “You’re a funny guy.”

Keo had been counting the man’s loud footsteps, and when he got the right number, he rose up on the deck of the boat with the MP5SD in his hands.

The man was halfway up the dock when he froze at the sight of Keo.

A painful second, then two, ticked by.

The man groped for the radio and tried to lift it to his lips when Keo shot him once in the chest. He watched the man stagger for a moment, a shocked expression spreading across his generous face. Keo shot him again between the eyes, and the big man dropped to the wooden boards, his bulk making a loud
thump!

Keo quickly threw himself over the boat’s fender and onto the dock. He raced back toward the parking lot with the MP5SD in front of him.

The man with the SCAR was running up the parking lot when he spotted Keo and slid to a stop.

Keo squeezed the trigger twice, putting both rounds into the man’s chest. The “soldier” stumbled but didn’t go down. Instead, the man actually put a hand back against one of the white trucks to steady himself.

Bulletproof vest? Cheater!

Keo put the third bullet in the man’s face, the silver 9mm round obliterating the nose in a shower of blood and bone. This time, the man dropped.

He reached the end of the marina and pushed on, passing the second dead man, whose radio squawked, a voice shouting through, “Milton? What’s going on out there? Milton?”

He slipped around one of the trucks instead of going between them. He flicked the fire selector to fully automatic as soon as he reached the parking lot and came up on the Ridgeline just as both front doors opened and two more uniformed men clambered outside. The passenger was trying desperately to unsling an M4 carbine, while the driver had managed to get a silver Colt 1911 automatic out of its holster and was aiming it over the hood of the truck.

Keo shot the passenger first because he was the closer target, stitching the moving man with a quick burst and catching him in the chest with three rounds. His fourth, fifth, and sixth bullets shattered the Ridgeline’s window and Keo glimpsed faces inside the truck, in the back, and heard screams.

Female screams.

The driver fired over the hood of the truck. Too fast and his hands were shaking, throwing his aim off. Barely. Keo still heard the
zip!
as the bullet nearly took his head off anyway.

He went into a crouch and lost sight of the driver on the other side of the truck momentarily. Not that that seemed to stop the man from shooting. He fired off two more shots, then a fourth one, the
clink-clink
of his bullet casings landing on the ground.

Keo stayed low and crab-walked sideways when the driver appeared from around the hood. Keo shot his legs out from under him, and the driver screamed as he slammed into the parking lot.

He got up and rushed over, kicking the fancy Colt under the Ridgeline. He ignored the driver’s screams and circled the truck before leaning into the open driver-side door and looking into the backseat.

Two faces, both draped with long hair, peered back out at him.

One of the women, a brunette, held out her hands—showing scarred palms—as if to let him know she wasn’t armed. The other one had dirty-blonde hair and seemed to be trying to disappear into the floor of the truck.

“Outside,” Keo said.

He stepped back and waited for the women to come out. They did, reluctantly, shaking with every step. They clung to one another, staring at Keo, then at the driver rolling around on the ground next to them. The driver’s eyes, like the women’s, were glued to the bloody stumps that used to be his legs.

Keo made a quick tour of both vehicles, searching for hidden passengers that didn’t exist. He gave the area a once-over and listened for sounds other than the driver screaming behind him. His own gunfire had been suppressed, but the driver’s Colt might as well have been artillery fire against the stillness of the city.

He walked back to the women. Both wore cargo pants and cotton undershirts underneath long-sleeve work shirts covered in sweat. They looked dirty, but then again, he was probably not much of a prize himself at the moment, especially after running for his life and spending all night inside a smelly attic.

“We should go,” the brunette said.

“Go where?” Keo said.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s not here.”

“Why?”

“There are others out there. Nearby.”

“How near—”

He hadn’t gotten the question out when he heard them.

Car engines.

And they were coming in his direction…
fast.

“
A
re
they after you or me?” Keo asked.

“These new guys? I don’t know. The ones from earlier were taking us back,” the brunette, Carrie, said. “But it’s not like we’re important or anything; we just had the bad luck of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. What about you? They went to that marina looking for someone. Are you important or something?”

“No. I’m just some guy trying to get to Texas.”

“What’s in Texas?”

Gillian.

“Be quiet for a moment,” he said.

They were inside an abandoned lakeside bar called Bago’s, about half a kilometer from the sailboat that Keo needed. From here, using a pair of binoculars, he had a direct line of sight to the marina across Lake Dulcet. Carrion birds were gathering in the air above the parking lot waiting to feast, except they couldn’t because there were men below them. Living men, moving around in familiar camo uniforms.

One of the men that had arrived five minutes ago started shooting into the air, scattering the birds. At least for a little while. Soon, the creatures had circled back around to where the bodies were. It didn’t look as if they were going anywhere anytime soon.

There were two new vehicles in the marina parking lot, and they had dumped six more men with assault rifles. Keo watched them from the safety of Bago’s for nearly twenty minutes as they searched through the bodies, the vehicles, and then the lone sailboat at the end of the dock. When they were satisfied he wasn’t there, two of them opened fire on the boat with their carbines, the
pop-pop-pop
filling the air for ten full seconds. When they were finally empty, they reloaded
…
and poured more rounds into the vessel.

Shit. There goes my ride to Texas.

They didn’t stay behind to watch the boat sink. Instead, they headed back to the parking lot, where one of them drew his sidearm and shot out all four tires on the already bullet-riddled Ridgeline while his friends picked up the bodies and loaded them into the trucks. Two of them climbed into the GMC and the three vehicles drove off.

Except they didn’t all go in the same direction. Instead, they headed off in separate paths, spreading out into the city. That was a search formation if he ever saw one. The closest truck came within 200 meters of Bago’s before turning and disappearing eastward. The only bright spot was that not a single one of them headed south, which was the direction he needed to go.

Yeah. Bright side. Get it where you can, pal.