Broken Tide | Book 6 | Breakwater

by Richardson, Marcus

Jo pursed her lips in thought. "I think people are gonna learn to run when they hear a noise…”

  Reese took the bag that he’d liberated from the cop car off his shoulders and put it on the ground. He unzipped it, and a grin spread across his face. He reached inside and pulled out a 12-gauge pump action shotgun, with CPD stenciled on the side.

  “Remington 870,” Jo said with a grin. “My daddy used to say that’ll put a whumpin’ on sumpin’…”

  He turned the shotgun over in his hands. "Looks like it got a little damp at some point, but everything seems to be mostly dried out. When we get back to my place, I'll have to clean it and oil it proper."

  "Will it work?" Jo asked. "And do we have any ammo in that bag of yours?”

  Reese held the shotgun in one hand and dug around in the bag with the other. He found sodden cleaning wads, rags, a container of oil, a smaller bag of spare parts, and several limp boxes of rubber riot control rounds.

  "Well, there's nothing in here that would take down a grizzly, that's for sure.” He frowned, keeping an eye on the area where the strangers had been scavenging. Reese deftly opened one of the ammo boxes with one hand and pulled out a two- and three-quarter-inch shot shell. "But this little bad boy should put a real hurtin’ on somebody—definitely make ‘em think twice about doing whatever they're trying to do."

  Jo rolled her eyes. "Well, I guess it's the best we’re gonna get." She looked at him and grinned. “Beats a stick any day though, huh?”

  Reese flipped the shotgun over, pressed down the loading port gate and slipped five rounds in. "You got that right," he said, then racked the forestock and closed his eyes at the distinctive che-chack. "Music to my ears…”

  "Let's hope we don't have to use it,” Jo admonished. “Remember, they got a kid with them."

  Reese dug around in the bag a little more and found a sling, which he promptly attached to the shotgun. It had space for 10 shells in the bandolier-type strap, so while Jo moved forward to the next vehicle, he loaded up, then slung the weapon over his shoulder. He stuffed everything back into the black duffel bag and slung that over his other shoulder. "No sense in leaving anything behind…never know when we’ll find something like this again," he muttered to himself.

  Reese jogged forward and joined Jo behind a crumpled pickup truck. "Anything?"

  Jo shook her head. "Wherever they went, I can't see them."

  "Okay then," Reese decided. "Let's go forward…I’ll go first and wave you on when it's safe…deal?"

  "You don't have to ask," Jo replied with a lopsided grin. "I ain’t some wiltin’ wallflower that’ll get offended by you taking the lead."

  "Well,” Reese said, still scanning the way ahead, “I just wanted to…I mean, I'm the one with the shotgun…”

  Jo laughed. "It don't bother me none, boy—you’ll be the one they shoot at first!”

  "Right…” Reese muttered. He narrowed his eyes at a gap between cars just ahead and looked back at Jo. "Okay, here we go. I would say cover me, but…”

  “Get goin’, target,” Jo laughed.

  She gave him a gentle shove and Reese darted forward, twisting sideways to fit between two cars on their sides. Three quarters of the way across the bridge, Reese saw the kid on the other side of the river slip between a pair of vehicles and make a beeline for the little strip mall across the street from the Walmart.

  Reese angled that way, then ducked down behind a tractor trailer on its side. The rear doors had been pried open, and the contents looted long ago. Just to be safe, he peered inside on his way to a safe position. The cavernous vehicle had carried a mishmash of electronics and appliances, no doubt destined for the Walmart.

  He turned and raised his hand to wave Jo forward, and almost hit her in the face as she approached. "I thought the plan was I’d tell you when it was safe to move forward?"

  Jo grinned and adjusted her backpack. "Well, I figured it was safe—pretty easy to tell since you ain't been shot yet."

  Reese pinched the bridge of his nose. "One more day…one more day…”

  Jo slapped him on the shoulder and snorted. "You keep telling yourself that, boy. Remember, you took me on for the long haul. I got nowhere else to go, so I’ll be staying with you."

