by Alex Gunwick
After the birth, however, Sierra became the perfect big sister. She even helped Kyle learn to read.
Luke grinned, remembering how Liz tried to calm him down when Sierra painted Kyle’s toenails purple for a tea party.
Now all he had left of Sierra was the cold body on his shoulder and those memories.
Wordlessly, they trudged on. Luke almost wanted to cross paths with some of those COB bastards. He needed something to hit, something to stab, something to shoot. Blood wouldn’t ease the pain in his heart, but it would fill the void for a while.
That was dangerous thinking, but Luke didn’t care. The body of his child, growing stiff on his shoulder, knocked aside any concerns for his own well-being. He would hack his way through flesh and bone if that’s what it took to keep the rest of his family safe. He’d enjoy sending some of those zealots to hell.
Derek came abreast of him, his lips thin and tight.
“Got something to say?” Luke growled.
“Do you want me to take a turn—take a turn carrying her? I mean, are you tired or—”
“I’m fine.” Luke increased his pace until he left Derek behind a few paces. The younger man struggled to keep up but didn’t speak again.
The weight of his dead daughter was a constant, painful reminder of his failure and loss. Perhaps he’d been too hard on her. If he’d been a kinder, gentler parent, would she still have run off into the wilderness?
It was tough to grow up as a military brat. Always moving. Dealing with a constant stream of new friends and being the perennial new kid in school sucked. Kyle always took well to it, but Sierra wasn’t as resilient.
If only the bombs hadn’t fallen. If only his life could go back to the way it was before all this madness. Maybe if he’d tried harder, he could have reached Sierra. But he hadn’t. He failed, and there was no way to fix things. Sierra was dead, and now his heart was shattered.
As they marched on, Luke tried to find the right words to tell his wife and son. There weren’t any. All he could think of was how badly he’d failed and how his heart would break again at the sight of his wife’s tear-streaked face.
Derek marched behind Luke. He questioned every decision he’d made since Sierra had followed him three days ago. The misery and guilt of her death weighed him down. With a heavy heart and leaden legs, he forced himself to trudge forward.
Not only did he feel shame and remorse over what happened, but there was a healthy amount of fear as well. Sooner or later, Luke or someone else would notice the ligature marks on Sierra’s wrists. How in the world would he explain that?
He toyed with the idea of blaming the cultists, but he knew that wouldn’t do. Luke might want to know where she’d been held. He’d want revenge.
Derek wasn’t sure he could lie convincingly to Luke. Not about this. Not when he’d played a part in it. He’d messed up big time by keeping her at the shelter. If he’d sent her home, she would probably still be alive.
He’d held her captive so no one would find the location of the fallout shelter. But now Luke knew about it too. Maybe Derek should have come clean from the beginning. He could have hiked back with Sierra and told Luke about the place, but he didn’t. He’d hesitated in order to give himself options. And now she was dead.
In the end, she’d been a good person. She’d cared for him when he’d been shot. Sure, she was a little inappropriate with her touches, but his wound hadn’t become infected. He was healing well, and he had no doubt Sierra had saved his life.
And how did he repay her? By getting her killed. All because he wouldn’t trust her. He’d made a grave error, a massive blunder.
If Luke learned about Derek’s mistake, Luke would probably kill him. It’s what Derek would do if he were in Luke’s position. Although Derek believed he could move a little bit faster than Luke, he’d be no match against a man grieving for his daughter.
Luke’s misery was palpable. It hung like an intangible pall over their silent journey. He could only imagine how devastated Liz and Kyle would be once they found out. Even if he wasn’t sure he could trust her, Derek deeply respected Liz for her tenacity, toughness, and willingness to do anything to protect her family. She was a good woman, and he’d all but killed her daughter. Dammit!
His rationale for holding her captive seemed so stupid now. Derek had been afraid to trust Luke and his family, but sooner or later, he would have to trust someone. He couldn’t go it alone. Even if he killed them all and took the fallout shelter for himself, what good would that do? He couldn’t handle all the work necessary to survive alone. He’d need help, and Luke had just as many skills as Derek did, if not more.
