Road To Babylon | Book 10 | 100 Deep

by Sisavath, Sam

  She stared at him.

  He returned it.

  “Seriously,” Keo said.

  Suzanna sighed and seemed to relax a bit. Seemed.

  Then, blinking at him, “I think I’m going to faint.”

  “What?”

  “I think I’m going—” she said, before the M4 lowered and she collapsed to the cave floor with a dull and slightly echoey thump.

  Keo slowly stood up and looked down at her body. She lay unmoving on the damp ground. She might have even been dead, for all he knew. Keo was a bit hesitant to reach down and feel for a pulse. A part of him thought she might be playing possum.

  “Hey,” Keo said.

  She didn’t respond. He couldn’t even tell if her eyes were still open. The way she was lying, though, didn’t appear to be someone who was faking it.

  “Well, that was…weird,” Keo said, his own voice echoing back at him.

  She was still breathing, albeit weakly. The physical strain of running for their lives through the woods had a lot to do with that. Her side wound, which hadn’t been all that well treated by Toby the not-really-a-medic medic had opened back up and was bleeding again. Fortunately, the hole in her thigh was a little better wrapped. Not all that much better, but a little better.

  Keo didn’t have a lot on him to treat her injuries, and the best he could do was tighten the bandages around her body. He was more than a little afraid of infection. That was, after all, the only thing more deadly to a soldier on the battlefield than a bullet. Right now, Suzanna was definitely a soldier.

  It didn’t escape him that he still didn’t know her real name, even though she knew his. Yeah, he probably should have kept that one to himself in case she was captured again, and he right alongside her.

  Shoulda, woulda, coulda, pal.

  He spent the rest of the night listening to the crickets and the owls and every other woodland creature that called this patch of Georgian land home moving around with impunity outside the cave. He also kept a mindful ear open for anything that could have been coming from behind them. He wasn’t entirely sure how deep they were in the side of the hill; for all he knew, there could be another kilometer or two back there. All he was certain of was that it was pretty damn dark back there, and just about anything could be lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce.

  Things like, say, ghouls.

  Don’t let there be ghouls back there. I don’t need the headache right now.

  His biggest comfort was that he still couldn’t detect the telltale signs of undead things. Like, say, a horrid stench that was reminiscent of spoiled garbage and rotting flesh. Keo had, for good and ill (but mostly ill) come face-to-face with more of the creatures than most people should have.

  Suzanna was snoring on the floor next to him while Keo sat with his back against the rough wall. The air was as stale now as it’d been when he first sniffed it, and there was a general wetness around him that he couldn’t quite figure out the origins of. He kept one eye on the opening about thirty meters to his right and the other on the pitch-black darkness of the cave’s interior on his left.

  It was nerve-wracking, to say the least, waiting for someone to pop up on one side and something to do likewise on the other. He’d been in much worse spots, that much was for sure. At least he wasn’t sitting there naked or weaponless.

  Yeah, at least there’s that.

  About two hours after midnight, Keo closed his eyes to rest for a bit and ended up falling asleep.

  It was a big mistake, but he wouldn’t know that until he woke up.

  Keo opened his eyes to sunlight…

  …and two scrawny kids trying to decide whether to shoot him or not.

  He’d definitely had better mornings, that was for damn sure.

  “Shoot him.”

  “Why?”

  “Look at that scar.”

  “What about it?”

  “That’s one ugly scar.”

  “So? You want me to shoot him because he has a scar?”

  “You need a better reason?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “You’re so demanding.”

  “And you’re such a douche.”

  “Hey, shut up, I think he’s awake.”

  “So he is.”

  Keo was still lying on the same damp floor he’d lain down on last night, staring up at the long barrel of a bolt-action hunting rifle that had a large scope mounted on top. Not that the scrawny kid behind the weapon needed such a huge optic to make sure he put a round through Keo’s forehead. There was only about a foot between his face and the gun.

