by Kali Argent
Nikolai wondered if maybe that shouldn’t have skipped the salon after all.
Inside the coffeehouse, they located a single, one-liter bottle of water that had rolled under the front counter, and two bags of whole-bean coffee, which Kamara eagerly shoved into her pack.
“What about the pharmacy?” Kamara pointed across the intersection, indicating a blue building surrounded by a broken white fence. “We have time.”
“We don’t get sick,” he reminded her. “We heal when we’re wounded. I don’t think we need bandages or antibiotics.”
“I’m well aware, but not all of our friends are so lucky. Some are very much human.”
“Of course. I didn’t think.”
It didn’t surprise him that Kamara had. She always thought of others, placing everyone she met before herself. It could be infuriating at times, especially when her desire to help put her in danger, but at the same time, it was one of the many things he adored about her.
She was better than him in every way, but in this particularly, because while she may put others first, he simply couldn’t do it. There wasn’t a single person on the planet he would place before his mate, and though he hoped fate didn’t require it of him, he would happily die to prove it.
“Oh, wow,” Kamara breathed when they stepped into the pharmacy and were greeted by the twinkling of the bell over the door. “It’s barely been touched.”
Indeed, the shelves appeared nearly pristine. Only the rows that had once held things like toiletries, baby products, and what few groceries the pharmacy offered had been disturbed.
“This is very strange.”
“What?” She barely took the time to glance at him as she stuffed gauze, tape, antibiotic ointments, and pain relievers into her bag.
“Only Gemini would have left these items, cara mia.”
She nodded, slinging one strap of the backpack over her shoulder as she turned to march to the back of the store. “I thought about that, but I think it’s a safe bet that they’ve moved on by now. There’s nothing else left for them to take.”
Huffing, he followed, jogging to catch up to her just as she reached the pharmacist’s window. “Where are you going?”
“To see if I can find penicillin or other antibiotics.” Dropping her bag on the floor, she hopped over the counter, grunting when she landed on the other side. “Two seconds,” she called. “Then, we’ll go check out the hardware store.”
Nikolai doubted they’d have as much luck across the street, but then again, the town had been full of surprises.
“All set.” Hopping back over the counter, Kamara tossed three bottles into her bag, then hoisted it up over her shoulders.
Sadly, the hardware store across the street proved to be less fruitful. He’d expected it, but he was still disappointed when they walked away with only two rolls of electrical tape for their efforts. He didn’t even know what the hell they’d use the tape for, but his mate had assured him they needed them.
“I saw a mobile home park across that field behind the coffeehouse.” They needed a place to rest for the evening, but he’d prefer somewhere a little more secure if they could find it. “We should check that out tomorrow. Maybe we can find a car.”
“Good thinking.” Pointing to the end of the street at modest-sized brick building on the corner, she picked up her pace, a wide grin stretching her lips. “I think that’s the police station.”
Darkness had begun to encroach on the small town of Brookfield, Oklahoma, bringing their scavenging to an end for the day. Nikolai didn’t get his hopes up that they’d find weapons or food there, but it did fulfill his wish for a secure place to hide away until the morning.
Three blocks past the pharmacy, they stood together at the bottom on the cement steps in front of the local police department. Placing his hand on the small of Kamara’s back, he ushered her up the stairs and through the frost glass doors that opened to a musty, sand-covered waiting area.
Once inside he engaged the deadbolt, then shoved a nearby desk in front of the doors for good measure. If someone really wanted to get in, his precautions wouldn’t stop them, but hopefully, it would slow them down long enough for him and Kamara to escape out the back.
Finding the light switch along the nearest wall, Kamara flipped it up and down a few times, but neither of them were overly surprised when nothing happened. The place likely had a backup generator for emergencies, but it was just as likely that it had been stolen in the early days of the Purge.
“Okay, we need to hurry and search this place while we still have some daylight.” Leading the way past the reception counter, Kamara pushed open another frosted glass door, but recoiled before crossing the threshold. “Just once, I’d like to walk into a place without a dead body.”
“There were no bodies in any of the shops we searched.”
Smiling, she patted his chest and pushed up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Your sarcasm, sweetheart, is not lost on me.” She kissed him again, then turned away to shove open the door, this one leading into the bullpen. “Okay, you take the storage room. I’ll search the desks. Meet you back here in ten minutes?”
He didn’t like the idea of splitting up, but he also knew she was right. The sun had almost set, and he didn’t relish searching the station in complete blackness.
“Ten minutes.”
As expected, the supply closets had been emptied, all except for a decomposed body that wasn’t much more than bones and scraps of what had once been a police uniform. It was a testament to how much death and carnage they’d endured that the sight of it barely phased him.
The storage room had proved to be less disappointing, and after a little digging, he’d walked away with a working flashlight and a serrated utility knife.
“I found a package of stale crackers, two cigarette lighters, and these.” By way of greeting when they met back in the bullpen, Kamara held up a subcompact pistol and a standard-issue 9mm. “Not bad, huh?”
“Impressive. Trade me.” He passed over the flashlight and knife before taking the larger handgun from her. “No bullets?”
