Road to Babylon (Book 9): The Ranch

by Sisavath, Sam

  Thuy and Wilson came topside later. Wilson had reclaimed her Henry lever action rifle, while Thuy remained unarmed. There was no reason for her to be a threat anymore now that she had her sister back, but Keo didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks. She was, in his mind, compromised. He would evaluate her usefulness later, when all of this was over.

  “What are you two doing up here?” Keo asked them.

  “Thought you might need some help,” Thuy said. “Lara wouldn’t let Bunker come up here, so we thought we would.”

  “What can we do?” Wilson asked.

  “Lara bundled up some clothes and left them upstairs,” Keo said. “If we need to spend more nights in the shelter, we’re going to need them.”

  “We thought you might need more help out here, getting the place ready for tonight,” Thuy said.

  Keo tossed her the canteen he’d been drinking out of all day. Thuy groped clumsily at it with her left hand, but it sailed past her and landed five yards behind her.

  “You’ve never had to use your left hand, have you?” Keo asked.

  Thuy looked down at her arm as if it was an appendage she didn’t know was even there until now.

  “Those clothes aren’t going to move themselves,” Keo said.

  Thuy nodded, looking defeated, and returned to the house. Keo felt a little bit sorry for her. A little bit. He might have been more understanding if she hadn’t held a gun to Lara’s head less than twenty-four hours ago. Something like that could taint a person’s feelings toward another one.

  Wilson didn’t turn and leave with Thuy, though.

  “What are you still doing here?” Keo asked her.

  The kid walked over to the canteen and picked it up, then threw it back at him. She had a nice delivery.

  Keo snatched it out of the air. “Your point?”

  “I can help you up here,” Wilson said.

  “Maybe you can, but there’s nothing to do. I did everything already.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything.”

  “Oh.”

  He finished off the water in the canteen while eyeing her as she stood there with her rifle, staring off at the fences that surrounded the house. “How old are you?”

  She turned back to him. “Does it matter?”

  “It’s just a question. You don’t have to answer.”

  The girl shrugged. “Thirteen. But I can take care of myself.”

  Keo nodded. He’d been curious, but that was it. He had no doubts whatsoever that Wilson had seen some serious shit in her time, even as she wandered the countryside, dragging little Gummy along with her. After all, she’d been trying to shoot him back at Hamlock and the only reason she’d missed was, well, she wasn’t a very good shot.

  “How long have you been using that thing?” Keo asked, nodding at her rifle.

  “A few years,” Wilson said. “Why?”

  “Back at Hamlock. Were you really trying to kill me?”

  Wilson didn’t answer right away.

  “Be honest,” Keo said.

  She nodded. “I was.” Then, with an almost sheepish look, “Sorry.”

  Keo chuckled. “No need to be sorry.”

  “I tried to kill you.”

  “You didn’t know who I was. And you were just trying to protect your sister.”

  “I guess.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re a terrible shot.”

  “I’m not that bad.”

  “You’re pretty bad, kid.”

  She sighed. “I guess.”

  “Have you ever actually shot anyone with that thing?”

  “Once or twice.”

  Keo squinted at her, standing in front of him under the fading sunlight. She looked so much younger now than when he first saw her.

  “You don’t remember if it’s once or twice?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t always know if I’ve hit them. I never, you know, checked.”

  “You just shoot and run, huh?”

  “Pretty much. It’s safer that way.”

  “Good point.” Then, “Let me see that thing.”

  She walked over and handed him the rifle. Keo turned it around and worked the lever. It was chambered for .22 and was badly dented and scratched from barrel to stock. The weapon hadn’t been properly maintained over the years, either because Wilson didn’t know how to do that or its former owner didn’t.

  “Where’d you get this, anyway?” he asked.

  “I found it in a house in El Paso,” Wilson said.

  “Where are you and your sister from?”

  “I just said it. El Paso.”

  “Right.” He gave the rifle back to her. “Are the .22s silver?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve been running around with that thing, and the bullets aren’t silver?”

  “I don’t know how to make silver bullets. Besides, I’ve never had to shoot ghouls with it.”

  Keo motioned for her to follow him. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m going to teach you how to shoot. And to get that thing loaded with proper rounds.”

  “You’re going to teach me how to shoot in one night?” Wilson asked doubtfully.

  Keo glanced at his watch. “We’ll have to get it done in thirty minutes.”

  He didn’t manage to teach the kid how to become an ace shot in thirty minutes. He gave her some breathing pointers and introduced the concept of shooting at where the target was going to be instead of where it was. The girl was a quick learner, and by the time their thirty minutes (twenty-eight, if he wanted to be pedantic about it) was over, she’d successfully hit half the clay targets he’d launched from the machine he and Bunker used for their own target practices. A 50 percent success rate was more than the zero she’d achieved when they first got started.

  Keo counted that as a win, in a day where wins were few and far between.

  “I’m good now?” Wilson asked as they walked back to the house.

