She stood in her ruined kitchen and looked down at Gary and Mia, who helped Elizabeth slowly sit up, now that she’d regained consciousness. She watched, emotionless, as Elizabeth turned suddenly and threw up all over Mia. To her credit, the younger woman didn’t react, didn’t recoil, didn’t do anything except pull Elizabeth’s hair gently out of the way and lean over the injured woman to murmur reassurances. For a split second, Cami wished she could be that calm, that collected.
Gary looked up, his face creased with worry which went blank when his gaze fell upon her face. “Cami…Elizabeth—Mitch went after them…Amber…”
She didn’t say anything. She went to the front room, ignoring the scene of her ruined kitchen. The chairs had been overturned, and the table splintered. She didn’t care and found it curious she hadn’t noticed when she’d first walked into the kitchen. “Amber…” she muttered to herself. Her voice sounded far away, as if it had come from someone else or down a long tunnel.
Marty groaned from the living room and she quickened her pace. She found him trying to sit up against the wall. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth and had dribbled down his chin. More blood splattered the carpet. Had she seen that before?
“Marty,” she said as she rushed to his side and knelt. “Are you hurt?”
He looked at her and grunted as Kirk tried to lick his face. “Nothin’ that anyone can fix.” He looked away. “I’m sorry…I tried to stop them…it’s my fault. I should have been…I should have been faster…all these dadgum people seein’ your supplies…we lost our opsec…”
“What?” Cami demanded as her hands fluttered over his wounds. “You’re laying here bleeding out on my living room floor and you’re worried about who saw our stuff?”
Kirk whimpered and curled up at Marty’s side, then proceeded to lick a wound on his hind leg.
“They shot my dog,” Marty said, his voice on the edge of breaking. “Poor ol’ boy…”
Cami looked at Kirk, whose bloody muzzle revealed he’d left a mark on someone. “It looks like they just grazed him…I think he’ll be okay.”
“It’s all my fault…” Marty moaned as he scratched behind Kirk’s ears. “I’m sorry, boy…”
“No, don’t say that,” she said without any conviction. A part of her wanted to say it was his fault that her baby girl had been taken. He’d been armed, a veteran, and they’d taken Amber, anyway. The sane, rational part of her knew he was also a frail, old man and she couldn’t pin the blame on him. It was Darien’s fault—he’d brought the scumbag who kidnapped Amber into the neighborhood in the first place. Twice.
“It is my fault,” Marty insisted in a weak voice. “If I’d just told y’all I had this problem with m’ticker instead of bein’ too dang proud to mention it…I wouldn’t have passed out at the party…been dragged back here like a chunk of roadkill. She…Amber…she was distracted…” he sighed, placed a hand on his chest. “She was distracted with me and I only got one of ‘em…”
Tears blurred Cami’s vision as she placed her hand on the old man’s cheek. “Oh, Marty…you did get him…he’s out in the front yard.”
Marty spat to the side and left a new red mark on the carpet. “Good riddance.”
“Wait…” Cami said as she wiped her face. “What do you mean a problem with your ticker?”
Marty sighed and collapsed against the wall. What little strength left in his body seemed to leech away right before Cami’s eyes. “It’s a heart condition. Had it for the past fifteen years or so. Docs…” he swallowed and winced, his eyes still closed. He took a few breaths, quiet as a whisper, and continued. “Docs put me on some meds…seemed to do the trick. But I can only get a 30-day supply, and I was due to get my next month’s dose the day after the tsunami hit.”
“Oh, Marty…” Cami said as the tears fell from her cheeks.
“Don’t you worry ‘bout me, none, missy. I’ve lived well beyond my time. I’m so tired…you just make sure that Spalding woman don’t get upstairs, or…” he coughed. “Or out in that garage where you keep all your stuff…you hear?”
“I…sure…we’ll keep the gear safe—Marty, how long do you have before…?”
He turned and looked at her, his head still resting against the wall. “I plumb run out of pills about two weeks ago.”
Cami choked back a sob and wiped at her face with the heel of one bloodied hand. “Is that…is that why…?”
