by Sam Sisavath
“I didn’t mean—I just thought—”
“That I’d be older. I got it. Close the door,” she said to Milly.
The girl stepped over the plastic tray and the spilled food and closed the door. Gaby grabbed Mac and hauled him off the footboard, dropping him to the floor on his back. Dull, pained eyes stared up at her, but if she was afraid Mac would fight, she didn’t have to be. It was entirely possible he wasn’t even seeing her at the moment. He was alive, if barely, because she could still hear him breathing.
“What are you doing?” the man asked behind her.
She didn’t bother to answer him. Instead, she unclasped Mac’s gun belt and pulled it off, along with the holster and ammo pouches. She cinched it around her waist and instantly felt better with the weight. These last few days, walking around without weapons was like being naked in front of the world. The Smith & Wesson slid easily into the hip holster, and though it didn’t have silver bullets in the magazine, it was better than no ammo.
“How many of you are there?” she asked, busying herself with Mac’s boots. He was a few inches taller than her and she expected his boots to be a little larger as a result, but she was surprised when they fit her as well as they did.
“Just us,” the man said. “What are you doing now?”
“Stop asking stupid questions,” she snapped. “You know what I’m doing.”
Gaby pulled off Mac’s camouflage jacket and slipped it on. It was slightly big around the shoulders, but luckily Mac wasn’t fat. She took off his watch and put it on her wrist.
“Maybe I should take the rifle,” the man said.
“You know how to use one of these?” she asked.
“How hard could it be?”
“Right. I’ll keep the rifle.”
She got up and walked over to the door and opened it just a crack. She looked out at the empty second-floor hallway with Milly standing next to her, eyeing her curiously.
“Where is everyone?” she asked the girl.
“At work,” Milly said.
“Work?”
“Everyone has assigned work details,” the man said. “I work in the kitchen downstairs, and Milly is the server girl.”
“Hostess,” Milly said.
The man smiled. “Sorry. Hostess.”
She glanced back at the two of them. There wasn’t much of a resemblance, so she crossed out father and daughter. Not brother and sister, either.
“I’m Peter,” the man said, holding out his hand.
She shook it. “Gaby.”
“Milly told me. How are we getting out of here, Gaby?”
She stared at him for a moment. “You don’t know?”
He shook his head. “We were hoping you might have a plan.”
“Are you serious? You’re the ones who are supposed to be rescuing me, not the other way around.”
Milly and Peter exchanged a look.
“Never mind,” Gaby said. “Tell me about the town. How many collaborators are here?”
“Collaborators?” Peter said.
“The guys in the uniforms with guns.”
“Oh.” He thought about it. “Seven. Four left yesterday, but four more came with the new group of arrivals.”
“Is that too many?” Milly asked eagerly, still watching her face closely.
Gaby shook her head. “No. Seven is doable.”
I hope…
*
THEY WERE KEEPING her in a bed-and-breakfast just as she had guessed. That accounted for all the rooms on the second floor. According to Peter, except for her, everyone came and went as they pleased, though the building was reserved for singles.
Milly and Peter had their own rooms, and they disappeared inside them while Gaby stood watch at the top of the stairs. The first floor below her was empty, with everyone having already left for their “jobs.” Peter was still around because he worked in the kitchen while Milly assisted him.
“It sort of worked out perfectly for us,” Peter had said. “Besides Mac, there won’t be anyone here to stop us from leaving.”
“What about outside?” she had asked. “Where are all the other guards?”
“Walking around most of the time. You probably already know this, but this isn’t exactly a prison. They’re not going to stop anyone from leaving. Well, except you.”
Gaby had seen the way Peter looked at her more than once. He had questions, but he had (smartly) decided to keep them to himself for now. He didn’t really have the look of a chef, but then most of the people around L15 were probably doing things they didn’t think they would be doing before The Purge. She certainly had no idea she would be sneaking around a bed-and-breakfast with an AK-47.
Milly and Peter came back a few minutes later, both carrying large backpacks. Too large.
“What’s in there?” Gaby asked.
“Clothes,” Milly said. “And other stuff.”
“What kind of other stuff?”
“Deodorant, tooth paste, toothbrush…”
“Get rid of the clothes.”
“Why?”
“Take only what you need.”
“But I need my clothes,” Milly said.
“Get rid of the clothes,” Gaby said again.
Milly sighed and went back into her room.
Peter looked after the girl, then over at Gaby. “I, uh, just have socks and underwear. And some personal stuff.”
She nodded. “That’s fine.”
“How old are you, anyway?” he asked. She guessed that was one of the questions that had been swirling around in his head since they met.
“Old enough,” she said.
“I thought you’d be older.”
“You said that already.” Gaby glanced over as Milly came back out of her room with a noticeably lighter backpack. “Is there a back door?” she asked Peter.
He nodded and moved to take the lead, but she put a hand on his arm.
“I’ll go first,” she said, stepping ahead of him. “Just tell me where to go.”
