The Fields of Lemuria (Sequel to The Walls of Lemuria) (Purge of Babylon)

by Sam Sisavath

  “Look who’s talking. The guy who slept last night in the woods voluntarily.”

  Zachary grinned. “Good point. I’ll see you when I see you.”

  “Don’t wait for me.”

  Zachary nodded, turned, and continued forward.

  “Adios, San Diego!” Shorty shouted, just a bit too loudly.

  The sight of them vanishing between two huge trees was surreal. Shorty and Zachary, in their ghillie suits, looked like monsters hauling off an unconscious victim. If he were a child, it might have given him nightmares.

  Keo slid behind a tree and faced back toward the park visitors’ building before taking inventory of what he had left.

  There was the Sig Sauer .45 he had taken back from Norris. It still had eight rounds. The AK-47 was still loaded with the full magazine, which was thirty more.

  Thirty-eight bullets.

  I’ve had to make do with less.

  *

  He waited and listened. It sounded as if the vehicles were spreading out, going in different directions, trying to cover as much ground as possible.

  He was trying to figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The point here was to draw the chase to him and away from Shorty and Zachary. But if the pursuers were spreading out, he wouldn’t be able to effectively do that—

  The man burst through the bushes on a beat-up yellow Yamaha, turning all the scenarios in his head into a moot point.

  The all-terrain vehicle was chewing up the ground at a fast clip—probably moving a little too fast for someone traveling in a world full of unmovable objects that could end his ride at any second with the slightest wrong turn. The man didn’t seem to notice the potential dangers, though, and Keo was glad to see he was alone.

  The vehicle was twenty meters away when Keo spun out from behind the tree and into the oncoming vehicle’s path. He was close enough—and getting closer with every second—to see the rider’s widening eyes.

  He fired off a burst, shattering one of the front headlights. Pieces of the brake lever exploded and filled the air. A split-second later the rider flipped backward off the seat, which kept going long after it had lost its rider. Keo cursed and ran out of the vehicle’s path as metal and plastic and chrome flashed by him in a blur, two inches or so from clipping him as it continued going on its own before smashing into a tree and coming to rest.

  Keo stumbled back up to his feet and rushed forward.

  The man was still alive, though his legs looked like pretzels under his awkwardly positioned body. One hand was clutching his stomach, where blood squirted out between his fingers, while the other was reaching for his weapon, which had fallen during his tumble and now lay a few feet from his outstretched hand.

  Keo smiled at the sight of the Heckler & Koch MP5SD on the ground. He picked it up and gave the familiar dents and scratches a quick brush with his fingers. He didn’t think he’d see it again, so it had to be fate that the submachine gun would, literally, fall back into his lap.

  Fucking daebak.

  He crouched next to the rider, ignored the man’s pleading eyes, and opened his pouches and pulled out three long magazines and two shorter ones for the 9mm Glock that Keo also pulled out of a holster. The man grimaced silently through the pain, pale blue eyes watching Keo with a measure of anticipation and hate.

  “Is Pollard alive?” Keo asked him.

  The man stared at him, but didn’t answer.

  “How many of you are still out there?”

  Nothing.

  “Ten? Twenty?”

  The man closed his eyes and seemed to drift off to sleep. He was still alive, judging by the slight rise and fall of his chest under his assault vest, though probably not for long. Keo had seen guys who had been gut shot before. It was never pretty, and it never ended well.

  “Fine, be an asshole.”

  Keo unclipped the man’s radio, stood up, and jogged off.

  He could already hear the other ATVs coming in his direction, having broken off from their previous paths to respond to his gunfire. Good, because he had been afraid they would keep going after Zachary and Shorty.

  He picked up his pace, tossing the AK-47 and flicking the fire-selector on the MP5SD from semi-automatic to full-auto. At least he had his weapon back, so things were definitely starting to look up.

  After a minute of silently walking back toward the shoreline, following in Zachary and Shorty’s footsteps, Keo began to slow down. He could still hear the ATVs coming, but they were still far off.