  It had gotten noticeably darker around them, and Keo could hear the horses moving around inside the stables. Even the animals were dreading the coming nightfall. He didn’t blame them one bit. The ghouls had ignored them last night, but there were no guarantees they were going to be so lucky this time.

  “You’re better,” Keo said. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say good yet.”

  “But I can get even better. You can teach me how.”

  “Sure.”

  “I mean it. I want to get better. A lot better.”

  “You can’t possibly get any worse.”

  “I know…”

  “But we can make you better. At least, good enough that you might actually be able to hit what you’re shooting at in the near future. Hopefully when it’s not me.”

  Wilson grinned at him. It was, he thought, the first time she’d done that.

  “Just don’t sneak up on me again,” she said.

  “Who was sneaking up on you?”

  “You were.”

  “Nonsense. I was just riding through town.”

  “Same difference.”

  “I guess it’s a matter of perspective,” Keo said. Then, as they walked through the empty house, “You regret coming here with me yet?”

  Wilson shook her head. “No.”

  “Really?”

  “You don’t know what we’ve had to do to survive out there, Keo,” Wilson said.

  The girl didn’t say anything else as they walked down the back hallway. Thuy was nowhere to be seen, so Keo assumed she’d already gone down before them, having finished her work up here. There were three bundles of clothes that needed to be moved and Thuy only had one good arm, but it wasn’t like she had a long way to walk back and forth. Thirty minutes was more than enough time to get the job done.

  As they reached the basement and stepped over the broken door, Wilson said, “This is better than what’s out there.”

  Jesus Christ. What did they have to deal with out there?<
br />
  But Keo didn’t ask her that. He figured the girl would tell him—or, probably more likely, Lara—when the time was right. Which, in this case, was when she thought of them as more than just strangers. He wasn’t sure how long that was going to take but wasn’t holding his breath, either.

  The basement was darker than it had been the last time he walked through it, but the ROUND ONE and below that WELL PLAYED were still easily visible. Keo had thought about taking the time to clean them off the wall and door but hadn’t. They were, he thought, a good reminder of what they were up against. Not that he really needed it, of course.

  Keo nodded at Wilson and she went through the outer door first. He pulled it closed after her, slamming it home, then spinning the locks into place.

  “That’s going to keep them out, right?” Wilson asked.

  “It did last night,” Keo said. “Besides, if it doesn’t, the other one will.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Think positive, kid.”

  “Does that work?”

  Keo shrugged. “I dunno, but that’s what Lara keeps telling me.”

  They walked down the dimly lit corridor. They’d lowered the wattage to conserve energy because they didn’t know how long they’d need to make use of the shelter. The creatures hadn’t gone after the panels on the roof of the buildings or the ones in the field nearby, but that could change at any moment.

  Just like everything else, they were playing tonight by ear.

  ROUND ONE, the message had said.

  Which meant it was time for round two…

  Nineteen

  It was quiet inside the outer hallway.

  Too damn quiet.

  Keo sat with his back against the cold door, one of Bunker’s AR-15s resting between his bent legs. He kept the MP5 on a shoulder strap, but it was a backup. So was the machete at his left hip and the SIG Sauer on his right. Keo didn’t like carrying too many weapons, because every additional one meant spare ammo. He only had two for the AR in one of his pouches, with the mag in the drop leg pouch dedicated to the submachine gun. He figured that if he had to run and shoot and reload at the same time, he’d rather have a weapon designed for close quarters. And that was exactly what the H&K did very well.

  He wished he could say having to stand (or, well, sit, in this case) guard all by his little lonesome was a new experience, but he’d been through it all before. Those other situations weren’t quite this extreme, of course, but then what was when compared to a horde of meth teeth-baring ghouls?

  The lights along the corridor in front of him were dimmed, using up only half of their normal wattage. The generator hummed in the background, a reminder that if they had to stay down here for more than a week, they were probably going to run out of juice eventually. The fact that they even had a week was due to the batteries being able to store power for months and years without needing to be tapped into to run the underground shelter. The solar panels were efficient and easy to use, but they were also slow as hell to restore once drained.

  But that was for another day. Another week.

  Right now, he only had the present night to worry about. Survive the next ten or so hours, and he could decide what to do for the next few days, weeks, or months after. If push came to shove, they would abandon the shelter and the ranch altogether. Bunker wouldn’t like it, but he’d understand. Hopefully.

  So what did Keo have right now at his disposal? Himself, for one. Fortunately he was at 100 percent strength. He didn’t think that was ever going to be possible after Paxton, but Lara had made damn sure he was fully healed up. For backup, he had a pregnant woman, an injured rancher, and four girls.

  …a pregnant woman, an injured rancher, and four girls.

  Yeah, it wasn’t exactly the best-case scenario he could have come up with. He would have liked at least another able-bodied shooter watching his back, but he’d have to settle for a gimpy Bunker and a possibly useful Wilson. He knew for a fact he couldn’t depend on Abby or Gummy, and Thuy was too much of a wild card.