  Reese took up position at the corner of the tractor-trailer and tried to feign irritation. In truth, Jo's unique skill set and frontier humor would be a welcome addition to their homestead, and he couldn't wait to introduce her to Cami and Amber—assuming they were okay.

  A gut-wrenching worry sprang up inside Reese that he barely tamped down. Can't afford to get distracted…focus, Lavelle!

  Reese took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then peeked around the corner. Heat radiated off the corrugated metal of the trailer, but he ignored the warmth on the exposed skin on the side of his face and arm. His eyes focused across the street at the little strip mall—every window in the building had been shattered, from the insurance agency at the corner, to the nail salon in the middle, and the Thai restaurant at the end. A handful of cars had been left in the parking lot, parked exactly where they’d been abandoned when the tsunami hit. Except for the broken glass—and a few bits of debris and fallen branches in the parking lot—it looked like nothing much had happened, other than a bad storm.

  "I don't think they're coming out,” Reese observed.

  "Well,” Jo said with a sigh, “if I saw you run across this bridge with that boomstick, I don't think I'd be coming out either. Maybe we need to not sneak around…let ‘em know we’re here, you know?”

  "Maybe we shouldn’t even make contact,” Reese muttered. “Might be for the best if we just keep on walking and head home.”

  “Might could be…might not…who knows?” Jo wiped the sweat from her face. “But sneaking around like this is gonna take us forever to get to your place. You said they didn't have any weapons—I say we test that theory and just walk on out there. I know if I saw a couple people on a stroll, I'd be a lot less nervous than seeing two people sneak from car to car—especially with you carrying a shotgun."

  Reese shook his head. “No can do—I ain’t takin’ any chances this close to home. They stay on their side, we’ll stay on ours—but I'm not leaving myself exposed to anybody—I don't care if they got kids or not."

  "It's your rodeo, buckaroo,” Jo replied. "I'm just along for the ride."

  Reese did a double take. “Right,” he said slowly. “Okay, follow me—we’re going down the left side over here. Try to keep as many of these cars as possible between us and them."

  They carefully picked their way across the rest of the bridge, and Jo only stumbled once. Reese squatted on dry land behind a Nissan truck, and Jo quickly joined him. "Okay, here we go,” he said. “I don't want to go anywhere near that Walmart—if there's more survivors around here, that's where they're going to head.”

  “Agreed,” Jo said, giving the looming building a suspicious look.

  “I think we need to stick to the road—straight ahead," Reese said as he made a tomahawk chop with his hand. "We only have about a half mile, then we make a turn north and get off of this road. There’ll be shelter in the trees, too."

  "Sounds good to me," Jo said. “I’m sweatin’ bricks. Let's do it."

  Reese led them out, and quickly climbed across the landscaped median, trying to keep the partially denuded decorative shrubs between them and the strip mall across the street. As they transitioned between the wreckage by the bridge to the partial concealment of the median vegetation, Reese heard someone cry out from the direction of the strip mall.

  "Help! Police! Help!”

  Reese crouched behind the bushes and winced. It was a woman's voice, and the desperation was plain for anyone to hear.

  When Jo joined him, he saw the same look on her face. "If somebody really needs help," Jo said quietly, “we can't just walk off and leave them…might be that kid’s mother?"

  "Why would she yell police?” Reese asked. “Is she thinking we’re here to cause trouble?" He shifted
to get a better look, and Jo laughed.

  "I think she's talking to you, hotshot. When you turn, that police logo on the side of your bag there reflects the sunlight. I bet she saw you and thought you’re a cop."

  Reese frowned. "Great, just what I need…more work.”

  "Hello?" the woman called out. "Please, can you help us?"

  "Sounds like she needs help…” Jo said.

  "Could be a trap…” Reese countered.

  "So, what are we going to do?" Jo asked. "She’s still talking…”

  "Please! Will you help us?"

  "I can't risk it…” Reese said through clenched teeth. "I want to…but if it's a trap…” He looked northwest. "Cami and Amber are just a little ways that way…”

  "And if they were over there,” Jo said with a sad smile as she jerked her head toward the strip mall, “would you want some good Samaritan to help them?"