  What am I doing?

  Good question. He needed to keep going. Zachary wasn’t going to wait forever at the beach with Norris. There was no reason to still be inside the woods after today. He had rescued Norris, and now he could retreat to the island and wait them out. Sooner or later, Pollard (if he was even still alive) would have to leave when their supplies ran low, or when the creatures finally, eventually, broke through the park visitors’ building.

  So what was he doing, standing still? It was a no-brainer.

  Wasn’t it?

  He didn’t know when he decided (or if he did at all; everything was a blur), but soon the radio was in his hand and he had pressed the transmit lever and was lifting it to his lips.

  “Pollard,” he said into the radio. “You still alive?”

  He waited for a response.

  He’s dead.

  Five seconds…

  Thank God, he’s dead.

  Then ten…

  See you in hell, Polla—

  “You did that,” the familiar voice said through the radio. There was no enthusiasm or hate, or even emotion. It was just a simple statement of fact. “Last night. That was you, wasn’t it?”

  Pollard.

  The man was like a cockroach. Then again, he was sure Pollard could say the same thing about him.

  “I did,” Keo said.

  “How?”

  “You weren’t the only one who wanted a piece of me last night, as it turned out.”

  “Lou,” Pollard said without hesitation.

  “I guess I killed his brother or something.”

  He craned his head and listened for the ATVs. They were either still far off or they had gone in the wrong direction, because he could barely hear them anymore. Keo found himself looking back north, toward where he assumed Pollard was at the moment.

  “A lot of that going around these days,” Pollard said, “you killing people’s loved ones.”

  Keo smirked. “Fuck you, Pollard. You pull a knife or a gun on me and I’ll piss on your bloodline.”

  “Charming.”

  “I’ve been called worse.” Then, “Hey, Pollard.”

  “What?” There was a noticeable agitation in Pollard’s voice that time, something that wasn’t present before.

  The calm is breaking. Let’s see how much control you really have, Pollard.

  “I’m coming for you,” Keo said. “You think I’m going to keep running? Think again. I’m coming, and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.” He paused and waited for a response. When he didn’t get anything after five seconds, Keo continued. “Are you ready for me, old man? This is what you’ve wanted all along. Who says dreams don’t come true, huh?”

  “Come on, then,” Pollard said. “Let’s finish this like the professionals we both are.”

  “You still think you know me, huh?”

  “I know plenty of guys like you.”

  “You just think you do. That’s the funny part.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “You’re right. I’ll see you soon, Pollard.”

  He turned off the radio and hooked it to his hip. Then he turned completely around and began walking north.

  Back toward Pollard…

  CHAPTER 15

  He didn’t blame Pollard for wanting him dead. Or for picking up his personal army and chasing him through the Louisiana woods for as long as it took. In the man’s shoes, Keo would have done the same thing. From a distance, Pollard looked as i
f he was in his late forties, maybe early fifties, and while it wasn’t too late for him to have another kid, it was definitely too late for him to shape a new son in his image.

  And what father didn’t want to mold their kid? Keo’s dad had wanted the same thing, until it became obvious his son just wasn’t interested in following his path. The Army had no allure for Keo, and neither did the old man’s strict, disciplinary ways.

  So yeah, Keo didn’t have any grudges against Pollard, even if the other man probably felt the exact opposite. It was bad enough realizing your bloodline might not survive the end of the world, but to actually have it survive and then be snuffed out? That had to be a real kick in the balls.

  Of course, understanding Pollard’s loss didn’t mean Keo wasn’t going to put a bullet in the man’s head the first chance he got anyway.

  Life sucks, then you eat a bullet.

  He moved through the woods with purpose, occasionally firing a shot with the Sig Sauer into the air to direct traffic toward him and further away from Zachary, Shorty, and Norris. The trio would already be moving slowly; they didn’t need an all-terrain vehicle bearing down on them, too. He, on the other hand, could deal with it.

