by Sam Sisavath
She peered out the shattered driver-side window as Bonnie and Blaine came back. The two of them looked like they were on a nervous stroll through a dangerous park, armed to the teeth and carrying their luggage for some reason.
She exited the vehicle and looked into the truck bed. There were more empty beer cans back there, though these looked as if they had been exposed to the elements for much longer than the others. There were also two ammo cans for the machine gun. She climbed up and checked the weapon.
It was a different model than the M240 they had back on the Trident, but it didn’t take a genius to know how it operated. Every weapon was the same—the bullets went in one hole and out the other when you pulled the trigger. It was a no-brainer. The box of bullets attached underneath made the machine gun heavy when she moved it around on its tripod, which was welded to the top of the cab. There were spare casings around her feet, so someone had definitely been putting the gun to use.
From her high vantage point, Gaby took a moment to stare at the dark woods across the field one more time, the hairs along her arms spiking at the thought of running headfirst into that thing.
“How’s the view from up there?” Bonnie asked.
“Nice, but empty,” Gaby said, and jumped off the truck.
“Come on; let’s get the hell out of here,” Blaine said, opening the back door and throwing his pack inside first. “Houston’s not gonna come to us.”
14
LARA
“CAN YOU DO IT?”
“Yes.”
“You want to at least think about it first?”
“Do you want me to at least think about it?”
“It would be nice, yes. They used to be your friends.”
“They’re still my friends. But not if they’re trying to shoot me.”
“What if I asked you to shoot first?”
Peters didn’t answer that one as quickly. Lara looked across the map table and watched his expression. Peters was a tall, stocky man in his early thirties, as unassuming as they come, with short black hair poking out underneath the Houston Astros ball cap that he always seemed to have on. Or at least in the three times she’d seen him up close. The thing looked well worn, and she had no trouble whatsoever believing he had been wearing it even before The Purge. A rifle jutted out from behind his back. Some kind of bolt-action.
“I’m not saying I’m going to need you to do anything,” Lara said. “We’re talking worst-case scenarios.”
“I understand,” Peters nodded. For such a dangerous man, he was surprisingly soft-spoken, and even in a room with just the two of them she had to put some effort to hear him.
“If I need you to, can you do it?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he repeated.
“Why are you so willing?”
He stared back at her with hazel eyes. “I signed up with Mercer because I thought he was the right man, the right leader. But I discovered that wasn’t the case, even before Riley came to me. Everyone needs to believe in something, Lara. I chose badly with Mercer, but I rectified that. Now I’m choosing to believe in you.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you’re making another mistake.”
“Maybe I am. And if that turns out to be the case, I’ll deal with it. But for now, you asked me for my loyalty and I’m telling you that you have it, whether you think you deserve it or not.”
Lara could only nod, because everything she had planned to say sounded wholly underwhelming against that response from him. She had called him to the conference room to talk about what lay ahead, but she hadn’t expected this. The fact that it came from Peters made it even more astonishing, and at the same time terrifying.
The only thing she could think of to say was, “Thank you. That means a lot, Peters.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”
“Not quite.” She looked down at the map, at the small speck that was supposed to represent Black Tide Island. It really was in the middle of nowhere, and they would never have gotten within a hundred miles of it if they didn’t know it was even out there. “How familiar are you with the place?”
“We trained on it for months. Except for the missions into Texas, most of us spent our time there. So I know it pretty well.”
“If this whole thing is a trap, how would they attack us? Where are the boats, and how fast can they hit the water and swarm us?”
“Lara, if this is a trap, Cole and the other Warthogs could strafe you before you’re even within sight of Black Tide.”
Well damn, Peters, at least make an attempt to lie to me! she wanted to say, but she didn’t, because she knew he was right. So why wasn’t she more afraid?
Peters was still looking at her closely when he shrugged. “But if you want me to work up some scenarios, I can do that.”
“How soon can you have it for me?”
“I got a few hours to kill.”
A few hours to kill, she thought, wondering if Peters had meant that as some kind of joke, especially considering the two bodies she knew belonged to him on the Ocean Star. But Peters didn’t appear to be joking, not that she could really tell just by looking at the man’s face.
God, I’m glad he’s on my side.
“Anything else?” Peters asked when she didn’t say anything.
“You said you went on missions for Mercer. What did you do on them?”
“Mostly overwatch for the scouts. Keep people—and things—from getting in their way. We were fortunate; we never really ran into any major obstacles.”
“Never?”
“The few times we had run-ins, we dealt with them.”
“And the collaborators never knew?”
“Not as far as we know. But it wasn’t like we stayed in one place. The job was to map out their network, and once we did that, we moved on. The problem with the collaborators, and the towns themselves, is that they’re largely isolated and self-sustaining organisms. Without modern technology at their disposal, they don’t really have much communication with each other, with the other towns. So we were able to get away with fighting skirmishes when we couldn’t avoid them and still stay under the radar.”
