The Purge of Babylon (Book 4): The Fires of Atlantis

by Sam Sisavath

  The three of them sat in the boat, adrift in the darkness with the island in the background. The string of lamps along the three piers looked like glowing fingers, and he could make out a silhouetted form moving on top of a shack on one side of the long stretch of beach. He couldn’t tell if the man (or woman) was armed from this distance, but that was probably a safe bet. The Song Island he was looking at now was worth killing for.

  So where did that leave Allie’s people?

  You owe me big for this, Zachary.

  With the trolling motor turned off, the boat moved slightly back and forth on its own accord over the calm lake water. He was certain the guard would eventually spot the white paint on the boat, but so far, so good.

  The lone guard didn’t concern him too much. It was the tall structure at the back of the island, with the floodlights over its windows. Some kind of lighthouse with an antenna sticking out of it. You could probably see the entire island from up there.

  Now that’s one hell of an overwatch.

  He expected to hear an argument between the girls, but there wasn’t one. In fact, neither woman said a word. He gave them their privacy anyway and didn’t hurry them along with a decision. It wasn’t as if he was going to run out of night anytime soon. Out here, far from land, he felt a certain freedom knowing the creatures couldn’t—wouldn’t—reach him. No wonder Allie and her people refused to budge from their little island—

  “Okay,” Carrie said behind him. “We’ll wait here until you come back.”

  He looked over. “Are you sure?”

  “No, but we’ll do it anyway because we owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.” He looked at Lorelei. “You don’t.”

  “Yes, we do,” Lorelei said, with what sounded like absolute certainty. “We’d be back at L11 right now if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Besides,” Carrie said, “you’re just sneaking onto the island and finding out what you can and swimming back before daylight, right? If it’s not safe, we’ll go back to shore. If it is, we’ll show ourselves like we just arrived.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Carrie nodded. He wasn’t sure if that was for his benefit, or hers and Lorelei’s. “Okay. We’ll wait out here in the dark for you. What could possibly go wrong?” She had said that last part while gritting her teeth.

  Famous last words.

  “Use the trolling motor if you have to,” Keo said. “It got us this close without being spotted, and it should be fine to turn on again if we need it.” He paused, then, “Remember, if things go bad—and if you hear shooting, that means things have gone bad—wait an hour, and if I’m not back by then, or you see boats leaving the island and coming your way, take off.”

  “Take off,” Carrie repeated. “Right.”

  They both looked scared. Lorelei had all but shrunk into the back of the boat, once again trying to hide behind her curtain of blonde hair.

  “Just stick to the plan,” Keo said. “As long as you keep your distance, they shouldn’t spot the boat, and I’ll be back before sunrise. We’ll be fine. No muss, no fuss.”

  *

  HE LEFT HIS pack in the boat, strapping just the MP5SD tightly around his body before dropping off the side and into the water. It was cold at first, but his body adapted after a few minutes. He measured the distance to the beach. Not too far. Four hundred meters, give or take. He could do that in his sleep. Thank God for all those summers on Mission Beach back in San Diego.

  Keo did calm breaststrokes for the first one hundred meters. He wasn’t in any hurry. The night wasn’t going anywhere, and he had plenty of time to search the island and do a little exploring. Push came to shove, there was a lot of water he could jump into from just about any part of the island and plenty of woods he could get lost in. He had a lot of experience outrunning pursuers in wooded areas these days.

  At the 150 meter mark, he slipped under and didn’t come up for another fifty.

  As soon as he poked his head back through the surface, he heard the roar of an outboard motor and saw the boat leaving one of the piers, bright spotlight flashing across the lake in the direction of—

  Carrie and Lorelei.

  On cue, he heard the boat they had commandeered this afternoon fire up its trolling motor behind him. The slow, gradual whine was almost instantly lost in the blare of the loud outboard motor pushing a bass fishing boat across the lake. Waves surged against him, jostling Keo around as the faster vessel shot across the water.