“Been goin’ downhill?” Marty snorted, then coughed. “Yep. Reckon so.” He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes again. “Won’t be long, now, I figure…maybe a couple days…a week…who knows?” He reached out one trembling hand and placed it on Cami’s “I am more sorry than you’ll ever know about your girl. I tried…but this dang old body betrayed me.”
“You did good, Marty, you did real good,” Cami said as she wiped her face.
“I want to help get her back…” he said as his own eyes watered. “There’s got to be something…something this worthless old man can do…”
Cami leaned in and hugged him, sobbing. She couldn’t hold it back any longer. The animals had taken her daughter. The tsunami had taken her husband. And now age was going to take Marty. “I just want to hang on to something…” she cried.
“Well, you’re doing a pretty good job with my neck,” Marty wheezed.
Cami laughed and let go, eventually regaining control of her tears and calming her breathing. Marty watched her, a mix of sadness, remorse, and jealousy on his face. His eyes twinkled, but she couldn’t tell if from mischief or unshed tears.
“Now that we got that out of our system…” he said gently. “How are you gonna get your daughter back?”
Cami looked at the ground and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and breathed out through her nose, calming her tingling, hyperactive nerves.
“I’m going to hunt them down, and I’m going to kill each one of them.”
Marty patted her hand and smiled. “Good girl.”
Footsteps behind her made Cami look toward the foyer. Flynt stood there, shirtless, his body covered in smeared soot. Harriet appeared right behind him, her sun dress coated in gray, sweat-soaked soot down the front. His mouth was set in a grim line. “You’re going to need help.”
She glared at him. “You want to help? After bringing those—“
Marty gripped her hand and wheezed, “Every man…” he coughed. “Every man deserves the chance to atone for his sins.”
Cami stared at Flynt. Though he didn’t speak, she thought she saw pleading in his eyes. There was something else there…an anger she recognized in herself. The anger of the betrayed. She nodded, her eyes still locked on his. “We’ll see.”
“Is there anything I can do?” asked Harriet. Her voice was thick, the result of all her crying.
“Not unless you can bring my daughter back,” Cami spat.
Marty squeezed her hand again.
Cami looked down. “Thank you, Harriet…no.” She looked up. “Actually yes. Can you help Gary and Mia with Elizabeth? Or check on the kids? I think I hear them crying upstairs.”
“Ah…” Marty said quickly. “Why don’t you let their momma go see to them?”
He squeezed Cami’s hand sharply.
She blinked. All their supplies were stashed up in the spare bedroom or in the garage. Letting Harriet wander around unsupervised up there would be disastrous—considering the company she kept. “Yeah…yeah, that’s probably better.” She looked up at Harriet and managed to force a grimace-smile. “Can you help with Elizabeth?”
Harriet wiped at her face. “I’m actually pretty good with kids.” She smiled, but it wavered. She dabbed at her eyes and turned for the kitchen upon hearing the wailing from upstairs. “But…they probably need their mother.”
“Got to be real careful now,” Marty mumbled. He closed his eyes and winced, his grip tightening on Cami’s hand. His body stiffened as the wave of pain passed, then he relaxed with a sigh. “Gonna have to tell e
veryone about your stuff at some point, missy. Someone’s bound to find out and there’ll be hell to pay.”
“I know, I know…I hate keeping secrets,” Cami whispered. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “I don’t have time for this right now…”
“Get your girl back, then you need to focus,” Marty wheezed. “You done good so far, but this place needs to be a fortress, you hear?”
A shadow crossed the threshold and John Douglass appeared, toting a black and gray AR-15. He looked flushed and sweat dribbled down his cheeks. He’d been wearing jeans and a t-shirt when she’d seen him at the fire. Now he was decked out head to toe in woodland camo. He took a look at Flynt and frowned, then shouldered past him and walked to Cami.
“I ran back to my place and geared up. Told Merle to spread the word.” He paused for a second to catch his breath. “We’re with you, Cami. We’re ready to get Amber back. We’ll have a dozen men out front in a few more minutes.” He moved to Marty and checked on the old veteran.