Self-sustaining organisms, she thought. That was the last thing she expected to come out of Peters’s mouth. It wasn’t that she thought he was stupid—far from it, in fact—but it sounded so… What was the word? Scientific (?) coming from a man who could kill you before you even knew he was there.
“And no one ever connected the dots?” she asked.
“Apparently not.”
“Okay,” Lara said. “Come see me when you’re done with those scenarios. I know you think they’re useless, but I’d rather have something in place, just in case.”
“Will do,” he said, and turned to go.
“Marines, right?” she said after him.
He stopped at the door and glanced back. “Marines?”
“Danny said you used to be a Marine.”
There was just a bit of a grin on his face when he answered. “No one used to be a Marine, Lara. You’re either a Marine for life, or you never were.”
“So you’re a Marine.”
“No. I never had much use for the regimens of modern military life. Why did Danny think I was a Marine?”
“Because of your rifle. He’s only seen Marines carry it.”
“Ah,” Peters said, and left the conference room without another word.
Lara looked after him for a moment, almost expecting him to come back and elaborate on that answer, but of course he didn’t.
She shook her head and thought again, God, I’m glad he’s on our side.
She looked back down at the map. She didn’t know what she was looking for, or if any of Peters’s scenarios were going to make a bit of difference, but it felt good to be doing something during the trip.
“Lara, if this is a trap, Cole and the other Warthogs could strafe you before you’re
even within sight of Black Tide,” Peters had said.
Tell me something I don’t already know…a hundred times over.
There was no escaping it: She was taking a very big risk by going to Black Tide. As soon as they showed themselves, it would be impossible to turn away. How much did she trust Rhett? How much could you trust someone you’ve never met in person?
The X factor was Keo. He had trusted Rhett enough to give the man their emergency frequency in order to make contact. He wouldn’t have done that without a reason. Someone who didn’t know Keo might think he would have done it to save himself, but she knew better. Keo had gone to Black Tide to kill Mercer and was willing to die in order to do it. He wasn’t the kind of man who would sacrifice her and the Trident to save his own hide.
“You better not be wrong about this, Keo,” she said out loud to the empty room.
Lara didn’t know how long she stared at the map, thinking about all the things that could go wrong, all the lives that were in her hands, and wondering if this wasn’t the worst decision she’d ever made.
Wouldn’t be the first time. And it probably won’t be the last.
“Squid for your thoughts?” a voice said. She looked up at Carly, poking her head into the room. “You sleep conferencing again?”
Lara smiled at her friend. “I know, it’s a real problem.”
“You should see Zoe about that. There’s probably a pill for it or something.”
“Or something. What’s up?”
Carly came in and closed the door after her. “What’s up is that I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last half a minute or so.”
“You were?”
“You were out of it,” Carly said, doing jazz hands in the air. “Big, heady thoughts, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“I ran across the Shootist on the way here.”
“The what?”
“Peters. That’s what Danny calls him. Something to do with a John Wayne movie.” When Lara gave her an even more confused look, Carly sighed. “Danny’s old, Lara. He knows old man stuff.”
“He’s not that old.”
“Old enough to qualify for Medicare, if there were such things as Medicare still around.” Carly leaned against the table and looked down at the spot where Black Tide would be. “By the way, speaking of being a pain in the ass, Nate’s still bugging me about Gaby. I’m liable to punch that kid in the face if he asks me one more time.”
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“Of course not. That fool would just steal a boat and try to catch up to her.” Carly rolled her eyes. “Kids in love in the apocalypse. What will they think of next?”
“Kids, huh? Nate’s older than you.”
“Semantics.”
“That’s not really what semantics mean.”
“Shut up,” Carly said. Then, “So that’s it?”
Lara nodded. “That’s it.”
“Doesn’t look like much.”
“Nope.”
“And we’re going there.”
“Uh huh.”
“To ask them to join our little Scooby-Doo gang.”
“That’s the plan.”
“What if they say no?”
“I guess we say thanks and leave.”
“And they’re going to just let us head off into the sunset? Remember, we are carrying around over forty people that mutinied against them. Is that the right word? Mutinied?”
Lara nodded. “You’re becoming a regular Webster’s Dictionary.”
“What can I say? I have a lot of free time on my hands.” She put a finger over Black Tide. “Doesn’t look like much, does it? I can practically squish it with just one little pinky.”
“It’s apparently bigger in person. There’s even an airfield that runs through the middle.”
“Airfield means planes. Warplanes.”
“Yup.”
“Dangerous.”
“Definitely.”
“And we’re still going there.”
“We are.”
“Because Will says we need them.”
“He didn’t say we need them, but he said it’d be nice to have them.”
“He said that? Ghoul Will? ‘It’d be nice to have them?’”
“Something like that.”
“But that wasn’t the original plan.”