  Dammit.

  He treaded in place and looked after the boat as it streaked toward Carrie and Lorelei. Fast. Too fast. He couldn’t have stopped it even if he was close enough to use the submachine gun. Which he wasn’t. Instead, he helplessly watched it catch up to the white boat.

  He waited to hear gunfire, hoping that he wouldn’t. Carrie still had her Glock, but if she was smart, she would get rid of it before the boat caught up to them. There was no way they were going to fight off a boat that was probably better armed, and he hoped she figured out that before it was too late.

  Throw the gun away, Carrie. Throw the gun away…

  Thirty seconds later, the boats were now drifting in the lake close to one another, and there still wasn’t any gunfire. That was a good sign. Carrie and Lorelei had surrendered and no one had shot anyone. They were still alive. Which meant he could still save them…later, on the island.

  Keo turned and went back under the surface and continued toward the beach.

  When he came back up again, he was just fifty meters from the impossibly white sands, and the craft with the loud motor was on its way back, towing Carrie and Lorelei’s boat behind it. He could just make out four figures in the first boat now. Two were seated and two were standing. He squinted, but he couldn’t tell if the two standing were wearing uniforms.

  Maybe, maybe not…

  He ducked back under and pushed on toward the island, fighting against the jostling waves from the boat’s wake a second time.

  He was ten meters from the beach when his boots touched something mushy but just solid enough and he began walking up at an angle. He went into a crouch, half-submerged in the water. A quick check to the side found the island boat sidling up to one of the piers, where a man and a woman had appeared and were waiting for them.

  Carrie and Lorelei were standing up on the boat now, so they were okay. At this point, both women alive was more than he could have hoped for, especially given the precarious nature of the night.

  Of course, their capture changed everything. Without the boat waiting for him out there, he had no place to retreat to—

  Crack! A bullet splashed into the lake behind him.

  He bolted up from his kneeling position and took off up the beach. Not an easy feat. He was drenched from head to toe and he was carrying extra pounds thanks to the water absorbed by his clothes. Parts of Beaufont Lake were in the pockets of his cargo pants and T-shirt, and a whole lot of it was in his boots. He picked up speed (or thought he did, anyway) with every ounce of water that literally poured out of him. He would probably look like a bloated corpse on the beach if he were to die now.

  Swim fast, leave a bloated corpse. Wasn’t that the old saying?

  Close enough.

  *

  IT WAS GOING to take a while before he dried up completely. Maybe half a day, since it was still night and he didn’t have the sun to make it go faster. He was shivering, because being out of the water and moving in wet clothes was a lot colder than when he was submerged in the lake.

  The MP5SD in hand, Keo picked his way through the woods, skipping round underbrush and trees, making as little noise and leaving as few tracks as possible. The moon provided little light for him to navigate with, but he took comfort in the knowledge that if he couldn’t see where he was going, then likely his pursuers wouldn’t be able to, either.

  Right. Keep telling yourself that, pal.

  He was far enough from the lampposts to avoid their halos, and the only creatur
es that noticed his passing were birds in the trees and random land creatures that were annoyed by his presence, who scampered off. A few squirrels sat and watched him curiously. He grinned back at them. The furry little buggers had become his new lucky charms these days.

  I should catch one of them, skin it, and hang its fur around my neck for good luck.

  He could certainly use a little luck now. Hell, why settle for a little? He could use a lot more than that. It was going to be tricky if he had to fight an entire island full of soldiers, though he was starting to think that wasn’t the case. They just didn’t act like the men in uniform he had encountered the last two days. Something about them was…different. The vibe was all off.

  Groovy, man. We living and dying by vibes now?

  Keo took a moment to take inventory of his supplies. Besides the Ka-Bar, the submachine gun was it. Heckler & Koch made excellent weapons, and even wet, the MP5SD would still work like a charm. He fired off a couple of rounds just to be sure, putting two bullets into the ground, the suppressor keeping both shots at minimum decibels.