“Nope. Sorry.” She took the gun back and tossed it into the bag, along with the other items they’d gathered. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find some ammunition in the house tomorrow morning.” She held up the subcompact. “This one, however, still has eight rounds. Just like the last one we found, it hasn’t been fired.”
Nikolai glanced over her shoulder at the closed door of a private office. The gold letters on the opaque glass had been mostly scraped off, making the writing indecipherable, but he surmised it had belonged to the police chief or someone equally as important. Hell, in a town as small as Brookfield, it might have been the mayor’s office.
“You found these in there?” He dipped his head toward the closed door.
“Yep.” Sliding the pistol into her waistband, she leaned her hip against the desk and folded her arms. “I took them off the dead guy. I didn’t figure he’d mind.”
“Kamara, I’m sorry.” Winding an arm around her tiny waist, he pulled her against him and brushed a kiss against her brow. “I’m sorry you had to see that. There’s another one in the supply closet.”
“And two more under the desk in the corner.” Shrugging off his hold, Kamara stepped around him and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m fine, Nik. It’s not like I haven’t seen dead bodies before.” Lifting her arms, she linked her hands together on the top of her head and turned in a small circle. “It is what it is. At least we have a weapon now.”
“I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier.” He hated to ask, but he had to know. “How did he die?”
“No idea,” Kamara mumbled, dropping her hands back to her side. “He’s been dead for a while. There’s not much left of him.” Dropping her hands, she rounded her shoulders, looking for all the world as if she’d fold in on herself any at any moment.
“I threw up the first time I saw a dead body,” he admitted in an offer of solidarity.
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“I did, too. Some are worse than others.” Her gaze drifted toward the back of the room. “These guys have been here too long for it to smell this bad. I think there’s another body here somewhere, a pretty recent death.”
“I agr—” Pressing his lips together, he jerked around, staring into the darkness of the hallway on the other side of the room.
“Nik?”
Meeting Kamara’s gaze in the fading light that filtered through the windows, he pressed his index finger to his lips, then reached up and tapped his ear, holding his breath as he listened. Quietly, he shuffled over to the backpack where it sat on a dented metal desk. Once he’d retrieved the flashlight and the utility knife, he moved back to his mate’s side, angling himself between her and the hallway.
Pulling the handgun from her waistband, she scissor-stepped to his side, eyes alert, body tense.
“What is it?” she whispered.
Nothing happened for several tense seconds, and he almost wrote it off as paranoia when he heard the sound again.
Click. Click. Click.
It took him less than a heartbeat to put an image to the sound, to picture the scrape of claws over the checkered linoleum. Blade in one hand, flashlight in the other, he took a step forward, peering into the darkened corridor as he placed himself between his mate and the looming danger once again.
“I’m the one with the gun,” she reminded him, pushing him to the side so that she could aim the barrel down the hallway. “I can’t see anything.”
Click. Click, click. Click.
The footsteps came closer, the sound of nails against the tiles growing louder as the intruder stalked them.
Pointing the flashlight into the dark, Nikolai covered the power button with his thumb, but hesitated. “You ready?”
Kamara took another step forward, spread her feet, and squared her shoulders. “Ready.”
He clicked on the flashlight, flooding the darkness with bright, blinding light.
“Oh, fuck,” Kamara breathed.
Not one, but six Ravagers filled the corridor, their broad shoulders and muscled bodies filling every inch of the space. The one closest to them cocked his head to the side, his black eyes squinted against the glare of the flashlight, and bared his fangs as he took a deliberate step closer.
The first shot echoed through the police station, finding its mark in the center of the beast’s forehead and dropping him to the ground. Unfortunately, instead of deterring the rest of his pack, it only seemed to enrage them. Growling, snarling, and roaring, they charged down the remainder of the hallway, bursting into the room quicker than Nikolai would have thought possible.
Kamara fired over and over, but they were too fast, and she only succeeded in bringing down one more before she’d emptied her clip. Tossing the handgun to the ground, she grabbed Nikolai by the back of his shirt and dragged him toward the rear of the building.
“Go! Run!”
With their way toward the lobby blocked, they sprinted through the police station, running for the back door and checking over their shoulders every few seconds as the Ravagers pursued. In their distraction, neither of them realized they were headed in the wrong damn direction until it was too late.
Whines and chuffs, heavy breathing and eerie scratching mingled with a strange, metallic clanking, growing louder as they neared the station’s holding cells. They couldn’t go forward, and they couldn’t turn back. They were trapped, and Nikolai had no idea how they’d make it out alive. Holding his breath, he tightened his grip on the knife until his fingers ached and his knuckles cracked.
“What do we do?” he asked, bending to his mate’s expertise and experience.
Crouching into a defensive posture, Kamara angled toward the doorway. “The only thing we can do. We fight.”
Earsplitting screams reverberated through the room, coming not from the Ravagers chasing them, but from the cells behind them. Convinced they were about to be torn into tiny pieces, Nikolai spun toward the sound, his flashlight shining into the nearest cell. At least a dozen Ravagers threw themselves against their cage, reaching for him through the narrow bars. Claws extended, fangs bared, they screeched and growled, their expressions twisted into masks of hunger and rage.