  Reese clutched the shotgun in both hands and looked down at the ground. He put the butt of the scattergun on the pavement and pressed his forehead against the length of the cool barrel. "Dadgum it…”

  Jo squeezed his shoulder. "I always knew you were a good man." She stood up and turned to face the people across the street. "Hello over there! Hang on, we’ll be right there."

  Chapter 7

  Lavelle Homestead

  Bee’s Landing Subdivision

  Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina

  Darien put his hands on his hips as he stood on Cami Lavelle's back deck. The men around him had paused the repair work to listen to his plea, but he was already losing them. "Look," he tried again, “all I'm saying is now that the storm’s over, we should go after Cisco and put an end to this once and for all."

  Gary, the tall man that had run off at the height of the storm to rescue Cami on his own, looked up at him and shielded his eyes from the sun. "You said it yourself just a second ago,” he said to Darien, “they’re on the ropes. The storm, as bad as it was on us, was ten times worse for them, stuck out in the open like they were." He looked around at the others. "Way I see it, the storm probably did us a favor and drowned half of them."

  "That's just my point," Darien pleaded. "We don't know—nobody found Cisco's body after the attack," he said as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the bullet-riddled home behind him. "Yeah, I know, the missing truck, the two murdered families, and the looted houses...” he said, holding up a hand to stop the arguments already on the lips of the other men. "I heard the news just like you. That just proves that Cisco survived! It's got to be him, he's the only person I know that would've been so—“

  "That right there’s your problem," Gary said as he stepped forward. "You knew him. You brought that piece of filth into this neighborhood. Why should we listen to what you want to do?"

  Darien ground his teeth together as he clenched his jaw. He took a breath before answering. "Cami put me in charge, and she did it for a reason. I'm telling you guys, I'm on your side—"

  "Yeah, well, you fought with us well enough—I'll grant you that," Gary said. He hooked his thumbs under his utility belt that held a hammer, a bag of nails and a couple screwdrivers. “That goes a long way toward establishing trust, but we don't fully trust you yet."

  "We’re wasting time," Darien said as he turned away and grabbed the bullet-riddled railing.

  "What's going on?" asked Cami, as she emerged from the house.

  Darien hadn't heard her come out of the house. Fixing the squeaky door had been his top priority when the storm faded. And no one had said a word—not one single ‘thank you.’

  Maybe Harriet’s right…maybe the people of Bee’s Landing are just flat-out ungrateful.

  He watched Amber help Cami toward him. The wounded leader of the neighborhood looked up and smiled at him as she struggled forward.

  No, I've got to try…at least one more time.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but Cami raised a hand to stop him. "Before you say anything, there's something I'd like to talk to you about.” She paused and looked over at the workers who watched with rapt attention. “I’d kind of hoped to talk with Darien in private…?”

  "Oh," Gary blurted. "Of course—yeah. Come on guys, there's plenty of work to get done—let's get to it." With agreements all around, the group of men trundled off to find work on the other side of Cami's house.

  Their departure left Darien alone with Cami and Amber. They stood shoulder to shoulder, and though Amber was the same height as Cami, he realized she must look more like her father, though she definitely had Cami’s fair skin and the red highlights in her auburn hair had to have come from the cascade of flaming waves that graced Cami’s head.

  Cami leaned on her old neighbor’s cane and winced. Amber quickly pulled up a chair for her and plopped her mother down. "Thanks, honey," Cami said as she patted her daughter's hand. "Have a seat, Darien," Cami said in a tired voice. “You don’t need to stand.”

  "I'm good," Darien replied coolly as he crossed his arms and leaned against the rickety deck railing. The wood groaned under his weight, so he shifted his feet and waited.

  "Look,” Cami began, “before I go any further, I just want to say thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.” She looked at him with eyes that barely held back tears and smiled.

  Darien blinked. God, she really means it.

  “Not only for watching over my daughter,” she continued, “but for keeping everything together here." She shook her head, and Darien got a good glimpse of some of the bruises around her neck and cuts on her face. The storm—and Cisco—had not been kind to her at all. He couldn't imagine living through captivity under the hands of a madman, only to escape, then throw himself out into the teeth of a hurricane for 36 hours.