“Douglass, c’mere,” Marty said as he waved weakly with his free hand. “There’s something…something I want you to do…”
Cami stood and wiped her face. She felt the smear of blood on her cheek and frowned. She had to get Amber back.
Two of Darien’s men clattered to a stop in the foyer and looked around like they’d never been in a house before. “What is it, Franks?” Flynt snapped at the taller one.
“We got the second house fire put out. The first one’s a lost cause. It’s mostly collapsed in on itself now. It ain’t spreadin’, so we pulled back.” He looked at John and Marty, the blood, and Cami. “What the Kentucky’s goin’ on in here?”
“Cisco raided the house while we were putting out the fires,” Flynt explained. He put his hands on his hips. “He was looking for Harriet. He wants to get back at me, draw me out. Make me come after him.”
“Hoo boy, you got a target on you,” Franks replied.
Cami stood and brushed off her hands. “Cisco’s the one with the target on his back. I’m going to go change,” she said to John, still in conversation with Marty. “Those idiots probably left a trail a mile wide through the forest preserve.”
He looked up from the old man and nodded at her. “Just like trackin’ a wounded buck.”
Cami clapped him on the shoulder, then walked out of the room. She stopped in front of Flynt. “If you want to help, get any of your men that can track and hunt or any volunteers at all, and get ‘em here in five minutes. After that, we’re leaving.”
Flynt nodded. “Fair enough.”
As she went upstairs to change into her guide outfit, Cami heard Flynt issue orders to round up any men that had hunting experience, or children.
In her room, she went to the closet and pulled out her camo pants and shirt, her bush hat, boots, and gloves. Out in the hallway she heard the boys tear down the stairs with Mia following close behind as she admonished them to go slow, so they didn’t trip.
Cami stripped off her shorts and tank top, put on the well worn hunting gear and laced up her boots. The camo was warm and by the time she went to the gun safe, she was already sweating. Cami touched her finger to the biometric pad and opened the heavy door, then pulled out the .308 Amber had used as their sniper rifle and loaded the bandolier on the sling with cartridges. She grabbed two more magazines for her Glock and shut the safe. Back in the bedroom, she strapped her holster back around her waist and inserted the extra magazines in little clips at the small of her back. She readjusted her ponytail, tucked it through the gap in the back of her bush hat and secured it on her head. The Glock slipped into place at her hip then she slung the .308 over her shoulder and walked out of the bedroom.
Back downstairs, John had leaned his rifle against the wall in the foyer and drank a bottle of water while he watched Marty. A black backpack, bulging at the seams, rested at his feet.
“What’s that?” Cami asked, as she pointed at the backpack.
“A little favor for Marty,” John replied. He bent down to dig in the pack, then stood up with a tin of face paint in his hand. He handed it over to her.
“I don’t know if we need that much camouflage,” Cami said.
John grinned, and his face transformed into something scary. “It ain’t camo, it’s war paint. We ain’t takin’ prisoners.” He opened the lid and dipped two fingers into the black paint, then began to apply it to Cami’s face. It only took a few seconds, but he finished, then stared at a spot a foot above her head while he meticulously applied it to his own face. He made two horizontal slashes down each cheek from his sideburns to his chin, then one wide slash down the middle of his face, from his forehead down to the tip of his nose. He crossed a line under both eyes and over his nose. When he was finished, he looked at Cami and smiled and no longer looked human.
“I feel ridiculous,” Cami said.
“You look scary as hell,” Marty wheezed from the front room. “No quarter.”
“No prisoners,” John replied with a nod at the old man.
Marty grinned. “Dadgum, I wish I was goin’ with you…” Kirk lifted his head and looked at Cami, both ears cocked forward. He stared at her as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether she was friend or foe. “Easy, boy,” Marty soothed. The old vizsla sat, but his hackles remained raised.
Gary stormed into the foyer from the kitchen, Reese’s marine stainless steel shotgun in his hands. “I’m coming with you.”
Cami shook her head. “No, you’re not.” He opened his mouth to reply, but she spoke first. “I need someone I can trust to stay here and watch over Marty, Mia, and the kids. And Elizabeth needs you, too.”
Mia sat on the sofa and hugged her kids, while Elizabeth lay on the floor looking green. She glanced up at Cami and frowned.