“No. He adapted.”
“Adapt or perish,” Carly said. “Now where have I heard that one before?” Carly looked across the table at her. “Okay, now that all the genius military talk is out of the way. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, Carly,” she said, and hoped the forced smile was at least semi-convincing.
It wasn’t if the frown on her friend’s face was any indication. “Danny told me you were surprisingly okay with Will leaving again so soon. But he said he understood why.”
“What else did he say?”
“That he felt the same way. As much as he was happy Will was still alive—well, sort of, you know what I mean—he’s not the same man who left Song Island all those months ago. Hell, he’s not even a man anymore. He’s…something else. That’s reality. Danny says they could never go back to the way things were. It was hard for him to admit it, but Danny can be very pragmatic sometimes when he puts his mind to it. Is that the right word?”
She nodded. “He’s right. Will’s not the man he used to be.”
“What was it like? Talking to him again?”
What was it like, Carly? Thrilling and frightening and discombobulating, all at the same time. I still can’t decide even now.
“It was…strange,” she said. “Will’s there—he’s finally back—but he’s not really there. When I hear him talk, when he brings up the things from our past, it’s like I’m listening to a recording of our history together. It doesn’t feel real.”
“I’m sorry,” Carly said.
“For what?”
“For everything. I would have looked for you sooner and did all the girly stuff—you know, cry over ice cream and bad rom-coms on Blu-ray—but I knew you were busy with Black Tide and all the other stuff we’re not supposed to tell anyone who hasn’t been on this boat longer than a few days.”
“It’s okay. Really.”
“Danny wanted to go, of course. With Will. But I told him he couldn’t.”
“He told me.”
“Did he tell you why?”
“He said you wanted to be the one to tell me.”
Carly sighed. “The only way I could make him stay was by telling him that I’m carrying his devil child.”
Lara stared at her friend, speechless. She waited for the punchline, but Carly only smiled back at her.
“Really?” Lara finally said.
“Really,” Carly nodded.
Lara hurried around the table and slipped her arms around Carly, and the other woman laughed as she hugged her back. They might have also been on the verge of tears, but at the moment neither one of them cared, though Lara did glance at the door to make sure it was closed.
“Danny hinted at it,” Lara said.
“I’m surprised he managed to keep it a secret this long,” Carly said. “I guess threatening him with his own shotgun worked after all.”
Lara pulled back and looked down at Carly’s belly. She wasn’t showing yet and wouldn’t for a while. “You’re going to be a great mom.”
“I’m going to get fat,” Carly frowned.
Lara laughed. “So we’ll get you a big jacket. It’s winter, anyway. No one will suspect a thing.”
“Yeah, but there goes my fashionista cred.”
They laughed and hugged again, and this time Lara was pretty sure they were both sobbing like little girls. Good news was so hard to find these days, and after everything they had been through, she was glad there was at least one unquestionably good (great) thing happening in the world.
“DAEBAK,” the voice said over the radio. “Didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.”
/>
“You’re a hard man to kill, Keo,” Lara said. She couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice.
“Only because I have a lot to live for. Like seeing you guys again.”
Maddie was at the helm on the bridge of the Trident, Danny and Riley standing behind her. Black Tide wasn’t even close to being in sight yet, but it was out there somewhere. The sun had begun its downward trajectory on the horizon, but they still had a couple of hours left. Sooner or later they would have to stop and anchor, because Lara had no intentions of showing up at the island in pitch darkness. Bad things happened when it was night, even out here.
“He’s a regular John McClane, all right,” Danny was saying. “Reminds me of me.”
“Who?” Lara said.
“Die Hard.”
“That doesn’t help.”
Danny sighed. “Seriously, what did you do with all your free time when you were a kid, missy?”
“It’s a movie,” Riley said.
“See, here’s a man with taste.”
Lara turned back to the microphone. “How are they treating you over there, Keo?”
“Pretty good, all things considered,” Keo said.
“Considering he blew their dear leader’s brains out, I’d say that’s an understatement,” Maddie said.
Danny chuckled. “Yeah, ol’ Keo’s got himself a way with the locals, all right.”
“Some guys did try to kill me earlier today,” Keo was saying.
“You okay?” Lara asked.
“Nicked, but still in one piece. Well, mostly.”
“Mostly is good.”
“Anyway, the reason I’m calling. Rhett wanted me to assure you that he’s willing and able to listen to what you have to say when you arrive, in case your extended convo with him earlier wasn’t enough to convince you.”
“That’s awfully considerate of him.”
“Yeah, Rhett’s a real Southern gentleman, like that guy from that movie Danny probably knows, but don’t ask him because I don’t really care.”
Danny grunted and mouthed something, but Lara didn’t catch it.
“But considering it’s almost dark,” Keo was saying, “it might be a good idea to wait until tomorrow before putting the tugboat into harbor. Morning-ish, say.”