  She wiped at one cheek where a tear had escaped her eyes. "This whole place would've fallen apart if you hadn't been here."

  Darien relaxed, and rested his hands on the railing. "Cami, I was only doing what I thought was right. You asked me to help, so I did. Honestly, I figure it was the least I could do after all the trouble I've caused here."

  Cami turned with a sigh and looked out over the yard, taking in all that debris from the storm: shingles from the roof, a piece of plywood from a window, part of the shed, branches and leaves everywhere. "It's a hot mess, isn't it?" she asked in a soft voice.

  "That it is." Darien winked at Amber. “We’ll get it fixed.”

  A squeal of laughter echoed around the side of the house and Mia Stevens’ boys appeared, chased by Jon Boy. Darien couldn't help but smile at the sight: Jon Boy ran ahead of the boys—less than half his size—crouched behind the corner of the shed and pointed toward the woods. "Look!” he cried in a high voice that seemed comical for his physical size. It was like watching a lion run with a couple domestic kittens. “Here come the bad guys! What are we gonna do?"

  The younger boys ran up on either side of the gentle giant and crouched. "We gotta take the fight to them! We never give up!"

  All three mocked swords—with dramatic sound effects—then charged off toward the remains of the garden, swinging to and fro at invisible enemies.

  "That right there makes everything worth it," Cami observed. She looked at Darien, a wide smile on her face. “It’s the only reason why we fight at all."

  Darien nodded. "It should be the only reason why we do anything. But it's not." He looked at Cami. "Cisco’s still out there, you know that, right?"

  She shivered, as if a cold wind swept down out of the trees. "I know. I can feel it."

  “Then you know what we need to do," Darien said quickly. "We should strike, and hard, while we got the chance. We have numbers on our side now. Like you, they were out there in that storm the whole time. They don't have any shelter at that camp to speak of—we should hunt them down and put an end to this."

  Cami looked at him for a long moment as her smile faded, then sat back in her chair and sighed. She tapped her fingers on the head of the carved cane, then looked up at him. “Part of me wants to agre
e with you. But I've been talking with Marty…”

  Darien looked down. "Here we go."

  "He understands strategy, and he knows how to fight. He thinks that we need to shore up our defenses before we do anything else. Look at it this way," Cami said quickly when Darien was about to interrupt. "First they took Amber—we went out and brought her back. Then they took me. I got away, and the storm hit, then Cisco hit. We've lost too many people over this. Too many houses have been damaged by the storm. Darien, we can't keep pushing and pushing and pushing. At some point, we've got to rebuild."

  "Cami, I think this is a mistake,” Darien said with a shake of his head. “We can have all the time in the world to rebuild, once Cisco is gone for good.” He spread his hands. “If we stop now and rebuild this place," Darien said as he gestured at the backyard. "That'll just give him time to rebuild, too. He'll come back, and he’ll hit us harder than ever. He's going to keep coming at us until we finish him off—I guarantee it.”

  Cami shook her head, her face a mask of pain. “I can't risk it," she said in a scared voice. "I can't. My house isn't safe, this neighborhood isn't safe, my daughter isn't safe,” she said in a stronger voice as she looked up at him. “We've got to build up our defenses. Now.”

  "So, your mind’s made up on this?" Darien asked. He tried…and failed. Again.

  "I'm afraid it is," Cami said as she struggled to her feet. Amber was by her side in a heartbeat. She looked at Darien with sympathetic eyes, and offered a small shrug.

  Darien exhaled. “Okay, then.” He crossed his arms. “I think you’re making a big mistake. What's the plan, then?"

  "This side of the neighborhood is the closest to Cisco and the remains of his camp—if there's anybody still out there. We need to build up our defensive capability over here first. Marty recommends we use trees."

  Darien looked at her. "Trees?"

  "Yeah, like the way you built the redoubt there," Cami said as she pointed with her chin at the sturdy triangle structure off the corner of her house. "He thinks we ought to do it old school. Cut down trees, sharpen the ends, and drive them into the ground. A real colonial palisade, you know?"