After the EMP (Book 5): Chaos Gains

by Tate, Harley

  He exhaled on a laugh. “I told you the nicer neighborhoods always have the best shit. Spoiled rich kids know where to score.”

  “Whatever. I just want Jarvis to pay us like he promised so I can get the hell outta here. This place is full of pussies.”

  “And I plan to ride every last one.” The soldier grabbed his junk and grinned. “Meow.”

  Colt wanted to drop them both where they stood. They were worse than idiots. Cocky assholes and guns were a terrible combination.

  “Did somebody say meow?” A third soldier walked around the side of the house holding a wriggling sack in his hand.

  “What’s in the bag, Marty?”

  Marty shoved his hand into the sack and pulled a wriggling cat out by the scruff of its neck. Its hair matted in clumps over its sides, but from the blue points on its ears and the matching fur on its paws, it couldn’t be a stray. Someone paid dearly for that cat and now it hung by its neck in the hands of a bored young man.

  “Get that fleabag out of here. You know the orders: immediate disposal.”

  Marty shrugged. “I thought we could have a little fun with this one first.” His face contorted into a nasty grin. “Anybody ever seen a cat with a firework attached to its tail?” He pulled a wad of something Colt couldn’t see out of his pocket and held it up.

  “Aw, man. You’re one sick bastard.”

  “I know. Now come on and help me truss this bitch up. I can’t wait to set it off.”

  Colt tensed as the soldiers set to work wrangling the terrified cat. One of them rushed back into the house and emerged seconds later with a roll of duct tape while the other two held the sack over its face and front paws.

  He could take three of them. But what if more lurked inside? An angled-back Humvee fit four, five in a tight squeeze. But that didn’t mean anything. More could have been dropped off. Hell, they could be living in the house for all he knew.

  As much as he wanted to rescue the cat, he couldn’t risk it. With all of his wounds, he wasn’t operating at a hundred percent. It would be a suicide mission.

  Colt pulled the binoculars down, unable to watch. He would go back to Harvey’s house and regroup. Come up with a better plan. As he stood up and turned, a familiar voice trapped his breath in his chest.

  “Let the cat go! Let him go or I’ll shoot!”

  Day Twenty-Three

  Chapter Eight

  DANI

  Rockmill Homes Model House

  Eugene, Oregon

  1:00 a.m.

  Dani pressed the butt of the rifle tight against her shoulder. No way were those jerks going to light a cat on fire for fun. The soldier holding the duct tape twisted around, laughing as soon as he spotted her.

  “Ooooh, look here, boys. It’s another animal that wants to play.”

  The rifle dipped and Dani gritted her teeth to keep it level. Her left arm ached and her fingers cramped from digging into the front of the magazine well. Stupid weak arms. Colt never looked pained holding one of these.

  She hoisted it up again and braced her back foot against the concrete while she aimed at the man who spoke. “Put the cat down and I won’t shoot.”

  He snickered. “Do you even know how to shoot that, little girl?”

  Dani twisted to the left and pulled the trigger. The round whizzed past the soldier and drilled into the wood beside his head. She didn’t bother to reply.

  One of the two holding the cat stammered. “H-Hey, maybe we should—”

  Marty screwed up his face, the acne on his cheeks squishing tighter like one giant ball of rage. “Shut it, ass wipe. She’s bluffing.” He pointed the roll of tape Dani’s way. “Put that thing down before you really make me angry.”

  Dani aimed the barrel at center mass, smack on the name tape of Marty’s utility shirt. Despite the chill in the night air, sweat beaded across Dani’s forehead and down her temples, meandering in slow rivulets down her cheek before dripping onto her shoulders. The jerks needed to drop the cat before she dropped the gun.

  She repeated her demand. “Let the cat go.”

  “How about you give me the rifle and I won’t gut you like a fish before I put one between your eyes?”

  Dani swallowed. She came prepared for killing. The minute the bag went over the cat’s head, she made her decision. No way were these men going to hurt a defenseless animal just because they could. The world might have gone to hell, everyone she loved might be dead, and she might be signing her death warrant, but Dani wasn’t going to watch a cat be tortured.

