Bombtrack (Road To Babylon, Book 2)

by Sam Sisavath

  Including a big enough army to raid towns up and down the coast and taking the women and children back to Fenton.

  Why are you taking the women and children?

  But of course she didn’t ask him the question. He wouldn’t have told her anyway, assuming he even knew the answer, which she didn’t think he did. Besides, introducing the topic would only break the façade she was trying to sell.

  “I’ll settle for a piece of pie,” Gaby said. “Any kind will do. I’m starving.”

  “You still haven’t told me what you’d give me for it,” Bruce said.

  Gaby fought back the bile rising up her throat when she smiled at him and said, “Tell me what you want.”

  Ten

  Bruce didn’t tell her what he wanted, but she didn’t need to be a mind reader to know the answer. He surprised her, though, by leaving right away, closing the stall door and locking it on the other side. Seconds later, she heard another door opening and then closing.

  She waited for him to return, readying herself to shift back into the role of willing captive, but he didn’t. Bruce didn’t come back in the next thirty minutes, or the next hour. He was still MIA when darkness fell over the building and the interior darkened noticeably. The air around her grew chilled, and the animals went quiet as they settled down for the night. Except for the occasional snorts or whinny, she might as well be alone in the entire place. The noises she’d been hearing outside had lessened noticeably with the coming of night. Fenton, like any other place, shut down after dark.

  Alone again with just her thoughts, she found herself wondering why no one had come into the stables to fetch or return any of the horses since she’d woken up. Was there more than one stable and she was in the less active one?

  “Sorry about the accommodations, but we’re running out of space. This will have to do for now,” Buck had said earlier.

  She didn’t know if that explained it, not that it mattered in the larger scheme of things. Right now she needed to escape this place—this town—but to do that, she had to get her hands and legs free. It would also have been nice to get possession of a weapon. A gun. A knife. Anything. Gaby had been hoping Bruce would provide those items. Not willingly, of course, but it wasn’t like she was going to actually ask him.

  So where are you, Bruce? I thought we had a date, you piece of shit.

  Cursing Bruce’s name in her head didn’t bring him back any faster. So she sat alone in her small room for another hour. Or was it two, now? She was beginning to lose track of time, which wasn’t good, but again, there wasn’t something she could do about it.

  It was getting colder, but she was still wearing her clothes from this morning—thermal sweater and long pants—so she wasn’t in any danger of freezing to death. And the building was made from thick wood, which had aided in lessening the loud construction going on outside and would do the same to the night chill.

  Hours later, and there were still no signs of Bruce. By the time she heard the horse in the stall next to her start snoring, Gaby’s eyelids grew heavy and keeping them open became a chore.

  Stay awake. This might be your only shot.

  Stay awake!

  To help keep her mind occupied on something other than how tired she was, how exhausted she was from all the running and fighting of this morning (Stop it! That’s not helping!), Gaby thought about Reese. The girl was out there, somewhere. What had Redman said about her?

  “She’s with her people, the ones from Kohl’s Port.”

  That should have made her feel better—Reese back with people she knew from her seaside town—but it didn’t, mostly because Gaby didn’t know what Fenton was doing with its captives. Maybe they were like her, “hog-tied” in another building somewhere in town. Was that why they’d put her here, because they had filled up those other places?

  But why did they take the women and children in the first place?

  The question nagged at her and had been ever since Reese told her what had happened. The immediate answer brought up all kinds of vile imagery, each one more horrifying than the last. She wanted to think it couldn’t be possible, but she knew better. Gaby had been out there; she had encountered people who did terrible things. Terrible, unspeakable things. It was worse in the cities.

  “The Purge gave us the opportunity to go back to our real selves, to do what we were always meant to do. Kill and fuck,” Buck had said. “Most women wouldn’t understand, but I think you do. You look like someone who’s embraced her inner primitive self. Tell me, Maggie, how many men have you fucked and killed since The Purge?”

  In many ways, man was capable of doing more terrible things to one another than the ghouls ever could, or could ever dream of. At least with the creatures it was about feeding, about staying alive. You could always forgive them for it. But the men who did it because they wanted to, men like Bruce, like Redman… There was no forgiving them.

  Maybe that was why she trained so hard in the years since Houston, because she knew there were men like that still out there, looking for more victims. The training kept her from becoming one of those helpless people.

  Never again. Never, ever again.

  She sat up straighter—or as much as she could—when she heard the slow creaking sound.

  A door opening.

  About damn time.

  She should have been afraid—or at least a little nervous—but she wasn’t. There was just a sense of Finally, let’s get this over with pervading every part of her body and soul. Her mind was calm, as were her arms and legs, and even her heartbeat was normal.

  She counted down to five, in sync to the soft crunch-crunch of footsteps approaching her stall. It sounded almost as if Bruce was tiptoeing, trying to make as little noise as possible.

  Such a courteous guy, that Bruce.

