Purge of Babylon (Book 8): The Horns of Avalon

by Sam Sisavath

  Troy and Erin sat on both sides of him on raised chairs, while the unnamed two that had come with him from Texas sat on a bench at the front. No one had said a word since they cast off, and the only noise was the wind roaring in Keo’s face. Although they had been traveling for some time, it didn’t look as if they had made any progress. Of course, that could have just been because the damn scenery never seemed to change.

  Eventually the never-ending blur of ocean and nothingness took their toll, and Keo stopped fighting the boredom and closed his eyes, only to wake up with a start when a hand pushed at his shoulder. He opened his eyes to the sight of Erin leaning in front of him with what almost looked like a smile.

  “What?” he said, shouting over the wind to be heard.

  “First and last warning,” she shouted back. “You nod off and fall overboard, and we’re not stopping to fish you out. Without your arms and legs, I’m guessing you’ll sink right to the bottom.”

  “Unless the sharks mistake you for snacks first,” Troy said. “Might be the most merciful thing. I hear drowning sucks.”

  “Sharks, huh?” Keo said.

  “It’s an ocean, numbnuts. There are sharks and a lot of other things out here you don’t wanna come face-to-face with.”

  Keo stared at Troy for a moment, wondering if the man actually believed that or if this was just a bad attempt at intimidation. He decided it might have been a little of the former and a lot of the latter.

  Troy grinned, proving him correct. “Just fucking with you, Bruce.”

  “Bruce?” Keo said.

  “He thinks you’re Chinese,” Erin said. “Bruce Lee?”

  “I’ve been mistaken for worse.”

  “Like what?” Troy asked.

  “A guy named Fred who I used to know back in the day.”

  “What’s so bad about Fred?”

  “That’s what Fred asked himself every day.”

  Troy gave him a puzzled look.

  Erin flashed Keo another almost smile. “Give him a minute. Troy can be slow on the uptake sometimes.”

  “Fuck off,” Troy said, and turned back into the wind.

  Keo took a second to scan his surroundings in case things had changed since he last had his eyes open. He shouldn’t have bothered. There was still just water—lots and lots of water—shimmering underneath the afternoon sun.

  “Almost there,” Erin said, as if reading his mind.

  “The Ranch?” Keo asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “So, what’s ‘there?’”

  “You’ll find out when we get there.”

  Keo looked ahead, and he didn’t see anything but an empty horizon and an endless field of blue water. “I don’t see anything…”

  “It’s out there.”

  “And what’s going to happen when we get there? Are you going to kill me, Erin?”

  “That’s not my call.”

  “Whose call is it?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  “When we get there.”

  She nodded. “That’s right.”

  Keo sat back and checked to make sure his jacket’s zipper was done all the way up to his neck. It might have been his imagination, but he swore it had gotten a lot colder since he was last awake.

  “I don’t think Troy likes me,” he shouted to Erin.

  This time she came so close to a smile that Keo decided to go ahead and call it one anyway, as she said, “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  * * *

  IT WAS an oil rig in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico.

  Keo had to admit, of all the possible locations for The Ranch he had considered, an oil rig had never occurred to him. Though, as he stared at the gray concrete foundations and yellow stripes crisscrossing the platforms, he thought it made perfect sense. It was isolated and surrounded by water, and even if it ever came under attack by collaborators, you wouldn’t need that many people to defend it. In fact, he counted at least a half dozen locations where snipers could hold off an assault force by inflicting enough damage to dissuade them. The crane sticking out of the side of the massive structure was one of those places.

  Keo looked over at Erin. “The Ranch?”

  “No. Just the ‘there’ before the real ‘there,’” Erin said. “It’s called the Ocean Star, and it’s just a waypoint station.” She kicked at one of the empty cans near his feet. “We need to refuel.”

  “So not The Ranch.”

  “I guess you’re not as dumb as you look,” Troy said.

