Road to Babylon (Book 9): The Ranch

by Sisavath, Sam

  “You do recall that I suggested that two nights ago, right?” Keo said.

  “I know.”

  “And you said…?”

  “I said no.”

  “That’s right. You didn’t even want them to know you were alive, because if they did, they’d want you back there. They’d want the same Lara they know and love in charge of things.”

  “I know,” Lara said quietly. Then, again, and this time even quieter, “I know.”

  “If we radio them, they’ll come running. Danny would mobilize an army right now—in the dead of night—and there would be helos here before midnight.”

  “We might not have a choice.”

  “Nothing has changed since two nights ago.”

  “Yes, there has.”

  “What?”

  “Bunker, for one. He’s not completely 100 percent anymore, and I need him to be. More importantly, you need him to be to watch your back. I can’t do it. Not anymore. Not in my…condition.”

  He reached over and put his palm over her stomach. He could feel the slight bump underneath the vest.

  “You need him,” Lara said. “I can’t do it. Thuy can’t. None of the girls can.”

  “Wilson’s pretty tough.”

  “She’s just a kid.”

  “There are no ‘just’ kids anymore, Lara.”

  “Yes, there are. And the four in there, including Thuy.” She wrapped her arms tighter around his. “You know how painful it is for me to admit all this? That I can’t be by your side when you need me most? To always have to stay behind and watch you leave with Bunker? I hate it, Keo. I hate it with every fiber of my being. But I have to. For your sake. For mine. For ours. The three of us.”

  He pulled her closer to him. “Why don’t you see if you can ring them up with the emergency radio. I’ll wait here just in—”

  Keo didn’t finish. Instead, he cocked his head slightly.

  Lara sat up straight next to him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I hear something.”

  “I don’t hear anything.” Then, when he didn’t answer her, “Keo. I don’t hear anything. What did you hear?”

  He shook his head before standing up.

  Lara mirrored him. “Keo, you’re scaring me. What did you hear?”

  He turned to look at the door. The very big and heavy steel door. “Something moving from the other side.”

  Lara, the AR-15 in her hands, took two quick, involuntary steps away from the door. “I didn’t hear anything. Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  He slung the rifle and leaned toward the door, pressing his ear flush against the cold 12-gauge steel surface. Oh, how he wished Bunker had installed a close-circuit camera in the basement. Or anywhere else on the ranch property, for that matter. Despite how much of a godsend the McCanns’ underground shelter had become for them in the last forty-eight hours, Keo still hated being, essentially, blind in here.

  “Keo,” Lara said quietly, impossibly patiently, behind him.

  He shook his head before looking over his shoulder at her. “I think you should go back inside.”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “Keo.”

  “Please.”

  He thought she would keep arguing, but she nodded and began backpedaling down the hallway. “Don’t take any chances, you got it? If someone tries to come through, you get your ass inside the shelter with me. I’m leaving the door open.”

  Keo smiled. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  She turned and walked quickly the rest of the way, vanishing around the corner. He didn’t look away, or feel relieved, until he couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore.

  He turned back around to focus on the door.

  He was certain he’d heard the noise earlier, even if he couldn’t now. Hell, he couldn’t even tell what it was he thought he’d heard.

  But there had been something. He was sure of it.

  Wasn’t he?

  Wasn’t he?

  Maybe the same paranoid mind that had been waiting anxiously for something to happen had conjured up something happening, when nothing was. That was entirely possible, too.

  He pegged the chances at fifty-fifty that he had imagined the whole thing.

  Okay, maybe it was more like forty-sixty…even if he couldn’t settle on which side the sixty fell on—paranoia or reality.

  Or—

  The wall in front of him exploded.

  More specifically, the five feet of concrete wall to the right of the steel door.

  Keo reeled, spinning away from the flying projectiles and chunks of concrete, some the size of his head as they pelted the hallway around him. The only reason he wasn’t on the ground from being bludgeoned by one of the bigger chunks was because he was pressed so close to the door that the heavy structure provided him with cover against the blast.

  That did nothing to keep his ears from ringing, though. Keo couldn’t hear a goddamn thing as he stumbled away from the door, unslinging the AR as he did so. Or trying to get the weapon free. The ground was moving erratically underneath him, the flat surface having turned into a quicksand of loose rubble and concrete slabs.

  Smoke filled the corridor, coming from the source of the blast like hungry fog monsters. They swallowed up the room around him, threatening to choke him to death. He was probably coughing, but he couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in his ears. The entirety of the blast had come from his right.

  Or he thought so, anyway.

  He couldn’t be sure about anything anymore, including what was happening around him other than the fact he couldn’t breathe or see very well, and there was a very real chance he was coughing his lungs out even as he tried not to slip on all the loose items carpeting the floor.

  Christ, where did all the small pebbles come from? Why was there so much—

  Flickers of movement in the corners of his eyes, and Keo spun around to face it.

  To face them.

  Ghouls.

  They were slipping through a jagged hole that had appeared in the wall next to the still-standing door. They were coming from the basement on the other side, pruned black flesh dancing against the dimmed hallway lights. Or the ones that were still operating, anyway. Half of the bulbs had burst in the blast.