“They took my boy,” Elizabeth said, pleading.
“No, they didn’t,” Harriet cut in from the stairs. She leaned on the railing and looked ready to swoon. “After they dragged Amber out, he chased them into the woods.”
Cami looked at Gary. “I need you here,” she said quietly.
Gary shook his head and stood, his face dark. “Cami—”
“Gary, I don’t trust Flynt or his people,” she whispered. “I can’t bring anyone back if I’m worrying about what’s happening while I’m gone.” Cami gripped his arm. “I need you here.”
Elizabeth tried to sit up and Gary knelt by her side in an instant. She slipped her arm in the crook of Gary’s arm and looked at Cami as he gently helped her to her feet. “We’ll…guard the fort,” she said, exhaling with the effort to stand. “Bring back Amber…”
“I’m not coming back without both of them,” Cami said solemnly.
“Best get moving,” John warned from the front door. “Flynt’s boys are gatherin’ out front. Our guys are in the side yard.”
Cami turned and stalked out the front door in silence. There were no other words to speak. They knew where she was going, they knew what she was going to do. She didn’t need luck. She needed a steady hand, and a clear target. She needed vengeance.
She walked out into the sunshine and stopped on the porch as Flynt brought his group into a semblance of order.
“Cami, I…” Flynt’s voice trailed off as he looked at her. He closed his mouth and swallowed. “Well.”
“Lady,” said a heavily muscled black man in the remains of a filthy gray jumpsuit behind Flynt, “I don’t know you, but I got two girls back home in Columbia. Y’all gave us a chance to start over when you let us in here. I ain’t gonna forget that. I may not be the best person…I’ve made my share of mistakes. But ain’t no one mess with my babies. No one. Anyone goes after kids deserves to be put down.” He spat in the grass.
Cami looked over the men Flynt brought. Behind him in two ragged lines were seven men. The man in dreadlocks—Rufus, Flynt had named him—smirked, but carried an AR and looked competent. Spanner, Flynt’s right-hand man, tall and lanky, also joined the group of stony-faced, desperate men
who’d too often found themselves on the wrong side of the law.
“I don’t know any of you, and frankly, whatever your stories are, doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you did before you came here. I only care about my daughter and stopping Cisco. If you’re willing to help me, I’m willing to call you a friend.”
“Every man here either knows how to hunt and track, or has kids of his own,” Flynt explained. “They know what it feels like to have family ripped away. The state did that to every one of them who’s served time.”
Cami nodded. “There’s a trail leading into the forest preserve. My daughter’s smart, she’ll fight every step of the way to make it easier for me to find her. Her friend, Mitch…he went after them already.” She paused. “I’m not coming back without both of them.”
“We goin’ after Cisco?” asked Spanner. He didn’t look at Flynt, he looked at Cami.
She shook her head. “If he’s an easy shot, I’ll take it and smile, but my daughter is the priority. And Mitch. I’m not hunting Cisco…yet…but any of his men who get in my way will die. If you’re comfortable with that, then let’s go. If not, stay out of my way.”
John stepped to the side of the porch and put his fingers to his lips. He whistled, a shrill, sharp sound that echoed across the street and circled his hand over his head. “Let’s go, boys!”
A cluster of men—volunteers from the defense teams who had fought in the battle—walked over from the side yard where they’d gathered. There were only five of them, but each one wore camo. Two had bows, the rest carried rifles.
Cami stepped down off the porch and walked around the house as the posse gathered behind her. Flynt jogged up to her side and matched her pace. “That’s some scary face paint—“
“War paint,” John said from over Flynt’s shoulder.
“War paint…” Flynt repeated. “It’s…you got a real ‘angel of death’ thing goin’ on.”
Cami looked at her reflection as she passed one of the few remaining windows left in her house. John had darkened her eye sockets with black paint and created hollows under her cheekbones. Her face looked like a skull. A shiver went down her spine as she glimpsed her own image. She didn’t recognize herself and her pace faltered. Then Cami thought of Amber and her resolve hardened.
Broken Tide | Book 4 | Backflow Page 13