“What the hell?” Stumbling away from the long, grasping fingers, he fell backward into the cells lining the opposite wall, grunting when the steel bars dug into his shoulder blades.
The impact jarred both objects from his hands, sending the flashlight bouncing across the stone floor in one direction, and the blade sliding down the corridor toward the exit. The light didn’t flicker and die like in the movies, but it probably would have been less terrifying if it had. At least then he wouldn’t have seen what came next.
The door of the last cell swung open with a deep groan, and a Ravager the size of a goddamn tank stepped out into the corridor. Tattoos covered his chest and back, up the side of his neck, and over his shorn scalp. Long, sharp claws grew from both his fingers and his bare feet, and his pale, gray skin stretched tight over his broad frame, encasing huge, bulging muscles.
Confidence saturated the monster’s every move as he bent to retrieve the flashlight, then raised to his full, intimidating height once again. Smirking, the Ravager stared at him for half a heartbeat before switching off the light, plunging them into inky blackness. The moment the light went out, thin, boney arms reached through the bars behind him and wrapped around his neck, trapping him while the monster snapped its jaws near his ear.
“Kamara, go! Run!”
“I’m not leaving you!”
Hot, foul breath bathed the side of his face as he fought to free himself, clawing and pulling at the arms cutting off his oxygen. Bare feet slapped against the floor, moving fast as they approached from the end of the row, followed by more growls from the opposite direction.
In the thin ray of moonlight that spilled through the single window set high on the back wall, Nikolai kept one eye on the tank-sized Ravager charging toward him as he struggled with the other one choking the life out of him. Loosening the grip on his neck just enough to shift his weight, he kicked out with both feet, catching the charging beast in the chest when he dove through the air. Shoving with all his strength, Nikolai managed to keep the thing’s dripping jaws at bay for a while, but it didn’t take long for him to realize he fought a losing battle.
Kamara was engaged in her own fight, unable to help him, but at least she’d found the knife that had fallen from his hand in the chaos. She used it to slice through the Ravagers, ducking and dodging, slicing and stabbing, but the beasts just kept coming.
Still grappling with the Ravager behind him, he shoved hard with his legs, dislodging the one in front of him long enough to wrap his legs around the wolf’s head. In the same fluid movement, he grabbed both wrists around his neck in a steel grip and flipped his body sideways.
The pain-filled screams rose over the sickening crunch of breaking bones as he snapped the arms of one creature and drove the head of the other into the cement floor. Neither would be down long, but Nikolai was already on his feet, throwing himself into the mass of fighting bodies.
Back to back, he and Kamara swiveled in half circles, trying to cover every angle, but they were outnumbered, their chances of survival dwindling with each breath. One after another, loud, bloodcurdling screeches reverberated off the walls as the Ravagers swiped at them, then retreated, teasing them, taunting them.
Kamara cried out from behind him, and Nikolai felt more than saw her go down.
“Kamara!”
His momentary distraction cost him when a Ravager lunged at him, grabbing him around his waist and tackling him to the floor as he growled and snapped his teeth. Fending off the monster with only one hand, pushing and shoving at its deformed face, he searched for Kamara with his other, but he couldn’t find her.
Sharp, jagged claws cut across his cheek as more the creatures descended, slicing at him, biting him, separating flesh from bone, and soaking Nikola
i in his own blood. The growls, grunts, screeches, and screams echoed throughout the room, reaching deafening levels as they all blended together into one horrifying sound. Swinging out blindly, connecting with any part of the monsters he could reach, he dug his heels into the floor, trying to find traction to get to his feet.
He knew the moment the biggest one regained consciousness, because the roar was so loud and so deep, it vibrated down into Nikolai’s bones. This was it. This was how he would die.
“No one is dying today,” Kamara answered inside his head.
With a wild scream of her own, she barreled into the nearest Ravager, sending him stumbling into the one Nikolai assumed was their alpha. In the midst of their bloodlust, it didn’t seem to matter who they fought as long as carnage ensued. The two males growled at each other and traded blows as they grappled for dominance, throwing each other into the bars of the cells and eventually onto the tiled floor. Nikolai forgotten, the other Ravagers surged to their feet, chuffing and snarling as they danced around the fighting males.
“Get up.” Kamara grabbed his arm, straining as she dragged him to his feet. “Go, go, go!”
He’d lost a lot of blood, sustained countless injuries, and every step sent fire coursing through his body, but Nikolai didn’t slow down, keeping pace with Kamara as she led them back to the bullpen. As they passed the desk nearest the exit, she grabbed the strap of the backpack without breaking stride, and slung it over one shoulder as they darted into the lobby. Instead of taking time to move the desk, she grabbed a paperweight from the front counter and hurled it at the window to shatter the glass.
“Let’s go!” She didn’t slow as she ran for the door, but jumped onto the desk and slid across it—straight through the open doorframe and out onto the front steps.
On the street again, Kamara waited for Nikolai to join her, wracking her brain for somewhere to go, somewhere to hide. She could already hear the growls rising in volume, coming closing, and they wouldn’t have long before the monsters reached the front door of the police station.