  There were two more ATVs gunning for him that he could hear but not see. Three in all when the morning began. Just three, though. That was something of a surprise. He was almost certain Pollard would have more than just three men available after last night. Maybe the bloodsuckers had really done a lot of damage after all?

  Sucks to be them.

  *

  Keo had been walking and shooting into the air for the last five minutes when the second ATV finally found him. The problem with an all-terrain vehicle was that it was loud, and you could hear and feel the damn thing through the ground and even the trees, the branches vibrating as it approached.

  It was a red Honda, and there were two riding piggyback this time. The one in the back had his AK-47 raised with the barrel pointing up at the sky. That was useless, because Keo wasn’t above them. They were both men—thirties, maybe—and they wore the same black clothes and black assault vest. He wondered if those were all the clothes they had. Probably. It would certainly make dressing in the mornings easier. And there was that whole uniform look. It was something an ex-military guy like Pollard would come up with.

  Keo let them ride past him, the drag from the vehicle embracing him in cool air for the first time all morning. He basked in it just long enough to aim and shoot the second man in the back with the newly reacquired MP5SD. The man must have banged his head into the driver after being shot, because the other man jerked on the handlebars and the ATV turned sharply and nearly flipped over. Somehow, the man managed to regain control just in time, and the bike slid to a stop, dirt kicking into the air as the wheels locked up.

  As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, Keo shot the driver in the chest, then shot him a second time as he slumped forward before collapsing off the Honda. The man in the back did the same thing, both bodies sliding silently down to the ground.

  The ATV was leaking gas, but the engine kept churning for a few seconds before simply shutting off by itself. He guessed he must have hit something vital on it.

  Keo remained where he was, standing perfectly still and listening for sounds of the third—and final—pursuit vehicle, but he couldn’t detect it over the soft chirping of birds above and the scurrying of creatures along branches around him.

  There was nothing out there that didn’t belong. A big, fat nothing.

  Where did the last ATV go? Did Pollard recall it? That would have been the smart move, and Pollard was smart. He might be gathering his remaining forces back at the park visitors’ building right now, knowing Keo was getting closer.

  Keo continued north, walking at an unhurried pace.

  *

  “See the world. Kill some people. Make some money.”

  Things had been so simpler then, before the world decided to make his life complicated. He didn’t have anyone to worry about except himself, which had worked out for the last ten years.

  Then Gillian came along. Then Norris. Then the others.

  All of that, because he decided to stop in one lousy Louisiana town one day when he should have kept right on driving. A part of him wondered if he would be running around with Pollard now and not against him if he hadn’t stopped at Bentley that fateful day.

  Maybe. Maybe not. Who the hell knows.

  The sound of tiny feet scurrying along a branch above him made him look up. He saw the squirrel—it looked familiar, but of course it couldn’t possibly be the same one from that night he spent in the tree, could it?—running along a tree branch.

  It was fleeing something—

  The man jumped down from the branch where he had been perching for God knew how long, the distance between them about ten meters. His face was covered in a painted white skull, the sight of it like some kind of demon falling out of the sky to claim him. Gleaming black eyes glinted and a smile, like a Cheshire cat’s, spread wide.

  I know that face!

  Keo saw the man a split-second before he made his move. He wouldn’t have seen him at all if not for the squirrel. That brief moment was just enough time for Keo to twist partially around, but not quite enough opportunity to lift either the MP5SD or dive out of the man’s path.

  Knees slammed into his chest with the force of a boulder. Keo’s legs crumpled under him, but he somehow (and he had no idea how) still managed to hook his arm around the man’s neck even as their bodies collided in a crush of flesh and limbs and pain. For an instant, the man’s skull came within an inch of Keo’s.

  Up close, Keo was sure he recognized the face.

  Jacks.

  The one who had hit him in the back of the head with his AK-47. The familiar eyes, that permanently amused grin. Just remembering Jacks made the back of Keo’s head tingle. Christ, he hoped he wasn’t bleeding back there again, since he had almost forgotten all about it.

