Requiem (After The Purge, Book 1)

by Sam Sisavath

  Ana was looking over at him. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” Wash said.

  “Coming back for me.”

  “Did you have any doubts I would?”

  “I wasn’t sure.”

  “You didn’t tell them about me?”

  She shook her head. “They didn’t know about you in the first place, so I kept it that way. Just in case I was right and you did come back for me.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith.”

  “It’s not my lack of faith. It’s experience.”

  “With men?”

  “With human beings in general.”

  “Well, I’m different.”

  “And I’ll remember that from now on. For everything you’ve done. For me, for Emily.”

  “It’s not over yet.”

  “I know, but it’s a good start. It’s a better start than I could have hoped for when the night began.”

  Wash wanted badly to ask her what had happened back there at the cabin. How had she and Emily ended up in the same room as Mathison? Why were they in nightgowns? How had she managed to get her hands on his gun?

  But he didn’t ask those questions, because she was right. This wasn’t the time.

  Snap! from behind them.

  He stopped and turned around, Ana and Emily doing the same next to him. All three of them went deathly still, and he thought Emily even stopped breathing altogether.

  “What?” Ana asked, dropping her voice to barely a whisper.

  He shook his head. It could have been anything. Man or animal.

  “Wash?” Ana whispered.

  He was about to answer when he heard it again—and this time more than once:

  Snap! Snap!

  They were far away, but getting closer.

  Wash turned around. “They’re coming. Let’s go!”

  Twenty-Two

  “Where are we going?” Ana asked after about five minutes of walking, then running, then walking some more through the woods without once stopping to catch her breath.

  Now that’s a good question, Wash thought, because he didn’t know. He’d been asking himself the same thing for a while now.

  “Wash?”

  The problem was that the woods looked a lot different at night than they had during the daytime. There were too many shadows, too many patches of darkness, and too much of a canopy that only sporadic shafts of moonlight were able to pierce and light their way. He had difficulty seeing more than ten or so yards around him at any one time.

  “Wash!”

  He had lights on his shotgun, but Wash had left it off. The bright LED would have certainly given their position away to Mathison’s people. He didn’t think they were losing them by any stretch of the imagination by staying in the dark, but he didn’t feel like giving them more clues to their whereabouts, either. They were coming, but that didn’t mean he should make it easier on them.

  Even if there were plenty of lights to see with, it wouldn’t have mattered. It had been easier when he’d scouted the cabin, because all he had to do was keep the clearing to his left as he moved from one spot to the next. But now he was going deeper into the woods, and there wasn’t anything that even looked familiar. One tree was the same as the other tens of thousands they’d passed, and the persistent knowledge that Mathison’s men, somewhere behind them, were getting closer weighed heavily on his mind.

  “Goddammit, Wash, answer me,” Ana said.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We’re lost?” Emily asked. Her voice was so much softer than Ana’s. Weaker, more vulnerable.

  “Not, not exactly,” Wash said.

  “Not exactly how?” Ana asked.

  “Not exactly,” he repeated.

  Wash glanced back at the mess they’d made as they lumbered their way from the cabin. Snapped branches, broken twigs, and ruined bushes. Any man with two eyes would be able to easily track them even with the little light.

  Well, that’s not good.

  “‘Not exactly’ is not good, Wash,” Ana said from in front of him.

  “Yeah, I know,” Wash said.

  “Where are the horses?”

  “I had to leave them behind.”

  “Leave them behind where?”

  “I have no idea. I didn’t exactly have time to map out the area before I went back to rescue you.”

  “So you’re saying that you don’t know where they are?”

  “That’s what I’m saying. They’re probably long gone by now anyway.”

  “You left them to roam free?”

  “Had to. It would have been cruel to tie them up out in the open at night. And I couldn’t bring them back here with me.”

  “I guess you did the right thing.”

  “Glad you approve.”

  He glanced down at the gun in her hand. It was a 1911 model Remington, similar to the one he’d given her before, but this one was matte black, whereas the other one was silver. The fact that she had a gun was the good news; the bad was that the Remington came with very limited ammo capacity.

  “How many shots did you fire back there?” he asked.

  Ana shook her head. “I don’t remember. I wasn’t exactly counting. Why?”

  “That model has seven plus one. Eight bullets.”

  “Eight? That’s it?”

  “Yeah.”

  He took the gun from her and knew there was a problem as soon as he felt the weight. He ejected the magazine anyway and frowned. She was down to two rounds—one in the pipe and one in the magazine.

  “Hey,” Ana said when Wash threw the gun into a nearby bush. “What the hell, Wash?”

  “Relax. I got you covered.”

  “You better have.”

  “What did I say about having little faith?”

  “You’d get more if you didn’t go around throwing my guns away.”

  “I thought you hated guns.”

  “I do, but not when they can save my life. Like now.”

  “Like I said, relax.” He took the Glock out from behind his waist and handed it to her. “It’s fully loaded, unlike the other one.”

  “How many is loaded?” Ana asked, taking the gun.