  Jesus, he’d fallen asleep last night without realizing it. Had he been that tired? He had to be. What was the other explanation? Maybe that he was getting old and wasn’t as young or spry as he used to be.

  Definitely that one.

  “Don’t listen to the other guy; don’t shoot,” Keo said to the kid holding the gun in front of him.

  Scrawny grinned. He couldn’t have been more than 17, and wearing something that almost looked like a ghillie suit, but wasn’t quite one. If Keo didn’t know better, he’d think the kid had attempted to put one together but either gave up halfway or this was the best he could do.

  His partner was taller but just as thin and young. Guy number two was also wearing a similar—with some minor differences—outfit. Leaves poked out from their headgear, and their faces were smeared with black and green camo paint. Like their attempts at ghillie suits, the paint job didn’t look very good.

  The cave had brightened up, with sunlight pouring in from behind the second scrawny guy to Keo’s left. The one with the rifle was to his right. Keo turned his head slightly to check on Suzanna, but she wasn’t there.

  “What happened to Suzanna?” he asked the scrawny kid with the rifle.

  “Who’s Suzanna?” Scrawny #1 said.

  “The girl in here with me.”

  “You mean Cody?”

  “I don’t know. Is that her name?”

  “Why’d you call her Suzanna?” Scrawny #2 asked.

  Keo looked over at the other kid. He didn’t have to think too much about where his MP5 was. Or the Beretta that was no longer in his right holster. The kids—and that was all they were—had taken his weapons.

  “I didn’t know her name,” Keo said to Scrawny #1. “So it’s Cody?”

  “That’s right,” the kid said. He hadn’t moved his rifle even a little bit from Keo’s face. His forefinger was also on the trigger guard, against the trigger, and at this range…

  “She’s okay?” Keo asked.

  “Dunno,” Scrawny #2 said. He was leaning back against the cave wall, looking bored with the whole thing.

  The morning sunlight had brightened up the cave to such a degree that Keo could now see just about everything around him. Not that there was a whole lot to look at. It was just a cave, after all. Once you’ve seen one, you’d seen them all.

  Keo didn’t need the two teens to tell him what had happened while he was sleeping. It was pretty obvious. Someone—likely the Arrowheads—had shown up and taken Cody, a.k.a. Suzanna, away. She’d looked pretty bad last night, and that was with barely any lights to see with. How did she look this morning?

  As to why he was still here, looking up at two kids that were debating the merits of shooting him, Keo wasn’t entirely sure.

  “I saved her life, you know,” he said to Scrawny #1.

  He’d recognized the kid’s voice as the one that wasn’t enthusiastic about shooting him. Scrawny #2 was the asshole that wanted to put an end to his existence while he slept.

  “Did you?” Scrawny said. He didn’t look convinced.

  “Yeah.”

  “She looked pretty bad when we found her.”

  “I didn’t do that. But I kept it from being worse.”

  “What about the others?” Scrawny #2 said.

  Keo was going to ask “Others who?” when he figured it out.

  The others were the four that Harvey’s men had sl
aughtered on the road yesterday.

  “I didn’t do that, either,” Keo said.

  “Man, you’re all kinds of innocent, aren’t you?” Scrawny #2 said.

  Keo didn’t like the kid’s tone, but he did like the lack of aggression he was getting from Scrawny #1. That is, if you could call pointing a rifle at someone and within a hair’s breadth of pulling the trigger as non-aggression. Right now, though, Keo would take whatever he could get.

  Beggars can’t be choosers, and all that jazz.

  Keo was about to plead his case some more when a radio squawked, and a male voice said, “Mick and Pick, come in.”

  Mick and Pick? Keo thought as he watched Scrawny #2 reach behind his waist and produce a radio.

  Scrawny #2 pressed the transmit lever. “Go for Mick.”

  “Is he still alive?” the male voice asked through the radio.

  “That depends,” the kid named Mick said.

  “Stop fucking around. Is he still alive or not?”

