by Brant, Jason
“Is that a body at his feet?” Lance squinted, holding a hand above his eyes. “I can’t tell. Can’t those idiots tell how far away we are?”
“That’s probably one of your people, Emily.” Cass glanced around the office. “Is there a gun up here? I want to shoot back. Maybe I’ll get lucky and snipe off one of their micro penises.”
“The windows up here don’t open.” Emily tapped on the glass. “Probably so executives wouldn’t jump from them when their companies collapsed.”
A muzzle flashed farther down the street from the Bandits. One of them dropped behind the barricade, disappearing from view. The others panicked, running toward their moving van. Two guys guarding the vehicle returned fire in the direction of the shooter, but they didn’t seem to see exactly where he was.
“Who the hell is out there?” Cass asked.
“Oh, shit.” Lance turned to her. “Wasn’t Doc Brown going out for some meds today?”
Cass sucked in a harsh breath. “I hope that’s not him.”
Rather than fight back, the remaining Bandits fled to their van and sped away, leaving their wounded comrade behind. Cass let out a sigh of relief. The last thing they needed was to have to go after Emmett.
“Check on Dragon.” Lance squeezed her hand. “I’ll go out and see what those idiots were doing.”
“Stop calling him Dra—you really have to screw with me at a time like this?” Cass wrenched her grip as tight as she could, smiled when he flinched. “And I’m coming with you.”
“With your back so screwed up, you’ll only slow me down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You almost gave yourself a hernia getting out of the chair.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re hunched over like Quasimodo.”
“Damn it, Lance. You’re such a pain in the ass.” Cass tried to stand straight, concentrating on not showing the pain zipping along her spine. She failed miserably. “Fine. But take Megan with you. I’d like to have at least one person out there who can shoot straight.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Stop saying ‘fine.’ It’s getting weird.” Lance gave her his crooked grin. After he planted a kiss on her forehead, he jogged out of the office. Cass watched him go, her pulse rising. She loved the man he’d become, but feared what would happen to him if he kept running into harm’s way.
“Are the two of you always that cute?” Emily asked.
Becky rolled her eyes so dramatically Cass thought they might fall into the back of her head.
“I am. He’s mostly just a bumbling fool, but I make him cuter when he’s around me.” Cass hobbled for the door. “I’m going to check on my kid. Have that phone book ready when I get back. It’s payback time.”
Without waiting for a response, Cass left the office and went to the elevator. The ride down seemed to take forever as she pondered what to do next. Her entire plan so far had consisted of going to the Bandits’ hideout and taking them out. How that would happen, she didn’t quite know.
After seeing them shoot up her new home, she knew she would have to move soon. Things were escalating faster than she’d expected.
When the elevator reached her floor, Cass walked through the space that had once consisted of cubicles and offices for an unknown company. Now the large rooms were converted into small apartments for couples and families. The middle space, where the office cubicles had sectioned off large swathes of the floor for depressed people to work in, was now divided into small bedrooms for single survivors who needed a cot and little else. Using the cubicle walls had made it rather easy to chop the space up in a more efficient manner for housing.
The area was vast, but difficult to navigate because of how many rooms they’d packed in. Most weren’t occupied yet since Emily wanted the lower floors filled in first, but it wouldn’t be long before they had other people on top of them soon. Assuming the current rate of survivors moving into The Light continued.
Cass, Lance, and Lincoln had rated a nice corner office that some big-wig executive had once occupied. It wasn’t enormous by any means, but it was larger than most of the other rooms. There was a divider between their bed and Lincoln’s. A movable closet on casters stood in one corner, an old beat-up nightstand in the other.
It was more comfortable than anything Cass had expected to find since they’d left the island. Emily had accommodated their group with the mostly uninhabited floor to help them get accustomed to the building. And as a thank-you for bringing Brandon and Charlie back alive.
Keeping their group together, and granting them a little privacy, went a long way toward their acclimation of the new environment. Cass hadn’t felt the need to wring someone’s neck since they got there. Until she met Becky a few minutes ago, anyway.
Before Cass made it to their room, she caught sight of Megan exiting the door to her bedroom, carrying Finn and Lincoln—one in each arm. She gave Cass a thank God look as they walked toward each other.
“What’s happening?” Megan asked. “I heard the gunshots and screaming, but I didn’t want to leave these two alone while I checked it out.”
“Momma!” Lincoln wriggled in Megan’s arms until she put him down. He sprinted over to Cass in his off-kilter running style, then plowed into her legs.
“Drag—Lincoln!” Cass’ eyes went wide as she realized what she’d almost said.
Megan laughed. “Lance has almost worn you down. You’ll be calling him Dragon in no time.”
“I’m going to kick his butt for this.” Cass looked down at her little man. “Were you good for Aunt Megan?”
Lincoln bobbed his head. He raised his arms toward her, opening and closing his hands, his sign for needing a pickup. “Joe, Joe!”
“Not right now. I have to talk to Aunt Megan. Finn will play G.I. Joes with you, okay?”
Finn also wriggled at the mention of Real American Heroes.
