Broken Tide | Book 5 | Storm Surge

by Richardson, Marcus

  Darien’s blood ran cold. “You realize we’ve been taking stuff out of your house for a couple days now, right?”

  The old man coughed, then chuckled. “I know, but I said it was for people breakin’ in, not using the door…like a civilized person.”

  “I…you blew up your own house?”

  Marty smiled, and his face took on the aspect of a demon, all angles and highlights and teeth set in a rictus of evil intent. “Well…yeah…but I bet it was real pretty.” He sighed. “I’ll miss that deck, though.”

  “The…the deck?” asked Darien. He grinned and shook his head. “You’re one scary old man, you know that?”

  Marty snorted. “I really liked that deck.”

  Chapter 25

  Bees Landing Subdivision

  Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina

  Two of Cisco's men joined him in the observation room, as they stared out the open, broken window toward the Lavelle house across the street. "What you want us to do?”

  "I think we lost the other guys…looks like a crater over there,” muttered the second one.

  "It doesn't matter!" Cisco roared as one hand chopped at the air in frustration. The gesture silenced the babbling idiots. "I'll stay up here with the scoped rifle. You guys get going and attack that house!"

  The two men looked at each other. "You mean you want us to go out there…by ourselves …to attack?"

  "What's the problem?" Cisco snarled as he rounded on the two men. They both shrank with fear and took a step back. Cisco didn't give them the opportunity to flee. He lunged forward and grabbed one by a fistful of his shirt and yanked him forward. At the same time, he drew his knife and placed it under the man's throat. "You trying to chicken out on me?"

  The man shook his head left and right and raised both hands. “N-n-n-no! No! It's just that…” he stuttered and turned his head to the side to avoid the knife pressed at his throat.

  "Look, when we started this, the plan was to have two groups,” his partner said quickly as he stepped closer to Cisco with both hands up. "We're just not…I don't think we're ready or good enough to go after that house by ourselves…”

  "Who's the one in charge here?" Cisco growled when neither one of them answered. He shouted in the first man's face. "I said, who's in charge?”

  "You are!" they both yelled in panicked unity.

  "That's right!" Cisco bellowed as he shoved the first man. The man tripped on his own feet and fell on his backside. "And don't you forget it!” Cisco said as he jabbed the knife in the direction of the fallen man. "If I have to, I’ll kill you all myself! We had a plan, and we’re sticking to it!"

  The rest of the team came upstairs to witness the shouting match.

  "What are you idiots looking at? You know the drill! Get downstairs and get across that street! They're more distracted now than ever—they’re probably all trying to figure out what happened next door. We could use this to our advantage, but only if we move quickly! So go!"

  One of the late arrivals had the good sense to grab his buddy. "You heard the man, let's go!" he said with an excited look on his face. His eyes gleamed with religious zeal as he turned and nodded to Cisco. "I got your back on this, brother!"

  Cisco pointed at him. “I won't forget this.”

  A broad smile erupted on the man's pockmarked face. He turned to the others and his smile turned into a snarl. "Go! Move—this is our chance!"

  The others practically dragged the man on the floor out of the room until he got his feet under him and stood. They cast a few wary glances at Cisco, then submitted to the browbeating from their partner. Eventually Cisco was left on the upper floor alone.

  He leaned against the open window and let the wind howling around the corner of the house soothe his heated spirits. The rain felt good as it splattered against his skin. He wiped his face, shook off the frustration that had been building since they left camp, and settled himself in front of the window. He pulled up his rifle and looked at the scope. He wasn't a soldier, but even he knew that with the wind tearing across the space between the two houses, his aim would probably be off when he pulled the trigger.

  The door slammed several times downstairs, and eventually he spotted his ragtag group of commandos making their way cautiously across the driveway. Cisco clenched his jaw. If he had a radio, he would've screamed at them to move faster. Leapfrogging as they were from tree to tree, running back and forth across the driveway, they looked like an incompetent troop of Boy Scouts trying to pick up litter on the side of the road. Cisco put his face in his hands for a moment and complained silently about the fools he'd surrounded himself with.

  When he looked up, his assault team had barely made it to the road. The last man in line, his enforcer, staggered under a particularly strong gust of wind and went to one knee. It took a second for him to get up, but he shoved those in front of him, and they sprinted across the road and into the ditch in Lavelle's front yard.

  "Almost there…” Cisco muttered as he settled himself behind the rifle, brought his cheek to the stock, and checked his sight picture.

  Jenkins was nowhere to be found, but that didn't overly concern Cisco. He’d instructed the man to stay well-hidden to the north until it was time to open fire. With any luck, his second-in-command had his entire group of men just on the other side of the tree line. The same trees that whipped back and forth over the roof of Lavelle's house in the distance, barely visible through the sheets of rain.

  The storm itself was incredible—Cisco couldn't imagine seeing something so wicked up close. The last hurricane he'd lived through had been when he was incarcerated in Horry County’s JRL Detention Center, laughing it up with the other inmates as the facility went on lockdown for 48 hours. They’d been given extra rations, and because they were kept inside the building, had been given extra time in the entertainment rooms to watch TV—while the power had held.