  She looked over at the door as the deadbolt ka-clanked on the other side—a bit too loudly for someone trying to sneak around—and Bruce appeared standing almost entirely in shadows. For a second she wasn’t sure it was even him, but then he stepped forward and into a stream of moonlight.

  She forced a meek smile. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

  “Took a little finesse to get around the guard rotation, but I’m here now,” he said, and grinned at her. She hadn’t noticed before, but he was missing a tooth on the bottom row. It was just another dent in what was an otherwise handsome face. The fact that he was a piece of shit human being was the other strike.

  He closed the door behind him, or as much as he could without the ability to lock it from this side. The door creaked back open slightly anyway. She could see him just fine despite the limited light and could smell him even better. Whatever he had been doing before he showed back up here, it hadn’t included a shower. In fact, he hadn’t even bothered to change clothes.

  “Guard rotation?” she asked.

  “Perry and I clocked out two hours ago. I had to wait until the two new guys went for a late dinner.”

  Which means there’s no one out there right now guarding the building…

  Bruce had been holding one hand behind his back, and he brought it up now with a Tada! flourish. He had an object wrapped in a green cloth in his palm, and he peeled it open to reveal a piece of apple pie inside. The dessert surprised her because she hadn’t smelled it until now and wondered if being locked inside a building full of horse manure and hay had dulled her olfactory senses.

  She smiled wider up at him. “Is that for me?”

  He nodded before wrapping the pie back up. “I already ate. Two helpings. Fenton’s not hurting for pies.”

  “Can I have it?”

  He feigned thinking about it before unwrapping her “reward” again. “You want me to feed you?”

  “Well, you’re kinda going to have to.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Or you could untie me.”

  He grinned. “I can’t do that.”

  She shrugged. “Then I guess you’ll have to feed me. Less work for me
.”

  He chuckled. “You’re taking this well.”

  “It’s not like I can do anything about it.”

  “Going with the flow, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  He grabbed the same stool that Buck and Cherise had used earlier from the corner and sat down on it in front of her. Gaby licked her lips and kept her eyes on the pie. The truth was, she wasn’t hungry and could barely smell the dessert (God, I hope I can still smell something other than horse shit after this.), but it seemed like the reaction he would be expecting, and wanted.

  Right now, it was about giving Bruce everything he wanted.

  “Open up,” he said.

  He broke off a small piece and held it up to her, and she opened her mouth and let him slip it through her lips.

  She swallowed, then licked the crumbs from her lips. “That’s really good. Who made it?”

  “Some girl at the cafeteria.”

  “You guys have a cafeteria?”

  “Don’t you, wherever you come from?”

  She shook her head. “What else do you guys have?”

  “Fenton’s loaded.”

  He broke off another piece, and she ate that, too. The pie itself wasn’t bad, but there was probably a little too much sugar for her liking. But then again, even a little bit of sugar was too much for her these days.

  “It’s got everything you’d need,” Bruce was saying. “I came here three years ago. Wish I had come sooner.”

  “Where from?”

  “Kansas.”

  “Kansas?”

  Bruce nodded. “You?”

  “Dallas.”

  “Cool.” Another piece. “So, what exactly did you do to get locked up in here with the horses?”

  He doesn’t know. Definitely just a stooge.

  Then, I can work with that.

  “They didn’t tell you?” she asked anyway.

  He shook his head. “People talk, but I didn’t really get all the details.”

  “It was just a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

  “What was?”

  “They thought I did something that I didn’t.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah.” She attempted a regretful sigh, and thought it was mostly successful because Bruce hadn’t looked away or snickered in response. “Buck should be confirming my story soon.”

  “Will he? Confirm your story, I mean?”

  “By tomorrow morning, at the latest.” She nodded with all the confidence she could muster. “Everything will be sorted out by then.”

  “Then you won’t be here tomorrow. I mean, in here. Locked up.”

  “I don’t think so. God, I hope not. This’ll probably be our last night together.” She took another offered piece and licked her lips while locking eyes with him the entire time. “Too bad.”

  He smiled. “What’s that mean?”

  “What’s what mean?”

  “You said ‘too bad.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She shrugged but didn’t answer.

  He fed her another piece. He was running out of pie—thank God, because she was feeling too full already.

  Way too much sugar.

  “Come on, what’s that mean?” he asked. There was something on his face, like he was flirting with her. Or attempting to.

  “You’re not exactly bad looking, Bruce,” Gaby said, and thought, Except for the hair. And the grease. And the smell. God, what is that smell?

  He smiled smugly. “Not the first time I’ve been told that.”

  She pretended to blush.

  He grinned before wrapping the crumbs in the cloth and tossing it to the floor.

  “Can I finish that?” Gaby asked.

  “Finish what?”

  “The pie.”

  “It’s just crumbs.”

  “I’m still hungry.”

  He chuckled. “Damn. I guess you really are. Maybe later.”

  “Come on, Bruce,” she said, putting just enough whine into it to make it sound real and sultry. She had some experience with the former but not so much with the latter. Gaby had never had much use for seduction. She’d never had to.