  “Fifteen rounds.”

  “How many did the other one have?”

  “Less than fifteen rounds.”

  “Then I guess you did the right thing. Again.”

  “Glad you approve. Again.”

  “Just tell me first next time.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He pulled two magazines for the Glock from the pouch he carried at his side and held them out to her.

  “I, uh, don’t have anywhere to put those,” Ana said. He thought she might have actually blushed a bit when she said it, but it could have just been the limited light causing him to see things. After all, Ana didn’t blush. Right?

  “Yeah, I noticed that,” Wash said. “I guess you’ll tell me how you ended up in that getup later, too?”

  She pursed a smile. “Add it to the list.”

  “Here, I’ll take them,” Emily said.

  The younger sister took the magazines from him. She had said so little since they began fleeing the cabin that the sudden sound of her voice surprised Wash. She might have been taller than Ana, and if he was being honest about it, prettier in a lot of ways, but there was a fire to Ana that overwhelmed her little sister.

  “You sure?” Ana asked her. “I know you don’t like guns.”

  “I don’t have to like them, just hold onto them for you,” Emily said. “Just like when we were kids.”

  Ana smiled at her, and Emily returned it. There was nothing forced about their reactions, and Wash imagined this was what they were like back in Newton before Mathison was even a figment of their nightmares.

  It was a nice moment that was quickly broken by voices coming from behind them. They were still not close yet, but they were gradually getting closer
.

  “Go,” Wash said.

  They started moving again.

  “Wash…” Ana said.

  “Yeah?” Wash said.

  “You figured out where we’re going yet?”

  “Nope.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  “Just keep walking until we can’t walk anymore.”

  “I’ve said it already, and I hate to repeat myself, but Wash, that’s not much of a plan.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Does that mean you will, soon?”

  “Um…”

  “Wash…”

  He shook his head. “I’ll let you know when I think of one. Until then, let’s just keep moving.”

  She nodded, and he could see her biting her tongue. He didn’t blame her. “Just keep moving” wasn’t exactly the best plan in the world when people with guns were chasing you.

  “Are you okay?” she asked instead.

  He nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “I mean, your side.”

  He had forgotten about his wounds, but being asked about them suddenly brought back reminders by way of a flurry of pain.

  Ana saw it in his face. “Wash…”

  “I’ll be fine after this,” Wash said.

  He dug out two of the half dozen painkillers he’d put into his cargo pants pocket for just such an occasion. He swallowed them down in one gulp and saw Emily wincing on the other side of her sister.

  “What’s that?” Ana asked.

  Wash shrugged. “I don’t know, but they seem to be working.”

  “How many have you taken so far?”

  “Two earlier today. These two make four.”

  “Four is a lot…”

  “Not when you’re running for your life.”

  She put her hand in his pocket and took out one of the pills. It was white and triangular, with writing on both sides: The number 8 on one and the letters P and D on the other.

  “Dilaudid,” Ana said, and put it back into his pocket. “They’re just as addictive as the Tramadol.”

  “I’d rather be addicted than dead,” Wash said.

  “I’m serious, Wash.”

  “So am I.”

  He glanced back at the trail.

  The massive trail that even a blind man could follow right to them.

  Dammit. We should have been more careful. I should have been more careful.

  Now what?

  He looked back at Ana. “Did you kill anyone back there?”

  “I shot Mathison…” she said.

  “But did you kill anyone? For sure?”

  She shook her head. “Mathison was the only one in the room with us.” She gritted her teeth. “I tried to end him, Wash. I really tried. But I told you I’m not a very good shot, right?”

  “But you did manage to hit him.”

  “He was standing in front of me when I pulled the trigger. And he’s still alive.”

  “Why didn’t you shoot him in the chest?”

  “That was where I was aiming, but I must have hesitated. Did you see where I got him?”

  “In the side.”

  “Well, at least I’m not completely useless.”

  He grinned to himself. He could call Ana a lot of things, but useless was definitely not one of them.

  “How many did you get back there?” Ana asked. She added, with some hopefulness in her voice, “You did get some, right?”

  “Three that I’m sure of,” Wash said. “Maybe four, but that might be wishful thinking. The problem with buckshot is that they spread too much, even over a short distance.”

  “So where does that leave us?”

  Another good question, except this time Wash had the answer. He didn’t like it. In fact, he hated it, but there was no other choice.

  “You and Emily keep going forward,” Wash said. “Try to find the highway that we used yesterday and head back to Kanter 11, if you’re able.”

  Ana gave him a confused look. “You mean ‘us,’ right? You, me, and Emily.”

  “No. I mean just you and Emily.”

  “What about you?”

  “They’re coming, Ana. Four of them. Maybe five. But definitely four. Sooner or later, they’re going to catch up. We can’t outrun them, and we can’t lose them. Not in here. Not like this.”

  “What are you saying, Wash?”

  “I’m saying, you and Emily keep moving and don’t stop, don’t look back, and whatever you do, don’t come back for me. Understand?”