Aside from that, a military man like Luke wouldn’t betray someone with the skills and training Derek possessed. Luke wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t have killed Derek to take over the shelter. Luke would have shared the bounty with Derek if he’d been the one to find it first.
They still had to deal with the remaining members of the Children of the Bomb. As long as they were alive, they would remain a threat. They’d have to be handled quickly.
Up ahead, Luke tripped over a stone peeking out from the snow. The older man regained his footing quickly enough, but Derek was still concerned. Carrying all that weight had to be rough after a while.
“Here, let me take a turn.” Derek reached out and touched Sierra’s shoulder. Luke jerked away. Derek grabbed Sierra’s cold, rapidly stiffening arm instead.
“Don’t touch her.” Luke snarled. His eyes narrowed to slits as his gaze flitted to where Derek touched Sierra’s arm. His eyes widened as they took in the bruising around her wrist.
“I can explain!” Derek let her arm fall and took a half step backward.
Luke sputtered, unable even to form coherent speech. He carefully set Sierra’s body down in the snow and examined both of her wrists.
“What is this?” Luke demanded. “What. Is. This?”
Derek sighed and held up his hands in supplication.
“She followed me. She shouldn’t have. I had to do it. I didn’t want her to reveal the bunker’s location until I was ready.”
As Luke stood, his entire body trembled with rage.
“She followed you.” His voice was exceptionally calm, but his eyes were black with rage. “She followed you, and instead of sending her home to her parents, you, what? Tied her up?”
“I swear I wasn’t ever going to hurt her.” Derek took another step back as Luke stalked toward him. “You have to believe me.”
“No, I don’t have to believe shit!” Luke jabbed a finger back toward Sierra’s body. “I want the whole story. The whole thing. From beginning to end. And I swear to God, if I think you’re lying to me, you’re going to wish for a merciful death.”
Derek winced. Luke was going to kill him if he didn’t talk really fucking fast.
“I never would have hurt her.” Derek stumbled over a rock as he continued to retreat. “If she hadn’t insisted on throwing herself at me—”
Luke snarled and launched himself at Derek. He drove Derek back against the rough bark of a tree. Derek didn’t resist when Luke took hold of his jacket and slammed him against the trunk a few times.
“Don’t you sully her memory, boy. Tell me what happened. From the beginning. Now!”
Derek launched into his tale. There was no point in lying. Luke would see right through him if he tried it. Derek told the truth in its entirety. He didn’t hold anything back, except the part about Sierra’s inappropriate touching. It wasn’t relevant to the story anyway, and he couldn’t risk getting killed by Luke. Not now. Not after finding the shelter.
As Derek spoke, Luke relaxed a little. The rage in his face dissipated. His grip slackened. By the time Derek finished his story, Luke barely held on to him at all.
“My daughter is dead, and you’re partly to blame.” Luke didn’t look at Derek when he spoke. His voice was monotone, almost numb. “But I don’t think you did enough to deserve to die.”
Luke
released him and walked back over to Sierra. He lifted her body over his shoulder. His dark eyes met Derek’s.
“I’ll be watching you, boy. I’ll be watching you.” Luke took off down the trail.
Derek stood against the tree for a moment. He’d dodged a bullet. Thank God Luke was a reasonable man. Derek took a deep breath. From now on, he’d have to trust Luke. Their fates were entwined now. Derek would be much safer in a group versus trying to go it alone.
After giving Luke a bit of a head start, Derek followed. The men didn’t speak again for the rest of the long journey back to the cabin. Luke didn’t slow down or take any rest breaks. He was a man on a mission.
Derek followed silently. He no longer dared to offer assistance. If Luke wanted to carry her the whole way, so be it.
As they approached the cabin, Kyle was the first to notice their return. He burst through the door and ran up the path toward the two men. Derek dreaded the boy’s inevitable heartbreak.