  “A lot of people would disagree.”

  “I bet.”

  “Give it a rest,” Erin said. “You two sound like an old married couple.”

  “I call groom,” Keo said.

  Erin ignored him and climbed off her raised chair and walked the short distance to the center, where the two men who had picked them up stood at the helm. The rushing wind prevented Keo from hearing what they were saying, not that he needed to know to get the gist of it. They were going to dock underneath the oil rig.

  “City on the sea,” Erin said as she walked back to him. “That’s what they call these things. They’ll be here long after we’re gone. Of course, by then the birds will have taken over. At least that way they won’t be a total blight on nature.”

  Keo glanced up at a flock of birds flashing by overhead, making a straight line for the metal structure in the near distance.

  “How many of these do you guys have out here?” he asked Erin.

  “Need-to-know,” Erin said.

  “That’s why I asked. I need to know.”

  She smirked and grabbed her things off the floor and slung her pack while Troy did the same on Keo’s other side. Neither one looked nearly as impressed as he had been with the rig’s continually growing size, which told him they had been here before. Likewise for the four in front of him as they guided the boat under the Ocean Star and prepared to dock.

  “Am I going up there, too?” Keo asked.

  “Unless you’d rather wait for us down here,” Erin said.

  “The weather’s nice, and maybe I can borrow a fishing pole, get us some chow while you guys go do your thing up there.”

  “Kind of you, but I’m going to have to insist you come up with us. Don’t worry; they have a brig where we’ll stow you while we go about our business.”

  “Okay, but when we run out of food, remember I offered.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Erin said.

  * * *

  THEY HAD to free his legs so he could move on his own power up the stairs, his footsteps, along with Erin in front of him and Troy behind him, clanging with every step. A variety of birds perched along the railings of the structure watched them pass by, seemingly oblivious to human presence. For every one that was awake, he saw two or three that were asleep.

  “Who’s up for bird soup tonight?” Keo asked.

  “Do you ever shut up?” Erin, walking a few steps in front of him, asked.

  “Can’t help it. I tend to talk a lot when I’m being led to an interrogation and possibly death.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “No?”

  “You could always join us.”

  “I would if you told me who or what you people are.”

  “Because you don’t already know,” she said, and though he couldn’t see her face, he imagined her smirking when she said it.

  “I get the feeling you don’t believe me, Erin.”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Man’s intuition.”

  “I’ve never heard of that one before.”

  “It’s like woman’s intuition, except manlier.”

  “Ah,” she said, and turned a corner and kept ascending.

  “What are the chances I’m going to survive The Ranch?” Keo asked, following her around the bend in the stairs.

  He was surprised Troy hadn’t intruded on his back-and-forth with Erin yet. As far as he could tell, the man was still back there, close
enough that Keo considered spinning around and going for his gun. Worst-case scenario, they’d both go over the railing and into the water, which would undoubtedly spell death for him with his hands still tied. Then again, what did he have to lose?

  “That depends on what you say,” Erin was saying in front of him.

  “I don’t know anything,” Keo said.

  “I didn’t say you did. I said it’s going to depend on what you say when you’re presented with the questions.”

  “Well, at least the truth is on my side.”

  “Right,” Erin said. “You just keep clinging to that, Keo.”

  A man appeared above them—forties, broad-shouldered, with grays in his hair. He wore the same black uniform and tactical vest as the two that had helped them dock below the rig. Keo looked for a name tag but didn’t see one on the newcomer, either.

  “Welcome back,” the man said, extending a hand to Erin.

  She shook it. “Thanks, Hart. Where’s Riley?”

  “He came down with a cold,” the man named Hart said. “Stuck in bed, so I’m running the show until he gets back up on his feet.”

  “He okay?”

  “It’s a cold. He’ll get over it.”

  “You guys have a doctor onboard, right?”

  “George. He’s a vet.”

  “Same difference,” Troy said, piping up for the first time.