  He couldn’t smell them (both his nostrils were clogged with soot and pulverized concrete) or hear them (his ears were still ringing nonstop), but he could see them just fine. More than fine, actually, because they were only a few feet away.

  He stumbled backward, raising the AR even as he continued to struggle to stay upright. God, all he needed right now was to slip and fall on his ass. He wouldn’t make it back up because they’d be all over him.

  All two—four—five of them.

  And those were just the ones that had managed to squeeze their way through the slit in the wall. Whatever had caused the blast—some kind of explosion; the acrid stench of powder was starting to invade his sense of smell—hadn’t completely taken down the wall. Instead, it had created an opening, one that wasn’t quite big enough for everything on the other side to just pour through unopposed.

  Thank God for that. Thank God for that!

  Instead, the creatures had to fight their way in—the narrow opening and each other. Black-eyed ghouls grabbed and pulled at one another, trying to be the first one through. He could see the rabid intensity in their eyes—the raging bloodlust—as they zeroed in on him.

  Prey. That was what he was. Nothing but prey.

  He didn’t so much as hear the AR firing as he felt the rifle moving while he pulled the trigger. The rounds punched through the ghouls, easily piercing their weakened flesh and striking the ones squirming through the opening behind them. He fired in bursts, then another one, swinging left, then right to cover as much ground as possible.

  And he continued to retreat even as they flopped inside, clambering over the ones already on the floor. He couldn’t see how many of them there wer
e; it was like trying to see into the deepest, darkest part of the ocean. There was just a black wall of squirming flesh and gleaming black eyes and salivating mouths.

  Thank God the hole wasn’t big enough for all of them to come in at once.

  Thank God he was hidden behind the door when the blast detonated and was spared the brunt of the explosion.

  Thank God he was still breathing, even if every breath was like swallowing a shovel of ash and dirt and shit.

  He retreated and fired, but the hallway never seemed to end behind him.

  And they kept coming inside, scrambling over the dead, blissfully ignorant of the silver rounds he sent their way. He was going to run out of bullets soon and was mentally preparing himself to have to reload. Once he wasted the remaining two AR mags, he would have to switch to the MP5. Even then, he wasn’t going to be able to take them all down before they reached the shelter door because there were just too many of them.

  There were too many of them.

  Always too goddamn many of them…

  Twenty

  “Keo!”

  We’re gonna die.

  “Yeah?”

  Shit. We’re gonna die.

  “Hurry!”

  I couldn’t protect Lara.

  “I am!”

  I couldn’t protect my family.

  “Faster!”

  What good is a man if he can’t protect his own family?

  “I’m moving as fast as I can!”

  He might as well lie down and die, then.

  “Move faster!”

  Hell no.

  “I’m moving as fast as I can, woman!”

  Hell no!

  “You need to move faster!”

  Hell goddamn no!

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  Lara might have said something else in reply, but it was lost to the pop-pop-pop of automatic rifle fire and the resulting echoes as the gunshots reverberated up and down the concrete corridor. Keo hadn’t heard those echoes earlier because his ears were ringing, but now that his hearing had cleared up some, it was impossible to miss them. Some, but not altogether.

  He ejected the magazine—the second one—and didn’t even bother to reload the AR with the third and final spare. Keo tossed it, grateful to be rid of the heavy weight, and reached for the MP5.

  Lara was somewhere behind him, having come back out the door in response to the chaos. He’d been shocked to see her when he turned the corner. Shock and partially pissed off.

  What the hell are you doing, woman? Get back inside! he wanted to shout at her but was too busy sucking in air through all the dust and vaporized concrete still trying to push its way into his mouth and down his throat.

  He spun around and continued backpedaling as fast as he could without tripping on his own constantly moving legs and falling flat on his ass. If that were to happen, well, then the shit would really have hit the fan.

  What? So the shit hasn’t hit the fan yet?

  Not yet! Not until I’m dead, pal!

  He watched the first couple of ghouls turning the corner in front of him. They were moving too fast, bare feet sliding on the hard pavement as they attempted to round the turn. A couple lost their footing and slid into a wall, a half dozen more got tangled up in each other’s limbs, but a few managed to make it around the bend upright.

  Keo shot them, sweeping the submachine gun from left to right with a single burst. He dropped a half dozen with the first volley, then took out five more with the second one. Or he thought it was five, anyway. It was actually just three because two of them popped right back up from the floor and scrambled forward. He fired another burst, 9mm silver-tipped rounds ripping through the creatures like knife through butter.

  He emptied the rest of the magazine, taking out another half dozen ghouls while the rest of his bullets pek-pek-pekked! off the thick cement walls. Some ricocheted off the corridor and slammed into ghouls, knocking them down—and they, in turn, swept others off their feet as they fell.

  The air had begun to fill with gray-white clouds as sections of the wall loosened from bullet impacts. Not that they did anything to obscure the army of black eyes and fanged teeth coming toward him.

  There were so many of them.

  There were always so damn many.

  So what are you waiting for? Kill them all!