  Lara was as dependable as they came, but she was also hampered by her pregnancy. Not that he would have allowed her to do anything even remotely dangerous anyway. Besides the fact that he loved her, that she was his entire world, there was the issue of that baby inside her.

  No. He was down to Bunker and Wilson.

  And probably just Bunker…

  But that was okay, as long as the doors held. He didn’t have any reasons to believe they wouldn’t. The blue-eyed ghoul hadn’t been able to—in fact, it hadn’t even tried—to break down the outer door. Instead, it’d tried to get Thuy to do the work for it. So as long as he had the door, literally, at his back…

  Then there was the primary shelter door, which was twice as thick and tough as this one.

  Yeah, he liked his odds, no matter how many—or in this case, how few—extra guns he had at his disposal. The trick was getting through tonight. Then the one after that.

  And the one after that…

  Gee, that’s it? Should be simple enough.

  Yeah, right.

  It was quiet outside. Why was it so quiet?

  And his slightly rapid heartbeat didn’t count.

  Calm down. It’s not like you’ve never done this before.

  That was the problem. He’d done this too many times before. One of these days he wasn’t going to come out of it. He’d been lucky so far, but luck didn’t last forever. Otherwise they wouldn’t call it “luck.”

  Keo checked his watch. He’d lost count of how many times he’d glanced down. (It might have been a dozen or so; or a few hundred.)

  10:11 p.m.

  Nightfall had come without an attack. At least, none that he was aware of. He didn’t hear anything that sounded like footsteps in the house above him or in the basement on the other side of the door at his back. Not that he would have been able to hear anyway if someone was tiptoeing around. Hell, even if there were a few hundred someones tiptoeing around.

  He should have been thankful for the quiet, but he wasn’t. It was too good to be true. Too damn good to be true.

  Keo listened for it. For something. For anything. He was waiting for the smallest hints, the slightest vibrations that would indicate living things were swarming the house.

  But there was nothing.

  Not a goddamn thing.

  Come on. I know you’re out there.

  So come on.

  Then: Or maybe you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, pal.

  He was still trying to decide which was the better approach—enjoy the peace and quiet, the non-action, or wish the bad guys would get on with it already—when he heard footsteps.

  Lara, turning the corner in front of him. She was properly armed—AR rifle slung over her shoulder, gun belt, and spare ammo in drop leg pouches. The urban assault vest made it difficult to tell she was pregnant. Lara carried her pregnancy well and rarely complained about it. The first few weeks had been difficult, but she had quickly gotten used to the morning sickness. Then the sepsis had reared its head, but they’d dealt with that, too.

  She smiled as she walked over, then sat down with a heavier-than-usual sigh next to him. She laid the rifle on the floor next to her, then leaned over and put her head against his shoulder.

  Keo slipped an arm around her. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Thought you could use the company.”

  “You shouldn’t be here, Lara.”

  “I left the door open, so if anything happens, I’ll just run back. You worry too much.”

  “I worry too much so the two of you don’t have to.”

  “My hero.”

  “I’m surprised Bunker hasn’t shown his ugly face yet.”

  “He tried. He got a few steps to the door before collapsing.”

  “He okay?”

  “He’s fine. But he lost more blood back there than he was willing to admit. I put him back in bed and sedated him.”

  “He let you do that?” />
  “No.”

  Keo smiled. Leave it to Lara to make someone as stubborn as Bunker do something he didn’t want to.

  “He’s not going to like that when he wakes up,” Keo said.

  “I know,” Lara said. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Then, “I don’t hear anything. That’s good, right?”

  “It should be.”

  “It’s not?”

  “I don’t know. When it comes to blue-eyed ghouls…” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “This one really has you spooked, doesn’t it? I’ve never seen you so indecisive about everything.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked over at him. “But you beat it once. You can do it again.”

  “I had help in Paxton.”

  “The slayers…”

  “Yeah.”

  “So now you have me and Bunker and the rest.”

  “You mean Bunker, who is sleeping the night off, and the four other girls in the shelter?”

  Lara gave him a sheepish grin. “Yes.”

  “Not exactly my idea of backup.”

  “Sorry we don’t live up to your expectations.”

  He rolled his eyes at her. “You, I’d take any day of the week, and thrice on Sundays.”

  She smiled. “‘Thrice on Sundays?’”

  “Thrice on Sundays and frice on Mondays.”

  “I don’t think frice is a word, babe.”

  “No?”

  “Nope.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She leaned her head back against his shoulder before wrapping both arms around one of his. “Maybe it’s time we did the one thing we didn’t want to do.”

  “Refresh my memory. What are we talking about?”

  “Black Tide.”

  “Oh.”

  Neither one of them said anything for a while.

  She was referring to Black Tide. Or, more specifically, the army at Black Tide. The same one that she once led but had given up to come live in obscurity in this very obscure part of the Texas countryside with him. The same group of men and women whose lives she couldn’t shoulder the responsibility for ever again after what had happened to Gaby at Darby Bay.

  That Black Tide.