  Hart gave a slightly weird smile. “Yeah. George’s come in real handy lately.”

  The older man stepped aside to let them up onto the highest deck of the oil rig. The wind picked up noticeably, and the first thing Keo observed as soon as he climbed up was just how bright it was up here, with nothing but open skies above him.

  He expected to see people around, but there were only a couple of men with slung rifles standing guard along the edge of the platform to his left. One of them was leaning against a chipped railing and the other one was absently chewing something. They wore the same attire as Hart, which weren’t uniforms exactly, but close enough. Both guards looked oblivious to their arrival.

  Machinery outnumbered people on the top deck, with the derrick sticking out from the center in front of them and the even taller crane lording over everything. Keo stared at the towering structure for a moment, trying to spy the lookouts he knew had to be up there. After all, you didn’t take over a place like this and not make use of its best assets.

  “You returning to The Ranch?” Hart was asking Erin as he led them across the platform.

  “For now,” Erin said. “All the teams will be returning one by one, so you’re going to be pretty busy for a while. Richards and José are downstairs refueling; when they’re done, they’ll be heading back to shore to pick up more people. That means I’m going to need one of your boats to continue on.”

  “Sure, no problem. How are you for supplies?”

  “We’ll fill up what we need, but it shouldn’t be too much. What about you?”

  “The pantry’s fully stocked, so no worries. How’s the war going out there?”

  “It’s…going.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Hart asked.

  “I guess it depends on your perspective,” Erin said.

  Hart glanced back at her, apparently not quite sure how to take her response. Keo shared his confusion.

  “I guess it depends on your perspective”? Keo thought.

  “Casualties?” Hart asked.

  “Maybe more than we’d like,” Erin said, and looked over her shoulder at Keo. “You wanna add something?”

  “I’m just a tourist,” Keo said. “I don’t know anything.”

  “Who is he, anyway?” Hart asked. “Why is he tied up?”

  Erin turned back to Hart. “The better question is, where is everyone?”

  “Huh?” Hart said.

  “The last time I was here, there were kids running around. Where are all the civilian workers, Hart? Don’t tell me they all caught a cold, too.”

  She stopped suddenly, and Keo had to do the same or he would have bumped into her. Erin’s right hand drifted uncomfortably close to her holstered sidearm while behind Keo, he heard Troy shuffling his feet and the sound of a safety being clicked off.

  Uh oh.

  Hart, realizing that the party had stopped, did too, and turned around.

  “Well?” Erin said. “Where are all the civilians, Hart?”

  The older man looked past Erin and at Keo. No, not at him, but at Troy standing over Keo’s left shoulder. Unlike Erin, whose rifle was slung over her back, Keo knew for a fact that Troy had his cradled in front of him the entire time they’d walked up the stairs.

  “They’re inside,” Hart said, shifting his eyes back to Erin. “There’s no work to be done out here right now.”

  “You sound a little nervous, Hart,” Erin said. “Why are you so nervous?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Bullshit,” Troy said behind Keo. “You’re definitely nervous.”

  Hart shook his head and attempted a smile, but it came out so badly that Keo thought, And things were going so well, too.

  “You’re being paranoid,” Hart said. “Relax. There’s nothing going on. Just calm down.”

  Hart was still talking when Keo glimpsed black-clad figures moving in the corner of his left eye. It was the same two guards that had greeted them when they first stepped onto the platform. Keo hadn’t noticed before, but the men had been shadowing them this entire time while keeping their distance. They were now moving toward them, and one of them had begun to unsling his rifle.

  Oh man, here we go!

  Before Keo could do or say anything, things went from bad to absolutely fucked when two shots exploded behind him (Goddammit, Troy, you fucker) and the guard reaching for his rifle stumbled and fell as his partner scrambled to get his own rifle free. The guy was simultaneously too slow and in too much of a hurry, and it was like watching a bad comedy routine as he fumbled with the deadly weapon.