12
When Kyle’s piercing scream reached Liz’s ears, she knew right away her daughter was dead. She dropped the dish she’d been washing and ran out the cabin’s front door. As she raced toward her husband and Derek, she tried to cling to a glimmer of hope. Maybe Kyle’s scream was of excitement, not horror. But in her heart, she knew the truth.
When she caught sight of Sierra in Luke’s arms, Liz couldn’t deny the truth anymore. A primal scream ripped from her throat.
“No!” she wailed.
Kyle clung to Luke, pressing his face into his dad’s leg. Luke just stared at her as tears rolled down his cheeks.
Liz dropped to her knees. She stared up at Sierra’s pale face.
Dead! Her baby was dead!
“Give her to me!” She stood and grabbed for her daughter. Luke gently lay her in Liz’s arms.
“No! No! No!” Kyle screamed over and over. He shook his head from side to side. “It’s not real! It’s not true!”
Liz threw an arm around his shoulder. She embraced both her children, the living and the dead.
She’d failed Sierra. She’d failed as a parent. No mother should have to bury her daughter. It wasn’t natural.
She brushed Sierra’s hair back from her face and rested her daughter’s head in her lap while she sniffled through more tears. She couldn’t hold back the pain any longer, and she sobbed until her nose was clogged and her throat went raw.
Luke, obviously exhausted, collapsed in the snow. She could hardly look at him. Although she knew it was completely irrational to blame him, she wanted to scream at him and demand to know how he could have let this happen.
“What happened? What happened to my baby?” She turned to Luke and Derek for answers.
“It was one of the Children of the Bomb,” Luke said.
Her gaze snapped onto Derek, and the big man positively wilted. He looked guilty as hell.
“Are you sure about that?” she asked Luke while glaring at Derek.
“As sure as I can be since I didn’t witness it,” Luke said.
“He shot her through the head.” Derek couldn’t meet her eyes when he spoke. “She didn’t—she didn’t suffer.”
Derek turned to Luke, looking nervous. But Luke stared grimly at his feet. Liz knew something was up between the two men but had no room in her brain to consider it. Grief and rage were all she could handle at the moment.
“A cult member killed my daughter.” Liz’s lips twitched into a snarl. “So, where is this cult member? Where is he? I want him to fucking pay!”
Without waiting for a response, she gently laid Sierra’s head on the snow. She scrambled to her feet and found a tarp on the porch. She used it to cover her daughter’s body.
She rose to her feet and snatched the rifle out of Luke’s hand. “I’ll kill him myself. Where is he?”
“Please, calm down,” Luke said softly.
“I’m not going to calm down! I’m going to kill the son of a bitch who murdered my daughter. Don’t you tell me to calm down!”
“He’s already dead,” Derek said. Liz’s gaze snapped to him. He licked his lips and spoke again. “He’s already dead. I killed him myself. And I hope he rots in hell.”
Liz dropped the rifle in the snow. She let out a strangled sob as she fell onto her hands and knees. It wasn’t fair. The only way she could deal with her rage and grief was to kill the man responsible. Now that chance was gone, gone forever, and there was nothing she could do but suffer.
She lunged at her husband. She battered Luke’s chest with her fists until he gathered her into a tight embrace. He didn’t try to say anything. He simply held on to her while she cried. They stood there, clinging to each other, while Derek tried to comfort Kyle. But it was no use. Their family would never be the same.
Hours later, Kyle sat on the floor of his room with his back against the door. The horrible terror and grief had faded for the moment, leaving him empty and numb. Even if Sierra had turned into an annoying teenage girl, she was still his sister. Or she had been his sister. Now her body lay under a tarp in the covered wood bin next to the cabin.
On the other side of the door, the grownups alternately grieved and made plans to deal with the cult. At some point, Sandy and Edwin Wright had arrived. Derek’s somber baritone informed them of the events that led to Sierra’s death. Sandy let out a miserable gasp.
“Oh, God. We can’t let them get away with this. Something has to be done about the Children of the Bomb.” She spat into the fireplace. “There’s nothing holy about those monsters.”