  “Wash…”

  He opened his side pouch and took out a small tactical knife in a sheath and handed it to her. “The blade’s silver-coated. And it never runs out of bullets.”

  She stared at it, then at him, before releasing Emily’s wrist to take the knife. “Wash…”

  He grinned at her. It wasn’t entirely forced, and he thought it was mostly semi-credible. “Look, I’m not trying to get myself killed here. I have something to do in Texas. You know that. But they’re going to catch up to us eventually. When that happens, we’ll probably be tired and barely standing. This way, we have a fighting chance.”

  “But just you?”

  “No offense, but I have a way better chance by myself. I can’t worry about the both of you and fight at the same time.”

  That last part wasn’t a total lie, but he didn’t think Ana fully bought it.

  “I need to be able to move without having to worry about two chicks in nightgowns,” Wash said. “As fancy and sexy as you look at the moment, Ana, it’s just not very conducive to gunfights, you understand?”

  She smiled at him. It was a halfhearted attempt, and he thought she knew it, too.

  Ana walked over and put her arms around him in a hug. When she pulled back, he was ready to let go, but she kissed him first.

  It wasn’t like the first time, back at Kanter 11. There was a real urgency to her lips and her mouth this time, and he couldn’t help but lose himself in them. Their taste, their wetness, the warmth that flowed from her to him as if they were transferring their life energy to one another.

  But eventually it had to end, and when it did, Ana placed her forehead against his and whispered, “Don’t die, Washateria.”

  He grinned. “That’s the plan.”

  “I mean it.”

  “So do I. Have faith.”

  “I do. In you.” She pulled away. “Find us, okay? We’ll be waiting for you. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  She released him and turned to go without another word.

  “Thank you,” Emily said softly to him, before Ana tugged at her wrist and the sisters vanished into a patch of shadows in front of him.

  After a few seconds, there was no evidence they were ever there.

  Wash stared after them anyway, at the same time trying to think what the Old Man would say if he were here. The truth was, the old timer was too smart to ever put himself in such a precarious situation.

  Face it, old timer, it was always going to end in a place like this. We both knew it. One dark woods looks the same as any other. So why not here?

  He turned around, then went into a slight crouch, the Mossberg draped over one knee. He was carrying a much lighter load now that he didn’t have the extra pistol and spare shells to lug around. Wash wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing, though. Speed was great, but not at the cost of dwindling ammo.

  He sucked in a deep breath, then held it before closing his eyes and opening up his senses to the world around him.

  It was cold.

  It was dark.

  But it wasn’t quiet, because they were coming.

  He didn’t have to see them to know it. He could hear them. They weren’t talking, but they weren’t being shy about trampling over twigs and batting branches out of their path. He thought he could even hear their breathing.

  Haggard, out of breath, and…anxious.

  They were moving slowly, which he guessed
they could afford to, because they didn’t even have to try to track his and the sisters’ trail. They had left a hell of a mess. If he were smarter, he would have done something about that earlier.

  Then again, if he were smarter, he wouldn’t be here right now.

  Enough. Face the present. Face the enemy.

  Get ready…

  He crunched the numbers in his head.

  Five men. Maybe four, if he were lucky.

  (Yeah, right.)

  Four or five, they would be armed. That was a dead certainty.

  And one of them was Mathison. Big, ugly, bald Mathison.

  Somewhere behind him, still moving, were the sisters. Ana and Emily.

  “Find us, okay? We’ll be waiting for you. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Wash opened his eyes.

  “Hell, who wants to live forever anyway?” he whispered to the darkness, before getting up and moving farther back into the shadows.

  Twenty-Three

  They were coming, all five of them. Or maybe there was just four. But four or five—did it really matter? Not in the slightest, when it was just him versus them.

  Nine shells filled with lead buckshot…

  Just as he had expected, they were being careful, if not entirely silent. He was somewhat impressed with their plodding progress.

  Eighteen 9mm bullets tipped with silver…

  But he guessed they could afford to be slow and methodical because they knew exactly where he and the girls had gone. All they had to do was follow the trail of broken branches and twigs on the ground.

  Two spare magazines with seventeen 9mm apiece…

  Mathison would be among them. Wash didn’t for one second think Baldy would skip the hunt. He remembered the look on the big man’s face when he saw Wash in the cabin. There was no fear, no hatred, just annoyance that things hadn’t worked out the way he had planned.

  One very, very sharp machete...

  What exactly had gone down in that bedroom with Mathison and the sisters? Wash guessed he would find out if he survived this. It probably had a lot to do with why both Ana and Emily were still running through the woods right now, barefoot, wearing silk nightgowns. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

  Four, possible five men. All armed.

  He wished he could have brought more rounds for the 590A1, but the additional shells would have added even more weight, and he’d already been carrying too much already. The two spares for the Beretta would come in real handy once he had to ditch the shotgun, and Wash was pretty sure that was coming. As for the kukri strapped to his left leg…well, the longer he could delay reaching for it, the better.