  But it seemed to work just fine on Bruce, who reached behind him and brought back his switchblade, then popped it in front of her.

  Oh shit, Gaby thought, and for a second she wondered if she had messed up, if he had seen right through her charade—

  He leaned forward and down, then sliced the duct tape strapping her legs to the chair. First her right, then her left.

  Or not.

  She sighed with relief, and there was no fakery involved that time. But she asked anyway, hoping she was injecting just the right amount of confusion and suspicion, “What are you doing, Bruce?”

  He glanced up at her from his kneeling position. “What’s it look like?”

  “What if the guards come back?”

  “They just left. Those guys won’t be back for at least an hour. This is a shit job—no offense—so they’ll find ways to stay away for as long as possible. Besides, it’s not like you’re going anywhere, and they know it.”

  “But what if they come back early?”

  He shrugged. “Front doors are still chained up. I came through the side door. It’s locked, too, but fortunately—” he unzipped one of his vest pouches and pulled out a key “—I came prepared.”

  “They don’t know about me? Who I am? What people are saying I did?”

  “Nah. Like I said, it’s a shit job. They think you’re just some yahoo causing trouble. No big deal.”

  Bruce’s words were music to her ears, and Gaby had to fight back the smile. She said instead, “You thought of everything.”

  “You have no idea,” he said, his eyes gleaming as he put the key away. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

  Gaby nodded, and again gave him that relieved look. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble, that’s all.”

  “Ain’t that sweet.” He flashed that stupid grin before sliding behind her and cut her wrists free. “Besides, we only got one night. Might as well take advantage of it, right?” Her arms were still duct taped to the chair when he leaned back around to look at her. “Right?”

  She smiled and nodded. “That was a really good pie.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  He chuckled again before disappearing behind her to cut her arms free. She brought her hands out from behind her back and peeled off the duct tape from her skin, then went to work on massaging her wrists, followed by her ankles. Both of her legs felt like large, heavy logs.

  “Give it a while,” Bruce said. He pushed the switchblade back into its housing by stabbing the wall, then putting it away into his back pocket. Then he took a roll of duct tape out from his jacket pocket. “I brought extra after, you know, we’re done. So when Buck comes in tomorrow and clears you, he can untie you himself. That way, no one’ll know I was even here.”

  “You really have thought of everything,” Gaby said, and winced as she removed the final strip of tape from her left arm and lost a few hairs doing it.

  “Ouch,” Bruce said. “Hurts?”

  “It’s okay.” Gaby stood up and smiled at him. She had done it so many times now that it barely took any effort. “Thanks, Bruce.” She looked down at the rag he’d tossed. “For that, and…” She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth.

  A quick, brief kiss, before pulling back.

  He grinned. “Forget the crumbs. I’ll get you another one later. They got tons of the stuff in the cafeteria.”

  “That would be awesome.”

  “But feel free to thank me now.”

  “I will,” Gaby said, and took a step toward him.

  She hadn’t even finished the one step before he grabbed her around the waist with both hands, and before she could breathe, his mouth was crushing down on hers. It was just as unromantic and bile-inducing as the last time.

  And like the last time, she hesita
ted slightly—just for a few seconds, to make it look good—before leaning into it.

  Bruce was wearing a gun belt with a pistol in it, but it never occurred to her to go for it right away. If she got ahold of the gun and Bruce made her shoot him, she would be in trouble. The gunshot would be much too loud and she would be dead—or recaptured—before she ever made it out of the stables.

  No, the gun wasn’t the way out of this. But she knew what would be as soon as she saw him bring it out.

  He was groaning (grunting?), and his hands were pressed so tightly against the small of her back, pushing her body into his, that she didn’t even have to reach very far before she found the switchblade in his back pocket. The silver metal housing was cold to the touch and oily when she pulled it out with one hand while she caressed his cheek with her other hand before sliding her fingers into his hair to give him every sensation possible so he couldn’t feel the weight of the knife leaving his pocket.

  His tongue had snaked its way into her mouth when she grabbed a handful of his slightly damp hair and jerked his head back. His mouth abandoned hers just before she pushed down on the release latch on the side of the switchblade, and the blade itself flicked free with a sharp metallic click.

  He recognized the sound for what it was almost immediately, and got out, “What,” just a split second before she plunged the knife into the back of his head, driving the blade through the skull and into the brain underneath with everything she had. His eyes, staring at her the entire time, went lifeless before his body turned limp, and he collapsed in front of her to the dirty floor.

  There was surprisingly very little blood, with the switchblade still buried in the back of his head almost up to the hilt. Gaby hadn’t been sure she could exert enough force to break through the skull. And even if she could, there was a question if the blade itself would be able to punch through something as tough as human bone.

  But she had, and it had.

  She stood still and stared down at Bruce’s unmoving figure. She hadn’t viewed him as a real human being before, but that reality was difficult to ignore now with that serene look on his face as he lay there, the knife jutting out of the back of his skull—