  No freakin’ way.

  She inhaled slowly through her nose and out her mouth. Her index finger twitched on the trigger. I can do this.

  All of Colt’s training and advice had been about evading and surviving. Not shooting first. Not cold-blooded murder. But what were they? Each one of the men in front of her were worse than the ones in the apartment, weren’t they?

  She jerked her head up. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

  The question caught the soldiers off guard. Marty blinked at her, his face relaxing for a moment. The two holding the cat dropped the bag and the fur ball hissed and squirmed.

  It got a good swipe at one of the soldiers and he shouted as the cat’s claws raked across his bare forearm. His grip on the cat faltered and it landed on the concrete with another hiss before darting into the dark.

  “Damn it, Rob. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “The bastard scratched me!” Rob pressed his hand over the wound and droplets of blood oozed between his fingers.

  “So? It’s a cat for God’s sake! Man up, you pansy!”

  Rob stepped back in shock, his mouth half open as he gawked at Marty. “What the hell’s wrong with you anyway? The cat didn’t do anything to you.”

  The other soldier stayed silent, head bopping back and forth between Marty and Dani, unsure what to do. His hands still stuck out in front of him like he held onto the sack, but they were empty.

  Dani backpedaled two paces. Maybe she didn’t have to kill anyone. She lowered the rifle and relief flooded her arms.

  Marty noticed. He reached for a handgun in a holster on his belt and tugged it free. “You aren’t going anywhere, you little bitch.”

  Dani hoisted the rifle back up, ignoring the protest in her muscles. “You’ll be dead before you pull the trigger.”

  The corner of his lip cocked up in a sneer. “Wanna bet?”

  Everything slowed. Time. Dani’s heartbeat. The squeeze of her finger as she pulled the trigger.

  She could have been the Flash watching life stand still as she sped through time. The second the round burst from the barrel everything clicked into place and the moment ended.

  The rifle jerked up, Dani staggered back, and Marty stumbled. He yanked his own gun up, wobbling on his feet as his eyes went wide. “You shot me! You fucking bitch!” Shoving his fingers into a new hole in his pants, he jabbed at his thigh. His hand came back covered in blood. “I’m bleeding!”

  Dani took aim. She would kill him if she had to.

  Marty hauled his gun back up and focused on Dani. Before he could shoot, the front door slammed open.

  “Which one of you idiots is out here shooting? I said no target pra—” A man stepped out on to the porch wearing a green undershirt, camouflage pants, and shock on his face. He pulled his own service pistol up and aimed it at Dani. “Drop your weapon.”

  He glanced down at Marty’s leg and the stain of dark blood spreading across his thigh. “What the hell is going on?”

  “She shot me, sir!”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” He turned to the other soldiers, never once lowering his gun.

  The quiet one spoke up. “Sergeant O’Riley instructed us to hold a cat still so he could tape a bundle of firecrackers to its tail, sir.”

  The older man’s chest expanded as he inhaled. “That still doesn’t answer my question, Davis.”

  Dani spoke up. “I told him to let the cat go. He tried to sho
ot me instead.”

  “And Sergeant O’Riley is now standing here staining the concrete, because…?”

  “I shot first.”

  The soldier nodded, his gray eyes roving over Dani, Marty, and the two other men. From the way the two stood, practically quaking in their boots, Dani pegged the hard-to-read man as their leader. He lowered his gun as his lips thinned into a line. “Hand over your rifle, go inside, and get the first aid kit. You can fix your mess.”

  Dani blinked. “Excuse me?”

  He snorted. “You heard me. Give me the rifle you stole, patch up Sergeant O’Riley, and we’ll call it even.”

  Marty balked, the gun in his hand swinging in a wide arc. “Sir! She shot me!”

  “And I’ll finish the job if you don’t shut your trap, Sergeant.”

  Marty swallowed and lowered his weapon.

  Dani stated the facts again. “He was going to torture a cat. He tried to shoot me. ”

  “I don’t care if he was auditioning for the title role in a new daytime performance of Phantom of the Opera down at the University Theater.”