  Keo waited for Troy to finish the poor sap off when something slammed into him from the front and knocked him backward. He grunted when his back crashed into the hard steel floor and pain stabbed through him, but it was nothing compared to the heavy weight of another person landing, then moving frantically on top of him.

  Who the hell? he thought when a third shot rang out and a body collapsed in a pile next to him.

  It was Troy, his rifle somehow still clutched in his hands. Blood gushed out of a hole in his chest where the bullet had exited after it had punched through the back of his throat. The chances were pretty good poor Troy was dead before he even hit the deck.

  Keo didn’t have a lot of time to think about Troy’s last seconds of life because the weight on top of him suddenly lifted and he could breathe (and move) again. It was Erin (?), and she had rolled off him and scrambled to her knees as two more men in tactical vests appeared out from behind the machines and surrounded her, their rifles pointing at her head.

  “Don’t shoot!” someone shouted.

  It was Hart, who for some reason was on the floor too, and was slowly picking himself up. What was Hart doing off his feet in the first place?

  It took about two seconds for Keo to gather the evidence and play the scenario out in his head: The body that had knocked him down was Erin’s, and someone had to have done the same to her. That someone was Hart, who had barreled into Erin and drove her into him.

  “Don’t fucking shoot!” Hart shouted. He lifted one open palm toward the sky—no, not the sky, but at the towering crane.

  I knew there was a sniper up there.

  But sniper or not, it didn’t stop Erin from wrapping her fingers around her holstered sidearm. Keo thought about rolling away and getting out of the line of fire, but that might just end up drawing attention to himself. And right now, he didn’t want to make any sudden moves, especially since the two newcomers and the third remaining guard had their rifles pointed at Erin, and all three looked a little nervous.

  Oh, who was he kidding? They lo
oked a lot nervous.

  Keo sat very still on one knee and barely breathed. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life—unarmed and with his hands bound in front of him, and Troy’s blood, bright under the sun, oozing along the ridges in the floor around him.

  What to do, what to do?

  “Erin, don’t,” Hart was saying. He was clearly trying his very best to stay calm but was only partially (if Keo was being generous) successful. “Take your hand away from your gun, Erin. Don’t draw that sidearm!”

  It was bad enough Keo was helpless and trapped in the midst of a situation that was borderline FUBAR. He also didn’t have a clue what was happening, and that might have been the more aggravating part.

  Wasn’t the Ocean Star a part of Mercer’s group? Didn’t Erin say they were coming here to refuel and resupply before continuing on to The Ranch, wherever the hell that place turned out to be? Both she and Troy hadn’t looked nervous at all as they approached the rig, clear signs that they didn’t see this coming, either.

  Man, I’m so confused right now.

  “Erin!” Hart said—he was almost shouting now for some reason. “Don’t do it! Riley wouldn’t want you to do this!”

  “Riley?” Erin said, and though Keo couldn’t see her face because he was behind her, he could hear the confusion in her voice. “Is he dead?”

  “No,” Hart said. “But he’s been shot.”

  “Shot? By who?”

  “It’s a long story,” Hart began to say, when Keo thought, Fuck me, because he could see Erin’s fingers tightening around the gun and saw the slight hitch in her elbow as she began to draw the weapon.

  He slammed into her from behind, catching her almost in the small of her back with his shoulder, and knocked her off her knees and threw her back onto the deck. Her hands had abandoned the gun in order to stop her fall and Keo spilled on top of her, hearing her scream as his weight drove her chest-first into the steel floor.

  He felt like laughing—wasn’t this what had just happened to him?

  One good turn deserves another, pal!

  He rolled off Erin’s back and scrambled to his knees but didn’t get any farther because the muzzle of a rifle was pointing right in his face from just a foot away. Worse than that, the eye looking at him from behind the iron sight of the weapon was blinking so rapidly Keo was afraid it might explode at any second.