The Gates of Byzantium (Purge of Babylon, Book 2) (12 page)

He thought he could. Or maybe it was just bravado talking, a vain attempt to delude himself into thinking he could do something he had never done before in his life. It was going to be physical and tough, and he might get the shit kicked out of him. It was, essentially, something he had always avoided throughout his life.

But he couldn’t avoid it now, not if he was going to get Gaby out of here.

Josh looked back at her, summoning all the confidence in the world and pushing it onto his face. “I promise. He’s not going to do anything. But I think this is the only way we’re going to get out of here. We have to do it now, before the others come back.”

She didn’t answer him right away, but after a while—twenty seconds, maybe thirty seconds, he wasn’t sure—she finally nodded. “Okay. Now?”

“Not yet. When he comes back. He has to see you taking it off.”

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

“He will.”

She gave him another long, reluctant look, but then finally nodded. “You better be right about this.”

“I am.”

God, I hope I am.

To make this work, he couldn’t be near her, so Josh got up and moved to the other end of the cage and told her to move closer to the center, directly in front of the door. She gave him another odd look, feeling like some kind of meat being dangled in front of a lion, no doubt, but she did as he asked anyway.

The other woman continued to look on while still pretending she wasn’t. Josh wondered what she would do when it went down. Would she leap to her feet to help, or stay still? His plan didn’t really count on her pitching in, but he wasn’t going to say no to it, either. She was a fighter. He knew that much just from looking at her. But would she fight when the time came? Maybe…

He expected Gaby to start protesting at any moment, but she never did. Instead, she sat back against the wall and waited. It was disgusting and insulting to her, he knew, but it had to be this way. Josh knew intimately how men thought. He was one of the species, after all. Okay, maybe not a man yet, but almost a man. Man-ish. Still, he had been around enough of them to know what they said when there were no women around. He felt almost dirty knowing exactly what had been going through Betts’s mind the last time he had glanced over at Gaby.

They waited, but Betts didn’t show up. Josh could hear him moving around outside, so he was still there and hadn’t left them. He made a lot of noise and didn’t seem to care if anyone heard. But he didn’t come back into the semitrailer.

Josh glanced at his watch: 6:17 
p.m.

This had to happen soon. It would start getting dark around eight, and sundown would come a few minutes after that. Maybe 8:20 
p.m.
, or close enough. The others would also be back by then. Folger didn’t look like a stupid man, and he would have taken the clock into consideration during their supply raids around town. They would definitely be back before eight o’clock. Much earlier than that, probably.

Where the hell is Betts?

Just when Josh didn’t think he would ever show, there was a loud clanging from the ramps and Betts appeared, covered in sweat again. He stalked forward and went straight to the box where they kept their clothes.

As Betts did that, Josh looked over at Gaby and caught her eye and nodded quickly. Gaby shrugged off the long-sleeved plaid shirt and left it lying next to her. Without his prompting this time, she sat up straighter, accentuating her chest underneath her cotton T-shirt, and stared forward as if she didn’t realize what she was doing.

Josh tried to make himself as small as possible, shrinking into the corner of the cage. This was something he had mastered all his life—becoming less, even in a room filled with people. It wasn’t hard to do, you just had to commit. Josh committed now, and when he peeked quickly across the cage, he saw the other woman doing the same thing.

She knows, and she’s playing along
.
I might have some help after all…

Josh slipped his forearms over his head and looked down at the floor. There was dirt, strips of old clothes and grass, like they were sitting in a pigsty that had been re-used over and over again. Anyone who saw him would think he had drifted off into his own world; or better, had fallen asleep while curled up in a ball. Josh was using his ears to listen and his downcast eyes to catch shadows on the floor. It was a skill he had mastered over the years of middle school and high school, where eye contact with bullies was the same as challenging them to a fight he couldn’t possibly win.

It didn’t take long. After a few seconds, Josh heard Betts walking toward the cage. Betts didn’t say a word but stood outside looking in for a moment. Josh could see Betts’s shadow falling through the bars, and he could imagine the tall, scarred man staring into the cage at Gaby, raping her with his eyes.