  Satisfied he still had a working weapon, Keo moved on.

  He was sure they would chase him into the woods or attempt to locate him from the surrounding fields (with the beach behind him) almost immediately. He was wrong. They were either taking their time, or they were too smart to follow him into the darkness. He would have preferred to keep doing this under the cover of night, but daylight had its advantages too, including drying him out, which would help with the shivering.

  He thought he was prepared for what he would find as he reached the end of the woods, but the sight of the hotel startled Keo and left him breathless for a moment.

  Daebak. I’ve died and gone to heaven.

  The building was huge, with floodlights spaced out along the walls. And it wasn’t even finished yet. He knew that because there were scaffolding and construction equipment visible on the flat rooftop. The lights coming from the rooms, particularly the front patio and lobby, told him that the quiet hum he had been hearing since stepping foot on the island was the product of a power station probably somewhere on the other side of the island where the hotel guests wouldn’t notice. That was where all the solar collector trays were sending their juices.

  A solar-powered island. God bless the peaceniks.

  And there was the lighthouse, about half a football field from the back of the hotel, with a sprawling lawn between the two structures. Or it looked like a lighthouse. Three floors, with a cone-shaped top. Four windows each on the top two floors, light pouring out from the openings. A figure moved back and forth between the windows on the third floor with binoculars. Possibly a woman from the curves.

  Keo would have liked to move around the island while sticking to the woods, but once he reached the eastern cliff, he was stuck. The woods only went so far, leaving him with open ground filled with two large empty swimming pools and bird-poop-covered fish ornaments between him and the hotel. From here, his only choice was to retreat back to the beach.

  It wasn’t an optimal fighting position. Not by a long shot.

  A voice, booming across the wide-open space in front of him, snapped his attention back to the hotel. “Keo!”

  A woman. Probably the same one from the beach. The fact that she knew his name was expected. Carrie and Lorelei would have given up information on him by now. He hadn’t expected them to hold out under interrogation, much less torture, if indeed that was what had happened to them in the last two hours.

  “Keo!” the woman shouted again. “We talked to Carrie and Lorelei!”

  No kidding, lady.

  “We’re not soldiers! Or collaborators!”

  Keo tracked the voice to the patio, maybe 200 meters from his current position. He fished out his lightweight binoculars from one of his cargo pants pockets and looked through them.

  A blonde. About five-five. A taller woman and the large man stood behind her. All three were clearly illuminated by the harsh glare of lights above them, which also allowed him to see their clothes—civilian pants and shirts, but no uniform. Of course, it could just be one big trap to lure him out. After what he had done to them, first at the marina and then later at the shoreline, he wouldn’t be surprised if one of the fake soldiers finally grew a brain.

  “I know you can hear me, Keo!” the woman shouted.

  She seemed to be looking in his direction, so he guessed she figured out that he didn’t have a whole lot of real estate to hide in after escaping the beach. It made sense. This was their island. They would know every inch of it by now. So why hadn’t they attacked him yet? Either they were risk-averse, or they didn’t want to make this encounter bloody. Of course, he could just be overthinking the whole thing, too.

  “This is your chance to keep this from getting out of hand!” she shouted. “Step outside with your hands up!” She paused, probably for effect. “You make us chase you in there, and it’s not going to end well, and neither one of us wants that!”

  Speak for yourself. I happen to have a lot of recent experience eluding people with assault rifles in the woods.

  Keo turned and hurried back toward the beach. He skirted over familiar terrain that he had memorized before arriving at his destination.

  He went into a crouch and listened for signs of armed men trying to outflank him.

  Behind him, the woman was still shouting, her voice fading a bit with the distance. But the night was so silent he would have to be deaf not to hear her. “Look, we get it! You had no choice! You couldn’t be sure who we were! I understand that! I would have done the same thing in your shoes!”

