Until We End (7 page)

Then the shouting got louder and there was a gap in the gunshots. I pressed my body to the gravel, the hot road burning my stomach through my shirt, and covered my head.

If I got shot or caught, who would find Coby? My legs screamed at me to run, but if I did and Brooks and his regiment were killed, then nobody would be left to help me.

I crawled on all fours to the edge of the car, then brought my feet under me in a crouch and readied my gun. I was in a perfect position to do some damage. I had to help.

My muscles flexed, ready to jump, but I had a moment of hesitation. What if Brooks and his regiment weren't the good guys? I didn't even really know who they were or where they were from and I might have made enemies out of them by not telling them about my stockpile. I knew they suspected I was hiding something.

Then I thought,
They're the people who are helping me get Coby back,
and I pushed away all my doubts.

In my mind, I was at the shooting range with Dad whispering in my ear.
Don't flinch,
he'd tell me.
Not even for a second. Strengthen, keep your eyes open and
squeeze
. Focus.

Focus,
I told myself.

I pivoted around the car and took everything in at once. The remaining three soldiers were ducking behind their hummer. They hadn't seen me yet. One woman, two men. I picked the one closest to me. The woman.

She's not a woman
, I told myself.
She's a target.
I put a bullseye on her, right over her white gauze mask, and took aim. Finger on the trigger. Round in the chamber. Inhale. Exhale and
squeeze
. The kickback jolted my arm, but I was a practiced shot and didn't flinch. The woman went down.

The two men hit the ground and my next shots flew wild, but Brooks and Lonnie were running in from out of nowhere and my cover was blown and I had to get out of sight. I threw my body back behind the SUV in time for a bullet to cut the air above me.

I wanted so badly to lie there in the gravel and close my eyes and wait for it all to end, but I knew I couldn't. The gunshots hadn't stopped. I crawled around the tire on my belly to peek under the car.

Brooks and Lonnie were gone again. They must have retreated back behind their wall. One of the soldiers knelt at the side of the woman that I'd shot, and he was screaming the kind of scream that I'd only heard in horror movies before. The kind that's ripped from a person's soul.

The ringing in my ears got louder and it felt as if the ground was ripped out from under me. My heart fell into my belly like I was falling. I knew, in that moment, that I'd killed the woman.

As I focused back in on the hummer, a set of feet crept into my line of vision. Brooks. He was on the far side of the soldiers' hummer, trying to sneak up on them. But the man who was kneeling at my victim's side was close enough to the ground to see the extra set of feet.

I knew it. I saw the moment when the soldier spotted him. I didn't think. My legs pushed me off the pavement, gun at the ready, and I fired at the exact moment that the soldier started to stand.

Brooks jumped out and the two men fell. I didn't see which of our shots brought them down.

My legs couldn't hold me anymore. I crashed to the ground, and my eyes fluttered closed, as I sank into oblivion.

Waking up was like coming out of a fog.

My head pounded like someone had driven over my skull with an eighteen-wheeler, my ears were ringing and my arms burned like I'd been skinned. I cracked my eyes open, the lids sticky with a crust that filled their corners, and was met with the gray light of dawn.

Squinting through the gloom, I could just make out the outline of a dresser and a patchwork quilt hanging in place of a wall. The ceiling was towering, crisscrossed with metal beams. I sat up in Brooks' bed and groaned, cradling my head.

In romance novels, the heroine always wakes up naked and fresh in the tall, dark and handsome man's bed, her hunk standing over her and holding a silver platter with a hot breakfast. No such luck for me. I was fully clothed, alone, caked with blood and reeking.

Then the images came back to me — crouched behind the SUV, my pistol with that woman in its sights.

My hand curled reflexively around the grip of a gun that wasn't there, and my biceps clenched in memory of the kickback that felt like it was still ringing in my bones. I closed my eyes again, wishing I could sink into the bed and disappear forever.