  Then, he’d listened to the wind as a muffled roar on the other side of the thick cinderblock walls that housed the penitentiary. Now, the wind was easily twice as powerful as the other storm, and it screamed at him just on the other side of thin residential walls. Every now and then a strong gust hit the house, and he swore he felt the whole thing move. With every creak and groan of the walls and ceiling, Cisco had to fight the urge to look up, half-expecting it to tear away and fly off at any second.

  Movement at the edge of the ditch inside the scope’s field of view pulled his thoughts back to the present. Cisco grunted and pulled the rifle tighter to his shoulder as he watched his men rise up from the ditch in a ragged line and make their way—reluctantly, it seemed—across the yard to the front door.

  "What are you doing?" he grumbled. "Don't go to the freaking front door!" he yelled as he pulled his face away from the scope. It was no use. His voice was swallowed by the wind as soon as it left the window. His men had no hope of hearing anything he might yell.

  For a brief moment, panic struck Cisco. If the wind was this loud, would Jenkins even hear a gunshot? Would he know that the signal to start the attack had even been given? Cisco looked down at the rifle in his hands. It was just a simple AR, which produced a fair amount of noise, but it was nothing like that cannon the old man had fired during their initial attack a few weeks back. When Lopez had been hit and…

  Cisco clenched his eyes tight and smashed his fist into the wet windowsill. No! No time to think about that right now. It's time to get payback for that.

  He opened his eyes and watched in horror as his men spread out around the front of the house. One took each corner, and the other two took shelter on the porch. He had no idea what they were up to but knew that if they slipped around the sides of the house—where the other team was supposed to have been had the neighbors house not exploded—he wouldn't be able to cover them.

  "No—don't go that way! You idiot!"

  Chapter 26

  Braaten Forest Preserve

  Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina

  Cami s
tarted when the bright light appeared through the woods. A few moments later, a deafening roar broke through the constant droning of the wind. Even the lightning paled in comparison to what looked like the sun rising through the trees a little south of her.

  She ducked behind a tree to get out of the wind. “What in the world?”

  In seconds, the flash was gone and the sound was an echo of a memory, swallowed by the vengeful hurricane as it tried to drown her in rain[MP16]. Cami leaned around the tree and peered into the storm. Whatever it was, the flash had been big and bright. And it had come from the direction of Bee’s Landing.

  She leaned against the tree and frowned. Had something exploded? What could have caused a fireball like that? She closed her eyes and forced down the worry over Amber’s safety that boiled up inside her.

  “Whatever happened, happened. I can’t do anything about it right now except get home…”

  Cami took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and stepped around the tree, pushing forward into the storm once more.

  Chapter 27

  Lavelle Homestead

  Bee’s Landing Subdivision

  Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina

  Darien was loading a second magazine for his rifle when Rufus limped in from the front room. "Hey, there's somebody out on the porch,” he warned in a low voice.

  Darien looked up. "What do you mean, somebody's on the porch?"

  Rufus shrugged, then winced as the half-healed cuts to his face and neck stretched his skin tight. "Just what I said—I heard some thumpin’ around out there and took a peek through the plywood. Can't tell much about them, but there's somebody out there. More than one, I think."

  "They say anything?" Darien said as he stood from the kitchen table.

  Rufus shook his head and his thick dreadlocks flopped against his shoulder. "Nope. But the wind’s so loud over on that side of the house, I probably wouldn’t be able to hear nothin’ unless they yelled."

  Footsteps thundered down the main stairs, and Darien snatched his rifle off the table, then stuffed a spare mag into his pocket. He met Harriet as she descended the steps. "Darien—” she began in a panicked whisper.

  "I know," he whispered back. “There's somebody on the front porch. Maybe two. I need you to get back upstairs and spread the word—“

  “No, that's not what I was gonna say—there's somebody on the side of the house!"

  "What?" Darien asked sharply. “Where?”

  "Mia said she saw somebody sneak around the side of the house over there," Harriet said as she pointed with a trembling hand to the north side of the house, near the garage.

  "Okay, I think I know what’s going on. Quick—get back upstairs and tell everybody the attack has started. You know what to do?"

  Harriet's eyes grew wide, and she swallowed, then licked her lips. "I do."

  Darien grabbed the back of her head and kissed her hard. "Good. Get going!” he turned and gave her a gentle nudge. With a smile over her shoulder, she sprinted up the steps.

  Darien turned away immediately and made his way into the front room. Rufus waited for him, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the slit in the plywood where a thin stream of rainwater shot through the opening. "Listen up," he said to Rufus and the other men in the room. "I think Cisco’s making a move. They spotted somebody on the north side of the house over by the garage, and we got someone on the front porch, too.”

  "Hot diggity, here we go," Rufus said, a sudden smile spreading across his face.

  Darien nodded, then pointed at two of the volunteers. "I need you guys to get into the redoubt. Think you two can handle the wind?"

  The men looked at each other and then grinned. "Ain't looking nearly so bad as it was this morning. I reckon we can handle it."