  “He is, sir. I was telling Pick to shoot him, but Pick’s being a real pussy about it.”

  Pick, the oddly-named other Scrawny, snorted but didn’t look all that offended. Keo had a feeling this was a thing between them. Bad sense of humor and awful paint jobs, not to mention half-assed ghillie suits.

  “Bring him in,” the male voice on the radio said.

  “You sure, sir?” Mick asked. “He’s pretty ugly.”

  “Just bring him in, dammit.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mick put his radio away and nodded at Pick. “You heard the man.”

  Pick took a quick step back from Keo and lowered his rifle halfway. “Get up.”

  Keo got up from the ground. Wet dirt fell off his clothes as he did so. He brushed at his pants legs.

  “Let’s go,” Mick said and began walking toward the cave opening.

  Keo followed. “Where we going, boys?”

  “Home,” Pick said from behind him.

  “Goody. I always wanted to go home.”

  “I guess this is your lucky day then, huh?”

  “That’s me. Always lucky.” He glanced at Pick walking after him. “So your name’s Pick, huh?”

  “That’s right,” the kid said. “What of it?”

  “It’s an unusual name.”

  Pick shrugged. “What can I say? Everything else was taken.”

  Keo grinned and thought, Now, where have I heard that before?

  Twelve

  Keo liked Pick but didn’t care all that much for Mick. He wondered if the two had come up with those names themselves or if someone else had given them to them. It would have been one hell of an amazing coincidence if those were their real names and they just happened to end up partners in crime all the way out here. Or partners in scouts, which was really what they looked like with their half-there ghillie suits. They didn’t just have the appearance of kids that spent an awful lot of time in the woods, they smelled like it, too. Keo hadn’t noticed the latter until they were out in the open air and beyond the cave’s stale atmosphere.

  “What’s the matter?” Pick asked from somewhere behind him.

  The kid was close enough that Keo thought he could pull the trigger and blow a hole in Keo’s back without trying, but just far enough that Keo didn’t have any confidence he could do the spin-and-grab move. Not that he was even considering it, but, well, it would have been nice if he’d had the option. Mick, the one Keo didn’t like all that much, was leading the way. He was taller than Pick, but just as lacking in size.

  The three of them had left the cave behind and were now moving through the woods, taking the sloping hillside in order to reach another road that would lead them into Arrowhead. The boys knew where they were going. Not that Keo had any doubts.

  It was bright outside, warm rays of sunlight piercing through the tree canopies above them. Keo wasn’t sure where he and Suzanna had ended up last night and still didn’t have a clue this morning. But he could sniff cooking fires in the distance and see wisps of smoke between the thick walls of foliage that surrounded them like hives.

  It was way too green in here for his liking. Keo had never been especially fond of the woods. Not that he couldn’t survive in them. He’d had to do that on more than one occasion. But, given the choice, he’d take urban concrete any day of the week.

  The only sounds were their boots against the soft, and at parts, muddy ground. That, and whenever Keo stepped on a branch. The boys didn’t seem to have that trouble. It was almost as if they knew exactly where every single loose twig had fallen. That was impossible, of course. Or, at least, Keo liked to think so.

  “Make more noise, why doncha,” Pick said after Keo stepped on his fifth—or was that sixth?—twig and a snapping noise echoed, mingling in with the woodland creatures that loitered on tree limbs and scurried about in the bushes.

  “Sorry,” Keo said.

  He wasn’t, really, but it seemed like the thing to say. They hadn’t bothered to bind his hands or legs, probably because they didn’t want the hassle of carrying him back to town. That, and because they had all the guns and he… Well, he didn’t have much of anything, except the Falcons cap he was still wearing for some reason.

  “You ever heard of stealth?” Mick asked.

  “What’s that?” Keo said.

  “Stealth.”

  “Yeah. What’s that?”

  “You don’t know what stealth means? They don’t teach that at Chinese schools?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been to Chinese schools.”