  Nothing made sense. Why was this guy not shooting her or trying to capture her and haul her off to Jarvis? She glowered at Marty. I should have shot him in the chest.

  The man in charge held out his hand. “Give me the rifle.”

  Dani jerked back. “It’s mine.”

  “It’s National Guard issue, honey, and you don’t look old enough to serve.”

  Dani’s lower lip jutted out before she caught it. “I didn’t steal it. Not from you, anyway.”

  “Doesn’t matter where it came from. It’s going back to the army. Now.”

  The man reached for the rifle, but Dani brought it back up, pointing it at his chest.

  “No. It’s not.” The unmistakable tone of Colt’s voice snapped Dani’s head around. He stood half in the dark, good arm holding a handgun tight. He motioned Dani back with a tip of his head and she complied, scooting into the shadows to stand alongside him.

  All of her fear and rage eased. Colt could handle these men. She resisted the urge to smile. Marty would get what he deserved.

  The man in charge squinted into the gloom. “I’ll be damned. Colt Potter, is that you?”

  “Damn straight, Larkin.” Colt lowered his weapon and stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Last I heard, you were knee-deep in bureaucratic bullshit. When did they clear you for duty?”

  Dani glanced at Colt in alarm. They knew each other? She swallowed down a wave of unease and stood still.

  Larkin’s tense face broke into a smile as he pumped Colt’s hand up and down. “About a year after you sweet-talked your way into the air marshals.” He motioned to Marty’s bleeding leg. “Davis, you and Stevens handle Sergeant O’Riley, here. The marshal and I have a bit of catching up to do.” He nodded at Dani. “She with you?”

  Colt glanced at Dani, his eyes unreadable from ten feet away. “Naw. She’s probably just a runaway.” He shrugged like she didn’t matter. “How about you let her go? It’s not like you need to babysit any more kids around here.”

  Larkin nodded. “You’re damn right about that.” He waved at Dani. “Get out of here, kid. Before I change my mind and take you back to my superiors.”

  Dani didn’t know what to do. Why would Colt pretend not to know her? And why would he be friendly with an army guy who worked for Colonel Jarvis?

  Colt and Larkin walked inside the house while the two other soldiers tried to help Marty into the house. He shoved them off and limped in by himself, only looking back to glower at her once. A small puddle of blood, thick and half-brown, remained on the front step and Dani stared at it as she backed up.

  I need to quit being an ungrateful idiot and get out of here.

  Whatever Colt’s motivations, he had saved her and the rifle. She spun around and slung the rifle over her shoulder before loping off into the darkness of the night.

  If Colt wanted to hang out with a bunch of soldiers who would kill him if they knew Jarvis ordered it, fine. She didn’t plan on sticking around until they figured it out. He could have his boy’s night.

  She had a cat to find.

  Chapter Nine

  COLT

  Rockmill Homes Model House

  Eugene, Oregon

  2:00 a.m.

  Colt eased down into a chair at the kitchen table while Larkin popped open a couple of beers. He leaned back and gave Larkin a bit of hell. “So how did a gimp-ass major end up in the National Guard? Thought they didn’t let assholes with broken backs stay on active duty.”

  Larkin laughed and handed over a beer. “It tastes like warm piss, but it’s the best we’ve got.” He eased into the chair opposite Colt and the lines around his mouth deepened with effort. “Turns out a couple fused vertebrae don’t matter to the Guard. After all that rehab at Walter Reed, I was cleared for non-combat duty.” He drank a few gulps of beer. “Guess they forget those restrictions when the world goes tits up.”

  Colt remembered the grueling rehab. He’d never seen so many grown men cry. Men who’d killed, men who’d fought alongside him as a SEAL, all reduced to tears because of some simple exercises. Walter Reed taught a man humility.

  He met Major James Larkin a couple of weeks into his stay. The man had broken his back in three places falling from a Blackhawk. When he was transferred to the rehab floor, he’d been a few weeks post-op and weaker than a granny with a heart condition. By the time Colt left six months later, Larkin still collapsed after a few steps.