  Satisfied no one was moving in on him from the beach, Keo got up and jogged through the darkness and back to the other side of the woods. The woman and her companions hadn’t moved from the patio.

  He looked to the lighthouse and saw two figures inside now, moving from window to window with binoculars. Searching for him, no doubt. He wondered if they had special binoculars. Night-vision, maybe. That made him take a couple of extra steps backward until he was behind a thick underbrush just in case.

  “Keo!” the woman shouted. “Let’s talk this out!”

  When he didn’t respond, the woman turned to the others and said something. When she was done, she went back into the hotel with the tall woman, and a few seconds later a second man came out and took up position outside the patio alongside the big guy.

  Keo waited again for the attack he knew was coming.

  And waited, and waited…but nothing happened.

  He sat down on the ground in his still-wet clothes instead.

  Who were these people? If they weren’t soldiers, then who were they? Maybe they were even Allie’s survivors. But that didn’t make sense, either. That lighthouse made a hell of a good broadcasting station, especially with the antenna at the top. Wouldn’t they have contacted Allie with it by now? Or broadcasted a “safe and sound” message? They had to know Zachary and the others were waiting to hear back from them. The only reason they hadn’t done that yet in the months since they arrived was because they were (dead) in trouble. So was that it—

  “Keo!”

  It was Carrie’s voice, coming from the hotel patio.

  “Keo!” Carrie shouted again. “It’s okay! They haven’t hurt us, and they’re not going to hurt you!”

  He moved back toward the tree line and looked out with the binoculars again. Carrie was on the patio with the boss lady and the two men. The sight of her, standing among the islanders, caught him by surprise. He certainly hadn’t expected this little development.

  “Keo!” Carrie shouted. “They’re not going to hurt you! I’ve been talking to them! That’s all we’ve been doing. Just talking! They know what happened to those seven people you came here looking for! Keo, can you hear me?”

  Carrie waited for him to answer, and when he didn’t, she turned back to the woman. They exchanged some brief words, the back and forth almost casual. Then the women went into the hotel, once agai
n leaving the two men outside.

  What the hell was that about?

  Keo remained where he was, watching them and listening for sounds around him. Any noise at all other than the birds in the trees, the scurrying along branches from his furry buddies. Hints that the attack he knew was coming would finally arrive. They certainly knew where he was—or at least, the general vicinity—so what was keeping them?

  He got up and moved back toward the eastern part of the woods. There, he leaned out between two trees and peered at the rocky formations below. There was nothing down there except large rocks. No handholds, either, so climbing without equipment was definitely out of the question.

  There was only one path out of the woods that he could see. That was straight across the open grounds, past those two empty swimming pools, the unfinished gazebo, and hope and pray he didn’t get too close to one of the hundreds or so lampposts that snaked around the place like someone’s gaudy idea of showing off to the neighbors during the holidays.

  Hey. No one told you you had to come here. Remember?

  Yeah, yeah…

  *

  THERE WAS A new figure on the boat shack; he could tell the difference by the height and the man’s outline. There was also someone new in the lighthouse—just one, this time, going from window to window and peering through binoculars and occasionally talking into a radio. The big man was alone at the hotel patio again.

  Presenting one lone guard at each position was tempting. Was that the point? Were they trying to lure him out into the open? To make the first move? Was there really just one person at the beach? Or more inside the shack? Another one hiding in the lighthouse? Or waiting behind the front doors into the hotel lobby?

  These people clearly weren’t stupid, so anything was possible.

  Of course, it could just be his paranoia talking. Or maybe, just maybe, he was giving them too much credit again.

  There wasn’t really much of a choice when he got right down to it. Run or fight. Or surrender. That last option wasn’t really an option. Keo had never been good at surrendering. It wasn’t in his DNA. At least he shared that much with his father. Of course, if he had been a better planner, a better tactician, he wouldn’t have found himself in these situations so often. Norris could have told him that. The old-timer was always criticizing his (lack of) ability to strategize.