  “I don’t think he’s Chinese, Mick,” Pick said from behind Keo.

  “What is he, then?” Mick asked.

  “Not Chinese.”

  “So what is he?”

  “Um, I’m right here, boys, you can ask me,” Keo said.

  “You’re not from around here, that’s for sure,” Pick said.

  Keo couldn’t help but smile to himself. That was something country people usually said to city folks in all the movies Danny forced him to watch back at Black Tide Island. It’d sounded extremely corny then and still did now.

  “No, I’m not,” Keo said. “What gave it away?”

  “A lot of things,” Pick said.

  “Like what?”

  “You being a Shaker and all, for one.”

  “I’m not a Shaker.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “Because it’s true.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Swear.”

  “Right.”

  Keo grinned. He wasn’t sure who was messing with whom now. “Guys, I swear I’m on your side.”

  That wasn’t technically true. Keo wasn’t really on anyone’s side at the moment. He was sent here on a mission that didn’t involve the Arrowhead folks. But here he was anyway, and it was up to him to make the best of it.

  “You can swear all you want, doesn’t make it true,” Mick said.

  “What’s it gonna take to convince you?” Keo asked.

  “It’s not us you have to convince,” Pick said.

  “Who, then?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  Keo remembered the voice on the radio. “The man you were talking to on the radio? Is that the head honcho I gotta talk to?”

  “Maybe,” Pick said.

  “Who was it?”

  “No one you need to know about,” Mick said.

  “Was it Horatio?”

  “Could be, might not be.”

  “That was Horatio,” Keo said with some certainty.

  Some faux certainty. He didn’t know what Horatio sounded like, never mind what the man looked like. His job was never supposed to go beyond the borders of Shaker Town, so Keo had never bothered with intel on the surrounding settlements.

  “So that’s where I’m going? To meet Horatio?” Keo asked.

  Pick chuckled behind him. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “What’s the other way?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  Keo di
dn’t particularly like the sound of how that was phrased. “I keep telling you, I’m not a Shaker.”

  “You can tell Horatio that,” Mick said.

  “So I am going to see Horatio.”

  Mick glanced over his shoulder at Keo, but didn’t say anything.

  Keo smiled. “You boys live here long?”

  “Here, where?” Pick said.

  “Arrowhead.”

  “Does forever count?”

  “Forever? Really?”

  “Mind as well be, considering we don’t remember any other place but here.”

  Might as well, Keo thought, knowing exactly what Lara would have said if she were here and heard the grammatical error.

  Of course he didn’t correct the kid. Pick—and likely Mick, too—wouldn’t have enjoyed anything resembling a well-rounded education all the way out here. The fact that they both knew how to survive off the land or were very comfortable around their weapons was all they needed to know.

  They had gone about five minutes from the cave and were still moving gradually down the slanted ground when they heard gunfire in the distance.

  Keo went down on one knee instinctively, Mick doing likewise in front of him. Keo glanced back and saw that Pick, about two meters away, had done the same thing.

  His eyes went to Pick’s weapons. The rifle was a no-go. Keo didn’t think he could wrestle it out of the kid’s hands; he looked scrawny, but he had a pretty good grip on it with both fingerless gloved hands.

  And the pistol…

  That wasn’t going to work, either. Keo couldn’t make out the handgun’s brand or model because it was hidden inside a holster with a flap over it.

  As if he could hear Keo’s thoughts, Pick looked over and narrowed his eyes.

  Keo grinned back.

  “Don’t try it,” the kid said.

  “Try what?” Keo said.

  “Uh huh.”

  “You’re being paranoid.”

  “Whatever, mister.”

  “I was just admiring your camo work.”

  “Oh, yeah? I did it myself.”

  I can tell, Keo thought.

  But he said, “Nice.”

  Keo wasn’t sure if Pick believed him or not. Maybe the kid was just humoring him.

  He turned to listen to the chaos going on in other parts of the forest instead.