  Easier said than done, pal! he thought as the submachine gun was suddenly very light in his hands.

  Time to go!

  Keo spun around and Lara was right there, next to him.

  “Go go go!” she shouted.

  He went, went, went, lunging through the open shelter door and immediately turning, throwing his shoulder into the 500-lb blast door, and began pushing it closed. It was like trying to convince a herd of elephants to do something they didn’t want to do; the animals kicked and screamed and fought against him the entire way.

  Inch by inch the door moved, but by God, it was so slow.

  All the while, the hallway outside was filled with the pop-pop-pop of Lara’s rifle as she unleashed her magazine up the corridor. Ghouls were starting to pile up, covering the floor in a carpet of thick black flesh. Creatures were falling, tripping over twisted limbs jutting up ahead of them.

  That’s my girl, he thought as he watched her standing her ground and mowing down ghoul after ghoul. He’d always considered Lara the bravest woman he knew; she was also the toughest too, and pregnant belly or not, she still was.

  My girl. How did I get so lucky?

  “Lara!” Keo shouted.

  She began retreating, but never taking her eyes off the hallway or sending rounds in bursts through the wall of incoming ghouls. She was conserving ammo, picking her targets, and not wasting a single bullet.

  Lara was effective, and the creatures kept falling. The ping-ping-ping! of bullets bouncing off flesh and pek-pek-pekking! the concrete that formed the passageway, creating an almost melodic symphony.

  Not that it was easy for Keo to hear all of that with his breath crashing against his chest and Lara’s gunfire echoing in his still-ringing, though not as much as before, ears.

  “Lara!” he shouted again, this time at the top of his lungs.

  She finally turned. There was fear on her face, as there would be on any human being when confronted with the mad rush of flesh and teeth and unnatural eyes. But there was also grit and determination and the kind of bravery only she could show.

  “Now, woman, now!” he shouted.

  She might have grinned at him as she ran forward, then darted through the door even as he continued pushing it forward, his boots sliding against the floor. Then Lara was next to him, shoving her own shoulder into the door as they simultaneously heaved at the 1,000-lb elephant, forcing it to do something it didn’t want to do, but goddammit, it was going to do it anyway!

  The door began to move faster and faster, even as the ghouls got closer and closer—

  The clang! as all three inches of 12-gauge stainless steel finally—finally!—made it home, crushing a pair of ghouls in its frame as it did so. Bone was grounded into nothing, and black blood spurted out across the entry hallway. Keo ignored all of that and grabbed, then spun the round door wheel and listened to the gears of the dozen or so locking mechanisms snapping into place one by one by one. It was the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard in his life.

  Keo stepped back, sucking in his breath with every step, before finally giving up and falling down to the floor on his ass. Lara did the same beside him, her breath hammering out of her chest. He was having just as much trouble breathing, but he could barely hear it. His ears had cleared up some, but not entirely.

  Lara was wiping at black sludge oozing down her right cheek. More of the stuff dripped from the front of her vest and pants legs. Some of them were from the ghouls that had been crushed by the door. He looked down at similar liquids clinging to him. He brushed at them but only succeeded in smearing them over more of his vest. He gave up trying after that.

  Neither one of
them said anything. They were too tired, too busy trying to catch their breath. The entire thing hadn’t taken more than a few minutes.

  No, not even that.

  Seconds.

  That was all it’d taken. It’d been seconds from the time they punched the hole into the wall (Who the hell did that? Ghouls? No way. Ghouls don’t use explosives!) and the creatures began swarming inside. Then he was running and shooting, and Lara was there as soon as he turned the corner.

  Seconds.

  That was it.

  All of that had just taken seconds…

  “You okay?” Keo finally said.

  Lara nodded. She was already reloading her AR, placing the empty magazine down on the floor next to her as if she had every intention of retrieving it later for reuse. “You?”

  “I’m okay. Thanks to you.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not telling my baby I left his or her father out there to get eaten by ghouls.”

  Keo chuckled. “We definitely don’t want that.”

  They exchanged a smile.

  “What happened?” Lara asked. “I heard an explosion…”

  “Someone blew a hole in the basement wall next to the door.”

  “So it was an explosion?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ghouls know how to do that?”

  “Not the last time I checked.”

  Lara stared at him for a moment, digesting what he’d said.

  Finally, she said, “Collaborators?”

  “Must be,” Keo said. He pulled himself up from the floor with a groan, then spent a few seconds reloading the submachine gun. “Ghouls don’t use explosives.”

  “Babe,” Lara said. When he looked down, she was holding up both hands to him. “A little help?”

  He grinned and pulled her up. Then they turned around and leaned closer against the door.

  They couldn’t hear anything. Not through 500 pounds of 3-inch-thick blast door material, anyway.

  It wasn’t just the door that was built to withstand everything from a nuclear blast to every type of end-of-the-world scenario imaginable. The walls that surrounded the shelter were made of similarly tough material. Unlike the hallway outside, it wouldn’t be quite as easy to blast a hole into the shelter. Not that it was impossible, from his experience with bunker-busting weapons, but it was going to take a lot more than whatever had made a hole in the wall outside.