“Down the stairs, turn right into the back hallway,” Peter said.
She moved down the stairs, the rifle in front of her. She didn’t particularly like the AK-47, but she knew how to use it. Although she was more familiar with the M4, there were other rifles on the island she had trained on over the months. Will always told her it was fine to have a favorite, but not at the risk of being ignorant of the rest.
As Peter promised, there was no one on the first floor. The emptiness made her nervous, with the main entrance looming in front of her. She glimpsed two figures standing across the street, both wearing camo uniforms similar to the ones Mac and Lance wore and the jacket she had on now. The uniforms made it easier to pick them out from the civilians. The last thing she wanted was to shoot someone who was just trying to survive the end of the world. The ones with guns, on the other hand…well, she could live with putting them down.
She turned right and led Milly and Peter into the back hallway. They followed (too) closely behind and made too much noise. There was a door at the end, sunlight filtering in through a security window. She reached it and looked out, past the sidewalk and at the buildings across the street. Large trees encircled the town in the near distance. Figures—men and women, and some children—moved along the sidewalks.
She looked back at Peter, then Milly. They were watching her anxiously.
“We’re going to walk out of here like we belong,” she said. “Act normally. Walk normally. You belong here. Don’t draw attention to yourselves, but don’t look away from anyone, either. Got it?”
They nodded back.
“If anyone calls your name, respond,” Gaby continued. “You’re doing what you’re supposed to do—going about your business.”
“Okay,” Peter said.
“Got it,” Milly nodded.
“I don’t see any vehicles except the ones the guards drive,” she said to Peter.
“There aren’t that many still left in town,” Peter said. “There are a couple
of trucks and some ATVs parked near the administrative building.”
“Can we get to them?”
“I don’t see how. Besides you, those are the only places they actually guard.”
She could see it in Peter’s eyes again. It was the question that had been going through his mind: “What’s so special about you?”
But he didn’t voice it, and she was glad. Gaby didn’t feel like explaining her relationship with Josh. It was complicated. “See, there’s this guy, and he’s in love with me, but he has a really screwed up way of showing it.”
It sounded messed up even in her head.
“What about the horses?” Gaby asked. “I’ve seen them around.”
“There’s a stable on the south side, but there are people watching it. They’re not armed, but I don’t think they’re just going to give the animals to us.”
“They won’t have a choice.”
“Can you really just shoot them?”
She stared at him, wondering if the shock on his face was real. “Yes,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I don’t want to do that,” Peter said, and shook his head. “Can’t we find another way?”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“I want to leave this town, but not if I have to kill to do it.”
“You bashed Mac’s head in pretty good upstairs.”
He flinched. “That was different. He’s one of the guards, and it was necessary. These other people…they’re not dangerous.”
She could see the conflict on his face, and he reminded her very much of Nate.
Where are you, Nate? Are you dead? Are you out there somewhere? Are you one of those things now, lurking in the darkness?
“All right,” she said. “Then we’ll have to go on foot.” She looked back down the hallway. “The highway is back there.”
“The interstate,” Peter nodded.
“Then what’s on this side?”
“The farms, woods, and Hillman’s Lake, where they get the water.”
“And beyond that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never gone past the lake. I don’t think anyone has except the guards.”
Gaby took a breath. Milly smiled back at her, looking strangely confident in what they were about to do. Gaby couldn’t fathom what was going through the kid’s head at the moment. The last thing she was feeling was confidence. She wanted to escape, but she always thought she’d only have herself to take care of. Dragging a thirty-something guy and his, well, whatever it was Milly was to him, was never part of the plan.
Finally, she nodded. “All right. Remember: You belong here. Act normal.”
“Normal,” Peter said. “Right.”
She turned back around, opened the door, and stepped outside into the bright sun, gripping the AK-47 tightly in front of her, forefinger sliding comfortably close to the trigger.
*
SEEING AND FEELING the warmth of the sun from her apartment window (prison cell) was one thing; actually being outside walking under it was another. She had forgotten how freeing and comforting the daylight was. Even with all the potential dangers around her, Gaby couldn’t help but take a moment to soak in the clean air.
The first sound that reached her after stepping out onto the sidewalk was loud hammering from across the street. A dozen men were carefully lowering a large rectangular sign—a gaudy monstrosity featuring a woman lying on her side, barely clothed—to waiting hands below them. There was a second, plainer sign leaning against the building with writing that read: “Housing #14.”
Other buildings around her were being similarly repurposed, their old signs either already redone or in the process of being replaced. They seemed to be working from right to left, probably depending on what they needed. With the constant arrival of new five-ton transport trucks on a regular basis, she imagined they had dozens, maybe even hundreds, of new people in need of homes every day.
Salvation comes at a price. Your blood. Your soul. Your future.
I’d rather die first.
“Let’s go,” she said quietly.