Megan barely had time to put him down before both boys took off toward the bedroom and disappeared inside. “So what happened out there? Emmett went out to search for medication a while ago. Now I’m freaking out because he isn’t back yet.”
“The Bandits showed up and took some shots at the building. They left a body outside, too, but nobody could tell who it was.” Cass saw the way Megan’s face blanched at the mention of the body. “Someone shot at The Bandits from behind and chased them away. I’m sure it was Emmett and Greg. Lance is checking it out now.”
“They left a body? Oh, God.” Megan speed-walked to the window on the far side of the floor. She glanced down at the barricade where the Bandits had left the body. “Is Lance going out there by himself?”
Cass followed her as fast as she could. “He was supposed to stop and get you on his way down. Guess he forgot in the twenty seconds he was in the elevator. Dumbass.”
Megan didn’t respond, just searched the city for her husband.
As they watched the area around the barricade, Cass caught movement in the street behind it. Someone moved toward the body. She inched closer to the glass, trying to recognize who was out there. “Is that Greg and Emmett?”
Megan closed her eyes, let out a long, trembling breath. “Thank God. When I heard the shooting…”
The sentence trailed off between them as they watched Greg approach the body resting atop a car. Even with the distance between them, Cass could tell he was distraught at the sight of it.
“Any idea who that is?” Megan asked.
“No.”
Greg scooped the body up a short time later, carried it away.
“What is he doing?” Cass kneaded her back again. “Why is he—”
“Oh, no.” Megan covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s Adam. Those bastards found Adam somehow!”
“What? How?”
“We left him in the middle of the woods, far away from King’s camp. There’s no way those idiots found him unless… unless they’re working with King now.”
“Maybe they’re
teaming up to take us out. They both have reasons to be seriously pissed off at us.”
“They must have followed our trail through the woods. We didn’t have time to take care of him like we should have.” Megan’s hand trembled as she lowered it from her face. “We should have buried him. I hated leaving him like that, but we were trying to find everyone else and he was already gone, and we thought—”
“You didn’t have a choice,” Cass said quietly. “You did everything you could.”
“They displayed him in the middle of the street like a grotesque calling card.” Megan’s features hardened as she watched Greg carry the body down a side street. “When are we going after them?”
“Soon. Really soon. We’re getting his address this morning. Then they’re going to pay for this. For everything.”
“What’s going on?” a small voice asked from behind them. “I heard shooting.”
Cass turned, spotted Lilith approaching from the other side of the floor. She had a hand wrapped under her swollen belly. Her eyes were red and watery from crying. She’d rarely stopped sobbing since Greg had delivered the news about her husband.
“The assholes who kidnapped us just took some shots at the building, but they’re gone now.” Cass moved to intercept her, not wanting Lilith to get a view of the street. Greg had carried the body away, but she didn’t know what he planned to do with it. It was better to keep Lilith away from the windows for a while.
Lilith recoiled at the mention of the men who’d abducted them.
“It’s okay.” Cass put her arm around Lilith’s shoulders. “They’re gone now. Can you watch the boys while we go downstairs to see if anyone needs our help?”
“I guess so.” Lilith let Cass guide her away from the window. “Have you seen Greg? He hasn’t come back yet.”
“We just did. He’s safe.”
8
The fatigue in Greg’s arms morphed into pain. Cramps twisted into his biceps and back. He pushed through the misery, refusing to put his friend down until he reached the park where he would bury him.
Tears blurred his vision as he stumbled down the sidewalk.
“Greg! Hold up,” a voice called from behind him.
“What?” Greg stopped and tried to turn around, but a stabbing pain cut through his lower back and he stumbled sidewise.
His feet caught underneath him.
Adam fell from his grasp.
Greg collapsed to the sidewalk.
The body plopped onto the concrete and rolled to its back, the eyeless orbitals staring blindly into the cloudy sky. Greg landed on his hip and elbow, the sidewalk splitting the skin on his arm.
He gaped at his friend.
And then he cried.
Days of guilt and hopelessness came crashing down on him as he stared at the mutilated corpse of his friend. Sobs racked his body, shaking him from head to toe.
“Oh, man.” Lance jogged up to him, knelt by his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Greg tried to answer, but only cries escaped his mouth. He couldn’t see or hear much. Couldn’t feel anything but enormous guilt and loss. He remembered the way Adam twitched in his arms after he’d shot him.
Lance set the rifle he’d carried down on the sidewalk. He helped Greg to a seated position, placing his back against a No Parking sign sticking out of the sidewalk. “It’s not your fault.”
Everyone had told him that since they’d lost Adam.
It never helped.
Lance stayed with him for several minutes, waiting for Greg to calm down. When the sobs lessened to small hitches, Lance turned his attention to Adam. “Sick bastards.”
“Who would do something like this?” Greg finally managed to ask.
“I don’t know.” Lance shook his head. “We somehow managed to find the craziest people still alive.”
Adam’s filthy, blood-soaked shirt was pulled up a bit, revealing the pale flesh of his stomach. Just under the edge of the fabric, hidden in shadow, was a discoloration in the skin.