Josh willed Gaby not to flinch, not to grab her shirt and pull it back on and run into a corner—anything to get away from what must be Betts’s searing glare at the moment.

Be brave, Gaby, be brave…

Then he heard Betts walking—away from them!

For a moment, Josh was certain Betts had seen through the trap, but then a few seconds later there was the jingling of keys and then Betts’s footsteps returning.

Josh prepared himself. He estimated Betts had about twenty pounds on him. Whereas Josh knew he would have no chance against Manley or Del, or even the short Hiller, Betts was another matter. Betts was all height and no width. Tall people, Josh had found, were ungainly and tended to lose their balance easily, especially those who weren’t athletically gifted. Josh figured Betts was one of those people. Or at least, he hoped.

If not…

Josh heard the sound of the cage’s lock turning, turning, and then
click
. Then the door opening, and Betts’s footsteps getting closer, and Josh saw Betts’s entire shadow moving into the cage, toward Gaby.

Be brave, Gaby, be brave…

He was sure she would scream, or get up and run away. But she didn’t. He could see her body out of the corner of his right eye, the point of her pink shoes as she sat on the floor, back against the wall, her arms at her sides.
Inviting.
He couldn’t imagine how much courage it was taking her to just sit there and look back at a man who had things on his mind that would horrify most people if he ever said them out loud.

That’s my girl. That’s my girl…

Josh waited for the right moment. He saw Betts’s shadow fall over the point of Gaby’s left shoe and could hear the fabric of Betts’s jeans constricting as he bent down into a crouch, one foot extended in front of him. Then Josh saw another shadow—Betts’s hand, reaching forward, toward Gaby.

And still Gaby didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t get up and try to escape.

Now.

He shot up from the corner like a rocket. Or at least, he liked to think he looked like a rocket, though in truth he probably looked more like a small bundle of clumsy hands and feet—or maybe a moderately sized boulder stumbling and fumbling its way forward. It didn’t matter how he looked or how convincing, it only mattered that
he was moving
.

He was on his feet and pushing forward before he lifted his head and saw Betts, who, sensing movement, turned suddenly in his direction. Josh saw the whites of Betts’s eyes as they widened in surprise, and Josh thought,
Suck it!

He intended to barrel straight into Betts and knock the man off balance and drive him into the floor. Instead, Josh just barely clipped Betts’s shoulder, because Betts was standing up, moving much faster than Josh had expected—how could someone that tall move that fast?—and twisting at the very last second. Josh did manage to get a piece of Betts, and the bigger man spun a bit and lost his balance, even as Josh flew past him and landed in a pile, grimacing with pain as his body slammed into the hard floor, the carpeting providing almost no cushion at all.

No!

Josh was still on the floor, trying to get up, when he heard Betts grunting and felt the flailing of feet and legs and God knew what else behind him, because the entire cage suddenly exploded with violence.

It was Gaby. She was fighting with Betts. Josh was still trying to come to grips with his utter failure and Gaby’s attempts to save herself and him, when he saw a pair of feet rushing past him and knew the woman was joining the fray.

Oh, thank you, God.

After what seemed like minutes—though it was more like milliseconds—he finally found his footing and turned and saw Gaby, on her feet, whaling on Betts’s face, while the woman was on top of him, riding his back like he was a horse. The woman had her legs wrapped tightly around Betts’s waist and was raining blows down on his head. She was relentless with her attack, delivering a torrent of fists, her face twisted in unleashed fury. Not that Betts looked like he even felt them. If anything, he looked annoyed, and was trying to shake off the woman while blocking Gaby’s fists as she flailed at him from the front.

Josh gathered himself, took a breath, and raced back across the small space of the cage with everything he had. He picked up speed as he went and crashed into Betts. This time he got all of Betts from the side, and they went spilling—Betts, Josh, and the woman, who was dislodged by the impact and went flying through the air. Josh didn’t see where she landed, but he heard the sound of the cage’s bars rattling, and he thought,
Oh, God, I hope I didn’t just kill her. Please don’t be dead, because I think I’m going to need you for the next few seconds.