  Colt couldn’t help but ask. “How long were you there after I left?”

  “At Reed? A year, at least. But it was worth it. Got my legs working and met my share of hot physical therapists.” He grinned. “Something about the back injury. They all loved me.”

  Colt shook his head and took a swig of the beer. He choked it down. “You’re right. This shit’s terrible.” He read the label. “Leave it to some overpriced home builder to only stock microbrewery crap.”

  Larkin nodded in agreement. “Right? Stupid idiots. I told my men to find some Budweiser but no luck so far. Can you believe college kids here don’t drink the cheap stuff? It’s all local breweries and imported garbage.”

  “Speaking of, where are all the students? Haven’t seen any around.”

  Larkin shrugged. “The colonel drove them all out of town, from what I’ve heard. Told them to get lost or get to work. Most of them chose to leave.”

  “Huh.” Colt took another sip of nasty beer. So far, Larkin didn’t seem concerned about his presence, but Colt needed to test the waters. If Larkin heard about his exploits, then the longer he sat in his swank little camp, the more dangerous it became. “You said there’s a colonel in charge? Isn’t a little National Guard unit below his pay grade?”

  His old rehab buddy leaned back in his chair. “You’d think so, but Jarvis took this one on personally for some reason. After we got official orders to retreat from Portland, I came here with a few of my men. The rest scattered. We’re only now getting integrated into the unit.”

  Colt nodded. Now it made sense why they were out in a model home away from the college campus. Jarvis hadn’t decided whether he could trust them. He drank some more beer as he glanced around. From what he could tell, Larkin had three guys with him. One now injured, thanks to Dani.

  As soon as he made it back to Harvey’s house, he would confront her about what the hell she was doing wandering so far from home in the middle of the night. But he couldn’t dwell on Dani now. “What’s Jarvis’s story?”

  “Don’t know, really. I heard he’s the deputy commander of the BCT. Don’t know much else.” Larkin pointed his bottle at Colt. “If you aren’t helping the unit here, what are you doing? Thought you were out of Sacramento these days.”

  “I was, until the damn lights went out halfway to Seattle.”

  Larkin almost spit out his beer. “No shit. You were up in the air?”

  “Yep. Watched the whole thing. We emergency-landed
just north of Eugene. I walked down here, got all the passengers situated, and I’ve been trying to figure out what to do ever since.”

  “Is that how you got hurt?” Larkin pointed at Colt’s bandaged arm.

  “Naw. That was a run-in with some idiots a few days back.”

  “Do they look worse than you?”

  Colt grinned. “Much.”

  Larkin smiled back. “Good.” He drained the rest of his beer and stood up. “I’m sure the Guard could use a guy like you.”

  Colt’s face fell, but Larkin didn’t see it. “I’m not much of a rule-follower anymore.” He straightened up in the chair. “I’d rather be on my own.”

  Larkin nodded as he dug two more beers out of a carton on the floor. “I hear you.”

  Colt pushed him a bit. “I’m surprised you’re willing to take orders. Aren’t you used to handing them out now?”

  “I don’t mind. So far we haven’t been asked to do much.”

  Colt drained the rest of his beer as Larkin walked back over and handed him a new one. “What if you don’t like what Jarvis is up to? From what I’ve seen, he can be a real pain in the ass.”

  Larkin shrugged. “Somebody’s got to be the bad guy, doesn’t he? At least this time it won’t be me.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I won’t do anything I don’t want to. If Jarvis thinks I’m going to be a puppet, he’ll learn soon enough that’s not the case.”

  Colt wasn’t about to tell the guy it wouldn’t be that easy. If Larkin wasn’t willing to break from the colonel now, he couldn’t tip his hand.

  They might have bonded in their time at Walter Reed, but Colt didn’t trust Larkin enough to expose his value to Jarvis. If Larkin brought Colt in, he’d be able to write his own ticket in Jarvis’s crew. Colt couldn’t risk it.

  He played it off. “You’re a better man than me. At this point, I’d rather just be on my own.”