Lance leaned closer to the body, covering his mouth and nose to protect himself from the stench. He grabbed the shirt with his index finger and thumb, careful not to touch the skin, and lifted the fabric away from the body.
A large incision ran from Adam’s belly button to his sternum. Thick, rough stitches pulled the flesh closed for the most part, though gaps remained. The whole area was bloodless.
“They cut him open.” Greg groaned. “The bastards mutilated every part of him.”
“But why stitch him back up?” Lance leaned even closer, pointing at something sticking out the middle of the jagged incision. “What’s that?”
Greg wiped at his eyes as he peered closer.
A wire snaked out of the cut with a small node or bulb on the end. It stretched an inch out of the wound, the wire bending slightly so it didn’t stand straight in the air.
“Looks like a receiver for a control.” Greg remembered hooking up a universal remote to his entertainment center, so he didn’t have to use six different ones. The small hub that had come with it had tiny little nodes he’d placed around his video equipment to make everything work.
The tiny wire poking out of Adam looked just like it.
“A receiver?” Lance asked. “For what?”
“No idea. Maybe it’s a microphone or something. You think they’re listening to what we’re saying? If so, fuck you, guys.” Greg reached for it, intent on ripping it out of his friend’s stomach and chucking it into the street.
Lance grabbed his wrist, stopping him as his hand hovered inches above the device. “A receiver?” he repeated. “A receiver…”
His eyes widened.
“What is it, bro?” Greg tried to pry his arm free, but he couldn’t break out of Lance’s grip. “What are you—”
“Get up!” Lance exploded to his feet, yanking on Greg’s arm. “Run!”
“Run? Why?” Greg struggled to get his legs under him as Lance yanked him down the sidewalk.
“Just run!” Lance finally let go as they reached full speed, sprinting away from Adam.
When they reached an abandoned car parked across the middle of the road, Lance ducked down behind it. He waved his hands in frantic circles for Greg to join him. They plopped down in the street, their backs to the car, gasping.
Greg was about to ask what they were hiding from when Will walked out of an alley twenty yards away. Will paused midstep when he spotted them hiding behind the car. He held two shovels in his right hand, a pickaxe in his left.
“What in the hell are you two doing?” he asked. “Did I miss something?”
“Get down,” Lance yelled. “There might be a—”
A massive explosion erupted behind them.
The blast deafened Greg in an instant.
A concussive force boomed through the neighborhood, shattering the windows of the buildings lining either side of the street. Glass showered down from the car they leaned against, catching in their hair and stabbing at their necks.
The car skidded more than two feet, slamming into their backs, almost folding Greg in half at the waist.
Will stood dumbfounded for a microsecond, staring beyond Lance and Greg.
And then, the No Parking sign sliced through his face, just under his nose. The top of his head ripped away, flipping several yards before plopping to the sidewalk, blood and gore splattering the concrete.
His body stood rooted in place for several moments, unmoving.
The shovels and pickaxe fell from his grip.
He took one shaky step toward them, but then collapsed forward, landing on his chest.
Blood and other nasty fluids spurted from what remained of his head.
Greg could see his teeth in the mangled mess.
His tongue flapped once, then hung limply.
Greg’s stomach threatened to reverse his breakfast.
Dust billowed over Lance and Greg, filling the air like an early morning fog. It coated everything. A gray coat covered eve
ry inch of their skin. Greg coughed and sputtered, trying to get a deep breath as panic settled in, but unable to because of the cloud enveloping them.
A high-pitched ringing filled his ears.
Wide-eyed and shell-shocked, he glanced around, unsure of what had just happened. He couldn’t comprehend what he’d just seen happen to Will.
Lance got to his knees, peering over the back of the car. His mouth worked as he stared at something farther down the straight. Greg only heard the ringing.
“What?” Greg yelled. “I can’t hear you.”
Lance repeated himself, but Greg couldn’t make out anything he said. Finally, Lance pointed in the direction they’d left Adam’s body. Mouthing look, he jabbed his finger back that way. Or maybe he actually said look, but Greg’s damaged ears couldn’t make it out.
Broken glass stabbed at Greg’s knees as he managed to get up. Shards fell from his shoulders and hair. Turning around, he followed Lance’s gaze.
The majority of the black was gone. The front of the building where they’d left Adam had disappeared. Through the dust, Greg could see the inside of a shop and an apartment above it.
A crater gaped where Adam had been.
The body was gone, disintegrated from the blast.
Dust blocked Greg’s view of the sky, the end of the street. He coughed and sputtered as he got to his feet, putting a hand on the car to help find his balance. The blast had distorted his equilibrium, sapped his strength.
Lance shook his head like a waterlogged dog. Glass, dust, and random debris flew from his long hair. A line of blood ran from his hairline down to his nose, dripping from the tip. When he whipped his head, the blood pattered his cheeks, mixing with the dust to make a brownish gunk.
They walked around the car on shaky legs, approaching the crater. The hole in the sidewalk extended into the street, stretching thirty feet in diameter, maybe more. It was at least half-a-dozen feet deep.
The building on the other side of the street had only lost part of its brick facade, though all the windows and doors had blown off. A barbershop was set up inside, the chrome chairs and wooden counters covered with debris.