They started up the sidewalk, making a beeline for the end of the street. The road curved left out of town, but the tree line in front of her beckoned, promising safety within the woods beyond. Gaby set a calm, almost leisurely pace, smiling and nodding and exchanging looks with everyone they passed. No one wore uniforms, which helped to set her mind somewhat at ease, and she allowed herself to lessen the pressure against the AK-47’s trigger.
She expected to see men on horseback, but there were none. Instead, the streets and sidewalks were filled with civilians. Men, women, and children. And pregnant women. It wasn’t hard to pick them out of the crowd. There were a lot of them.
“How many pregnant women are in town?” she asked Peter.
“A lot,” he said. “Over a hundred. There are more women here than men. I asked around, and it’s the same in all the other towns.”
She could see for herself that he was right. For every man or boy she saw, there were at least two females. Some pregnant, others not. And there was something else she noticed: They were all young and healthy.
Perfect birth-giving age. To squeeze out babies for the monsters.
Gaby’s mood darkened.
I’d rather die first…
“Peter!” a female voice shouted.
Gaby looked over as a woman in her twenties walked briskly across the street toward them. She was slim and attractive, with long black hair that fell all the way to her waist. She wore a white one-piece dress and beamed at the sight of Peter. Gaby searched for the telltale signs of a baby bump, but there wasn’t one.
“Hey, Anna,” Peter said, smiling back at the woman.
“Where you off to?” Anna asked.
“Um, to the lake.”
“What’s going on at the lake?”
Peter glanced at Gaby, and she could see him struggling for an answer. Lying, apparently, didn’t come easily to Peter.
“They wanted me to look at some plants they found,” he said. “To see if they’re edible.”
The woman stopped in front of them, and bright green eyes settled on Gaby. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Gaby said.
“I haven’t seen you around before. Did you just arrive?”
“You know everyone in town?” Gaby asked, injecting just enough annoyance into her voice to let the woman know it wasn’t her job to question her. She was, after all, the one wearing a uniform (or at least, Mac’s boots and jacket) and holding a rifle.
The woman was properly chastised. “I guess not.”
“Right,” Gaby said, and looked away.
Anna smiled at Milly instead. “Hey there, kid.”
“Hey, Anna,” Milly said. The girl smiled, playing along. She was definitely a more convincing liar than Peter. “How’s Bobby?”
“He’s okay. Working at the barn with the horses now.”
“That’s cool.”
Anna looked back at Peter before her eyes shifted over to Gaby again. “So, I’ll let you guys get back to work.”
“Okay,” Peter said. “See you around.”
“Yeah, sure.” She gave Gaby a pursed smile before walking off.
Gaby looked after her.
She knows.
She must have been unconsciously raising the AK-47 when she felt Peter’s hand on the rifle’s barrel. “No,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Please. She’s a good person.”
They’re all good people until they shoot you in the back, she thought, but said instead, “Whatever. Let’s go.”
She started up the sidewalk again. Peter and Milly followed in silence for a moment, their quickening footsteps sounding almost in tune to the hammering across the street.
Gaby risked a quick glance over her shoulder.
Anna, farther back down the street, was watching after them, and her eyes met Gaby’s again.
“Pick up the pace,” Gaby said.
She began moving faster, dodging p
eople in their path. If they were indifferent to her before, they became slightly alarmed as she moved aggressively around and sometimes through them. Gaby measured the difference between them and the woods.
Fifty yards, give or take.
Her pace quickened and she was almost moving at a trot now. “Hurry.”
“What’s happening?” Peter said.
“Just hurry!”
Peter and Milly already looked out of breath and they weren’t any closer to the tree lines. The girl probably hadn’t built up much of a stamina delivering food, and Gaby could already see the strain on her round face. Peter didn’t look any better. She guessed cooking for people in the bed-and-breakfast hadn’t done him any favors, either.
Forty yards…
…thirty-five…
“Hey!” a male voice shouted behind them.
Gaby looked over her shoulder a second time.
Anna was standing next to a uniformed guard, the woman pointing after them. The man was too far back for her to make out any details, but she could easily discern the M4 hanging at his side.
“Stop where you are!” the man shouted.
The hell with that.
She took off, shouting, “Run!”
She knew Peter and Milly were close behind because she could hear them gasping, their sneakers slapping against the pavement. People stumbled out of their way, others hurrying into open doors. Men working on a building across the street stopped what they were doing and stared curiously.
A gunshot pinged! against a metal sign hanging four feet above her head. Gaby ducked reflexively, even though she didn’t really need to.
She picked up even more speed.
Twenty yards…
She glanced back and saw Peter holding onto Milly’s hand, the two of them somehow keeping pace despite the sweat and veins popping out along their temples and foreheads.
God, they’re out of shape.
Gaby didn’t stop. Didn’t waste precious seconds shooting back at the guard. The first gunshot would already be bringing other collaborators. One or two, she might have been able to prevail against in a stand-up fight, but if even half of those seven showed up, she was a goner.
No, not seven. Six. Because Mac was probably still bleeding on the second floor of the bed-and-breakfast right now.
Death by roller pin. Now that’s a hell of a way to go.