“We all know the cult is a threat.” That was his father’s voice, still thick and heavy with grief. “But they’re well-armed, and we’re outnumbered. Killing them won’t be that simple.”
“Well, maybe it should be,” Sandy muttered bitterly.
“I’m totally fine with killing them,” his mom said. “I’m ready to kill all of them.”
“It’s possible we won’t have to kill them all.” Edwin cleared his throat before he continued. “If we make their lives miserable enough, they might decide to pack up and move somewhere else. Most of them don’t have formal military training. They probably don’t have the fortitude for a protracted siege of the mountain.”
“How would we go about making them miserable?” The incredulity in Derek’s voice was palpable. “Liz already killed their leader, and all it accomplished was to stir them up worse. Like kicking a hornet’s nest. Sierra was the first one to be stung.”
“Are you suggesting my daughter’s death is somehow Liz’s fault?” Luke’s asked menacingly.
“No. That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Edwin’s voice rose an octave in his defense. Kyle hoped his father wouldn’t lose his temper and punch the older man. He liked Mr. Wright. “I’m just saying maybe making the cultists miserable would be safer than trying to kill them.”
“If it’s kill or be killed, I know what side I’m on,” Liz said. “I was all for mercy before, but not now. Not anymore. None of them deserve to live.”
Kyle considered his mother’s words silently. A few days ago, his mother and Mr. Wright argued for peace with the cultists. Now, she advocated open warfare. He was on her side and wanted to kill all the cultists.
“Let’s not make any hasty decisions.” Luke’s voice held conviction. “I want to kill them as much as anyone here, but we have to be rational about this. We don’t have the manpower, the weaponry, or the ammunition to carry on a protracted campaign against the cult.”
“Maybe we don’t have to fight,” Liz said. Kyle was shocked by his mother’s icy tone. “Maybe we can poison their food supply or their fresh water.”
“I wouldn’t mess with the food. I’d prefer we take any provisions for ourselves. And as far as poisoning their water goes, that’s not a viable option,” Derek said.
“Why the hell not?” Liz demanded.
“All the streams and lakes around here are part of the same aquifer. If we poison the cult, then we’d be potentially poisoning ourselves as w
ell,” Derek said.
Kyle couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Why were they talking about poisoning stuff? They could hunt each of the cultists down. Hell, Kyle could take out a few just like he did with the rabbits. They deserved it for what they did to Sierra. Why wasn’t everyone loading up and heading out?
He decided then and there he’d do whatever it took to put every member of the cult in a shallow grave. No, not a grave. He would let their bodies rot in the open, leaving them to be picked apart by carrion eaters. Yeah, that would be awesome.
Kyle stood carefully. The adults assumed he was crying in his room, and that’s the way he wanted to keep it. He took down his rifle from the rack over his bed and held its comforting weight in his hands. He grabbed several boxes of ammunition and stuffed them into his coat pockets. In the back of his mind, some tiny voice cried out that this was extremely dangerous, even stupid, but he was beyond his ability to care. The only thing on his mind was revenge.
He set the rifle on his bed and eased the window up with agonizing slowness. He threw constant glances over his shoulder, certain his mother or father would burst in at any second and stop him, but they remained embroiled in their meaningless debate.
Kyle threw his leg over the windowsill, straddled it, and then dropped to the snowy ground. He carefully reached back into the room to retrieve his rifle. He set it against the cabin then dragged the window shut. It closed with a soft thud. He waited for a second to make sure no one noticed him leave, and then he took off at a run from the cabin.
Night had fallen. He ran as fast as he dared through the dark forest until his breath came in short, ragged bursts and his side ached terribly. The idea of getting caught by his parents was somehow more terrifying than the possibility of getting killed himself. He wanted revenge, and he’d kill anyone who got in his way. Not his parent’s, of course, but anyone else. But if he got caught, his dad would whoop his ass.
When he was far enough away from the cabin, he slowed his pace. He remembered the man he’d hit with his hatchet. He’d saved his mom’s life. But damn, there was so much blood. He’d almost barfed.