All those hours at the shooting range couldn't have possibly prepared me for what I was feeling: a bottomless pit of guilt. Swirling in that pit was shame, horror and — worst of all — a twinge of relief. Until I remembered why I did it.

I didn't have a choice. They would have killed me. They would have killed Brooks. They would have taken from me any chance I had of getting my brother back and piecing my family together again.

But what about
their
families?

I squashed that thought, torched it and buried its ashes.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I looked around and spotted a bottle of water.
Hallelujah!
I guzzled it down, then stopped and took a gasping breath as the water sloshed in my empty stomach. I was
starving.
I reached into my back pocket, grabbed the smashed granola bar that I'd stashed there and ate it in three bites. My stomach quieted a little.

I trudged out of the bedroom and made my way into the middle of the warehouse, where Brooks and his brigade were sitting and eating frosted granola bars. Strawberry ones, by the look of it. I hated them all.

Jackson sat on the vomit-colored green couch with Lu beside him, and Lonnie sat across from them. Between them, on the battered old coffee table, was a chessboard. Lonnie played white and Jackson played black.

Lonnie was getting his ass handed to him.

Brooks lounged in his overstuffed recliner, staring at the game with an amused expression. I tried to catch his eye as I walked closer, but he didn't look at me. Why did he keep letting me sleep in his bed?

“Checkmate,” Jackson said. Lonnie groaned and collapsed theatrically back in his chair.

Jackson looked up as I sat gingerly on my rickety wooden chair.

“Feeling better?”

I gave him a fake smile and said, “Yeah, lots, thanks so much for asking.”

“Good,” he said. “Then maybe you can help us figure something out. McKenzie told you about our last order?”

“The order that told y'all to shoot civilians?” He nodded. I glanced at Brooks for a second, unsure if I should say anything. His face was blank. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “Brooks told me about it.”

“There was a lot of talk about the greater good when we got that order. Containment, treatment, that kind of thing. A few brigades deserted, like ours. But most of them stayed.” Jackson shrugged. “The point is, a lot of soldiers just accepted it. People were dropping like flies, and the soldiers were scared. The government used that fear to turn civilians into our enemies. A bunch of people were relieved just to have an enemy they could actually point a gun at.”

Goosebumps spread up my arms. “Twisted.”

His answering smile made my stomach flip. Who could
smile
at something like that?

“There's something that I can't figure out, though,” Jackson continued. “McKenzie says that when your house was raided, they didn't kill your brother. Though it's clear he resisted.”

“He's
eight.”

Jackson waved his hand like it didn't matter. “And I wonder why it took them so long to secure your neighborhood? Before our brigade left, all the residential areas were reported as secure. But your neighborhood was, apparently, left untouched.”

That was new information. I'd never wondered why no one bothered me and Coby at our house, but now that I saw the kind of people out in the world, it seemed unbelievable that we were left alone for so long. I worked in the greenhouse every day for months, believing the world was deserted and dead, but it was actually much more crowded than I'd thought.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I'm saying that we think there's something you aren't telling us. That greenhouse in your backyard was impressive, but obviously mismanaged. The food in your pantry wasn't nearly enough to support two people for any amount of time. You told Brooks that you hadn't left home in months, so we know the food wasn't a recent acquisition.”

I thought fast. “We had lots of fish. And the potatoes were growing fine!” No, they weren't.

“So you survived on fish meat and potatoes for nine months? I doubt it.” He shook his head. “I'm not
too
worried about your food, Cora Jane. What I wanna know is who you are.”

“No one.”

He continued like I didn't even say anything. “That was a pretty elaborate set up in your backyard. You said your dad built it?” I nodded. “And then the soldiers took your brother instead of killing him when they raided your house, even though he resisted, something I haven't heard of happening in months. And then, coincidence of coincidences, we get tailed by a patrol as we leave. So are you no one?”

I took a deep breath to steady my racing heart. “Look, the greenhouse was just a stupid hobby of my dad's. It came in handy after the virus, yeah, but that doesn't mean anything.” He didn't look convinced. I clenched my hands to stop their trembling. “You're overreacting. It's not a big deal. All I want to do is find my brother.”