  Keo willed his entire body to keep twisting, even as the breath exploded out of his lungs, the result of Jacks’s knees to his chest. (What the hell did the guy think he was doing, some kind of martial arts movie? Muay Thai, maybe?) He was twisting, twisting—until he got Jacks underneath him as they fell, hard, to the ground.

  Keo ended up on top, and even as he struggled to breathe, was the first one to rise.

  The sun glinted off the sharp point of a knife in Jacks’s hand. Keo picked it up with the corner of one eye. When the hell had he gotten that out? The blade was moving in a wide arc, from right to left, bottom to top, aiming for Keo’s head.

  Keo struck out with his left hand, batting away the attacking knife. Before Jacks could counter, Keo smashed the heel of his right hand down and into the man’s face and felt rather than saw the nose giving way and the warm sensation of liquid (blood) splattering across his palm.

  Jacks might have grunted. Keo couldn’t hear anything anyway. He was too busy ignoring (or trying to ignore) the searing pain blasting across his chest at the moment. Was it possible to break someone’s chest cavity? Because that was what it felt like after taking Jacks’s knees full-on.

  He could barely breathe, but he managed to push aside that fact just long enough to reach down for the Sig Sauer in his hip holster and pull it out. Jacks’s eyes widened, even more than before, and that unseemly smile plastered on his face faded for the first time.

  “Not fair,” Jacks said through gritted teeth. “I could have shot you, but I didn’t.”

  “Your mistake,” Keo said—

  Knife!

  He jerked backward as Jacks slashed with the knife—right at the spot where he had been a millisecond ago. Keo stumbled completely off Jacks’s body, lost his footing, and fell on his ass to the ground, even as Jacks attempted to push himself up.

  Keo pulled the trigger. It was difficult to miss from less than a meter away. The .45 caliber round entered the bloody spot where Jacks’s nose used to be and exited the top of his head. Brain, bo
ne, and blood sprayed the humid air.

  Jacks slumped back down to the ground and lay perfectly still. The knife, somehow, was still clutched tightly in his right hand.

  Keo struggled back up on wobbly feet, exhausted from the fight, which had lasted—how long? A few seconds? Ten seconds at the most, even if it did feel longer. Like an hour. Or two.

  But no, it had only lasted a few seconds. Not even close to a minute.

  He holstered the Sig Sauer and staggered forward, seemingly incapable of standing still no matter how hard he tried. Maybe it was the effect of being hit in the back of the head yesterday by Jacks’s buttstock coming back with a vengeance. Was he bleeding again back there? He didn’t feel blood trickling down, but how much could he really trust his sense of touch at the moment?

  Keo had somehow made it to a nearby tree. He leaned against it for support, then slid down to the ground and rested. He wasn’t even aware he had the submachine gun positioned in front of him until he looked down and saw it gripped tightly in his hands.

  The radio clipped to his hip squawked, the loud mechanical noise making him jump for a moment, before he realized what it was.

  A familiar voice said through the radio, “You still alive out there, Keo?”

  Keo didn’t answer right away. He didn’t trust himself to respond. He sucked in more large breaths instead.

  “Keo?” Pollard said. “Don’t tell me you’re dead.”

  He finally unclipped the radio and held it up to his lips. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  How did he sound? Calm? In control? Or was he wheezing just a little bit? It was hard to tell because his ears were ringing for some reason. The good news was that his chest had stopped trying to burn a hole through his body.

  “On the contrary,” Pollard said, “I’m happy you’re still alive.”

  If Keo had sounded out of breath when he answered, Pollard hadn’t picked up on it.

  “I’m almost there,” Keo said into the radio.

  He drew the Sig Sauer and fired a shot into the air. He didn’t know why he did it. Why give away his position? It was such a stupid thing to do, and yet, the old Keo came back with a vengeance and he just couldn’t stop himself. Hell, he didn’t want to stop it.