  "Good—hold your fire till I give the command. If they shoot, light ‘em up."

  The men nodded, grinned, and headed off to the laundry room.

  "What do you want me to do?" Rufus asked.

  "I need you to sit tight—watch and report anything you see through that slit. We got somebody watching the front door, and you’re the backup."

  Rufus sighed. "Not very exciting, but all right."

  Darien left him and sprinted over toward the door to the garage. Mitch and Amber stood huddled together as they guarded the portal into the main storeroom on the ground floor. "It's time, guys. I need you two to get into the garage and take up positions. There’s somebody sneaking around the north side of the house, and we got a couple more on the front porch."

  Mitch nodded. "I heard. We're ready."

  Amber looked at Mitch, then turned her steely gaze on Darien. She didn't say anything, but the muscles in her jaw were taut as she gave a brisk nod.

  Darien reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's gonna be okay." The simple reassurance worked. Her shoulders relaxed a little, and the barest hint of a smile curled up one corner of her mouth. It reminded him very much of Cami.

  "Mitch," he said to the wiry young man before him. "Steady."

  The black-haired youth grinned behind his bushy beard and nodded. They opened the door, then stepped into the noisy garage. The wind made the thin aluminum rolling door flex like the side of a giant beast. Darien stood there for a moment and covered them as they got into position. A shadow passed by the window on the north side of the house that had been shuttered. The only way Darien knew that someone was out there was the overall light coming through the peephole dimmed briefly, then brightened. He waved a hand, and Mitch turned and pointed at the window, then nodded.

  Darien reached just inside the garage and picked up a box of MREs, then propped the door open. He’d only been in the garage once since Cami disappeared. But that one time had told him if nothing else, the garage was worth half of the people in the house giving their lives in defense. There was enough food in there to support at least 10 people for a few months.

  He promised himself to have a long talk with Cami about hoarding supplies and keeping him—the purported co-leader of the neighborhood—out of the loop. But that would have to wait until after they knew they were going to survive. And they rescued her.

  A tingle of fear crept between his shoulder blades. If this was Cisco's move, then the chances were pretty good that Marty's house exploded because Cisco was attempting to flank them.

  But why come from the east side of the house? If anything, Darien had anticipated that Cisco would attack from the west, coming straight out of the woods. He didn't think the ex-con had enough strategic thinking to use a flanking maneuver and encircle the defenders. Then again, Darien admitted to himself, he'd never given Cisco credit for being able to capture a National Guard unit and take command of the gaggle of misfits who pretended to be soldiers…and then nearly conquer Bee’s Landing.

  "I'm not going to underestimate you again…” he muttered to himself as he took up position at the back door. He checked the load in the chromed shotgun that belonged to Lavelle’s husband. It was fully loaded with double ought buck.

  He peeked out the slit through the plywood sheathing and could just barely see one of the men he’d positioned in the redoubt, hunkered down below the log wall, laughing as he talked with his partner[MP17].

  “Shut up,” Darien hissed. “You’re going to give away your position!”

  The men appeared sufficiently mollified, and settled down to ride out the storm in silence.

  Darien scanned what he could of the world beyond the redoubt. The rain and wind had turned everything into a foggy mess, made even more dim by the thick cloud cover. “What a mess.” He frowned. If Cisco was going to attack, he wouldn’t see it coming. Darien adjusted his grip on the shotgun. He was more certain than ever that Cisco was out there somewhere, slinking closer, ready to strike.

  “Come on, already, you psycho…let’s get this over with!”

  Chapter 28

  Braaten Forest Preserve

  Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina

  Cami stared tow
ard home—that had been the direction of the fireball that lit up the woods to the southeast. What had happened, she couldn’t guess, but fear gnawed at her stomach. Whatever it was, she was sure Cisco had a hand in it. She had to move faster. Amber might very well be in danger.

  Cami pushed off from the tree she’d been hiding behind, clutched the muddy rifle to her chest and struggled forward through the wind and the leaves and the branches. She hadn’t gone 10 feet and was halfway to the next tree when she saw two shapes loom up out of the wall of rain in the distance. Unable to make it to the next tree before they could see her, Cami dropped to the ground and brought her rifle up. The next man in line must've found her. She had no choice now but to shoot it out. Perhaps if she remained still while they approached, she could even the odds by taking them by surprise.

  Her finger slipped behind the trigger guard and gently pressed the cold metal of the curved trigger. Gently, ever so slowly, she squeezed her index finger, applying more and more pressure to the trigger as she slowed her breathing. She lined up the iron sights of her rifle on the man to her left but waited until he grew a little closer. The man limped slightly, which made her pause. She didn't recall any of hunters limping when she'd started tracking the group from Cisco's camp.

  A gust of wind hit the men, and they staggered to their right, and in the backwash of the wind, a gap in the rain appeared and his features materialized. Cami gasped.

  Cami slipped her finger out of the trigger guard assembly as quickly as she could and shifted the rifle to point in a safe direction as all the breath in her body escaped in one rush. She climbed to her feet, which surprised the two men in front of her to the point that they drew their weapons.

  "Gary!" Cami said with relief.