He looked at me closely for a few minutes, searching my face for the truth. But the truth was he brought up some really good questions. I just didn't have any answers for him.

Lu leaned forward.

“Do you play?” she asked, gesturing to the chessboard. I raised my brows. They didn't need to know that was I in the chess club in middle school or that I was the Southeastern champion in eighth grade.

I shrugged. “I know how.”

“One game,” Lu said. “If you win,” she paused and gave the wager a little thought, “you can have my lunch rations for breakfast.”

Okay, that made things interesting. “And if you win?”

“Your stockpile.”

My breath caught. If I refused, that'd be as good as admitting that I'd been lying. They might not know exactly where my hoard was, but if they put their minds to it, they could find it. They'd been to my house. They had to know it was there somewhere.

“I don't have a stockpile.”

“Then you have nothing to lose,” she countered.

I rubbed my sweaty palms against my pants. I was confident in my skills, but I was also more than a little rusty. Thinking back, it'd been almost year since I'd played at all. I'd caught a glance at the board earlier, and Jackson was good, but I didn't have any idea about Lu. Was it worth the risk?

Did I even have a choice?

“What if I don't want to play?” I asked.

“Then you're free to leave,” Lu said smoothly. “But good luck getting someone else to help you find your brother.”

I took a deep breath.

“Make it dinner, too,” I said, forcing myself to smile
.

“Done,” she said.

Lonnie jumped up and offered me his chair with a gallant flourish and a bow. “Madame,” he said, his mouth curving in a Cheshire cat smile. I laughed nervously, thanked him and took the seat. He walked around the coffee table and sat on Jackson's other side.

Lu reset the board and graciously offered to be black. Which meant, as white, I'd get to go first. I declined. Damned if I'd fall for that. She raised her brows but didn't argue.

Chess is psychological warfare. Objective: beat the brains out of your opponent without laying a finger on them. My strategy: attack is everything. Stay on the offensive. My dad's was the total opposite. Our chess matches could go on for days.

It only took a few minutes to realize Lu was better than me. Every time I thought I had her cornered,
bam!
She'd turn it around on me with a move I'd never seen coming. I needed to rethink my strategy. Lu wasn't an offensive or defensive player. She was a trapper.

Ten minutes into the game, I'd taken a few of her pawns and both of her bishops and she'd taken way too many of my pawns and a knight. That's when Brooks started speaking.

“If you want to know a person,” he said, “watch them play chess.”

“Oh come on, Brooks,” Jackson said. “Not this shit again.”

Damn. Lu's queen took my other knight. A little unconventional to be so loose with the queen, but I could adapt. I looked up at Brooks. “What do you mean?”

Jackson walked outside, muttering about wasted time.

Brooks ignored him. “Symbolism,” he said, gesturing to the board. “Take your knights, for example. In medieval times, knights errant would wander kingdoms, never settling in one place. They represent freedom. Your independence. But stop paying attention for even a second and they'll be taken by a pawn.”

My cheeks flushed. That was what happened to my first knight. Not my fault! I was rusty. In my head, farmers with pitchforks knocked two grand knights on black horses from their saddles.

I looked up at Brooks with a scowl, but he just shrugged. “Your knights were lost to overconfidence.” My blush deepened.

Lu nabbed another one of my pawns. I only had two left. I puffed out my cheeks in frustration and looked up to Brooks. “What do the pawns stand for?” Brooks smiled, happy with the attention.

“Think about the pieces in terms of their literal meaning,” Brooks said, picking up one of the pawns Lu had taken from me. “The pawns were peasants or slaves, possessions of the king and queen. So they're your possessions. Like your food, Cora Jane.”

I decided not to respond to that. He was clearly wrong, and I needed to focus.

“Rooks are castle walls surrounding you.” Brooks continued. “They represent your family.”