Josh was on the floor again and trying to get back up for the second time, but he never got the chance. Betts was suddenly on top of him and Josh felt hands—and long fingers, such damn long fingers—going around his throat. He felt stabbing, intense pain, the likes of which he had never experienced in his life—and wouldn’t have thought was even possible—shooting through his entire body. Betts’s face, hovering over him. Up close, the scar looked more terrifying somehow, and Josh couldn’t help but wonder how he had gotten it, and if it had hurt. Maybe it had even hurt as much as Josh’s neck was hurting at the moment as Betts applied pressure and tried to choke the life out of him.

Then Betts seemed to loosen his grip, and it took Josh a few seconds to realize he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Gaby was standing behind Betts, hitting him repeatedly in the back of the neck, and each time Gaby pulled her hand back to strike again, it was covered with blood that got redder and darker with each stroke. Something shiny was glinting in Gaby’s fingers, and Josh recognized the key to the cage. Gaby wasn’t hitting Betts, she was
stabbing
him in the back of the neck repeatedly with the key.

Josh saw Betts’s eyes start to roll in their sockets and felt his fingers lose strength. Finally, Josh was able to break free. He scrambled to his feet as Gaby staggered back, her right hand covered in thick gobs of blood, the key gripped between two of her fingers with the point sticking out like a weapon. She met Josh’s eyes, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if she was afraid or horrified or indifferent. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but there was no time for that.

Instead, Josh turned back to Betts, who was kneeling on the floor slightly slumped over, blood gushing out of four—five—holes in the back of his neck. He was in shock and didn’t seemed to be moving, but Josh could hear him moaning. Josh gathered as much strength as he could and lifted his right leg and brought it forward into the side of Betts’s head. The man’s entire body careened over sideways to the cage floor, where he lay shaking, staring accusingly up at Josh and Gaby.

“Come on, we have to go,” Josh said as he grabbed Gaby’s left hand, the one without all the blood (he wondered if he had done that on purpose?) and led her through the open cage door.

But then Josh stopped and hurried back inside, rushing over to the other woman. She was slowly pushing herself up from the floor, and he could tell she was hurt and dizzy from the blow she had taken when she flew into the cage bars.

“Come on,” Josh said, holding out his hand to her.

She stared at his hand, then at him, and he could see her mind reeling, trying to decide if she could trust him, trust Gaby, trust someone other than herself right now. She finally made up her mind and grabbed his hand, and he pulled her up. She was a lot heavier than she looked.

They rushed through the cage door. Gaby was waiting outside. She had dropped the key and was clutching her arms around her chest, trembling noticeably.

“Come on,” Josh said, and started through the semitrailer.

“Wait,” the woman said, and Josh turned around and saw her heading for the gun rack. She grabbed a handgun off a hook—it looked like one of those black plastic guns that Folger had used to hit him—and snatched up a couple of magazines.

Good idea.

He hurried over. The rack was filled with an obscene amount of weapons, from the kind Folger carried to big rifles that looked like they probably weighed more than he did. Josh had never seen weapons like that in person, only in the movies, and they looked almost as difficult to use as they probably were to lift.

Then he saw it—Matt’s silver chrome revolver. And nearby, Matt’s backpack. Josh grabbed both items, shoving the gun into the backpack, then grabbed a couple more guns nearby, including as many magazines as he could scoop up with one hand. He didn’t even know if they would fit the guns, but they were the same color and, well, he could find out later.

He saw Betts’s radio, sitting on the box of clothes. Josh grabbed it, too, and when he looked back, he saw the woman was walking toward the cage, toward Betts, and knew what she was going to do.

“No,” Josh said.

She looked back at him, bloodlust in her eyes. She wanted to kill Betts. She was
going
to kill Betts.

“No,” Josh said again. “The gunshot. They’ll hear it. We need all the head start we can get.”

She was probably expecting a different argument, but what he said took her by surprise and, to his relief, she nodded back.

Josh picked up the key Gaby had dropped. It was still covered in blood and clumps of flesh and hair, and it made him a little queasy just to touch it. He hurried over and locked the cage. Betts was lying on his side on the floor, probably dead. It didn’t look like he was moving at all, and there was a big puddle of blood underneath him.