by Kyla Stone
His grin widened.
He had the same dimple in his left cheek as Gabriel, she thought with a pang. “There’s nothing here. Shall we hit the next place?”
A sudden noise outside the storage room stilled her. She met Micah’s gaze. Be careful, his eyes warned. She nodded. Before she could speak or move, two people stepped into the doorway, blocking their only exit.
They were young, maybe college students. The girl was broad-shouldered but skinny, with stringy brown hair. The guy was taller, with a bristly beard and a backward faded baseball cap. It was hard to discern their facial features through their masks and protective eyewear. They both wore heavy-duty work gloves.
The guy held a gun. The girl raised a crowbar, pointing it at them.
His rifle was slung over his shoulder, but he didn’t have time to reach it. He stepped in front of Amelia and raised his arms.
Amelia followed suit, her heart beating hard against her ribs. Had the world gone completely mad? “We were looking for some food, that’s all.”
“If this is your territory, we’ll leave,” Micah said.
The guy nodded to the girl, who took a hesitant step back. Amelia tried to read their
intent, but couldn’t see their eyes clearly behind their goggles. “Give us that gun,” the guy said in a deep tenor voice.
Micah didn’t move. “You’ve got a gun. We need to protect ourselves, too.”
“You don’t seem to be doing such a great a job,” the girl said. “You ain’t even wearing gloves. You got a death wish or something?”
“Or are you immune?” The guy cocked his head, studying them. “You get exposed and not get sick?”
“We were quarantined at a naval base in Jacksonville for almost three weeks,” Amelia said. “We got separated from our transport. We don’t know what’s going on.”
The guy shook his head and eyed Amelia. “Lucky you.”
Amelia remembered her mother’s warning. She straightened her shoulders, immensely grateful her diamond bracelet was hidden from this guy’s hungry stare. She forced herself not to flinch, not to show weakness. Maybe she could distract them, keep them talking. If they established a connection, the pair was less likely to try to hurt them. “What happened here?”
“The world went to hell, is what happened.” The girl’s voice came out high and reedy. She kept shifting from one foot to the other, her fingers trembling around the crowbar. She was jumpy. Maybe drugs. Or maybe she was just as scared as Amelia.
“Where are the closest functioning cities or bases?” Micah asked.
“Now that the net’s down, nobody knows anything. All the channels play the same emergency alert drivel. Only thing I know is the cities still got food, but they’re dangerous as hell.”
“Why’s that?” Amelia’s stomach twisted. Sweat beaded her forehead. She didn’t like that gun pointed in her face.
“’Cause that’s where all the dead are,” the girl said darkly.
“Come on, man.” The guy jerked his head at Micah. “Give us that gun.”
Outside, someone shouted. Probably Horne or Jericho. The pair jerked around, craning their heads, panic evident in the tension of their shoulders, the wild swing of their weapons.
“Those are the rest of our people,” Micah said calmly. “They aren’t bad, but they are armed and capable of defending themselves—and us. We don’t want to hurt you, but I’m not giving you my gun.”
The guy swore softly. He backed out of the doorway. “Come on!”
The girl paused, looking at Amelia. “I’d stay quiet if I were you.”
Amelia raised her eyebrows. It wasn’t a threat, but a warning. “Why?”
“This is Headhunter territory. They don’t take kindly to those that steal from them. They’ll hear you if you aren’t more careful.” She tugged two wrinkled respiratory masks from her pocket and tossed them at Amelia. “So be careful.”
“Thanks,” Amelia called after them as they disappeared from the doorway. Micah hurried out of the storage room after them. They slipped out the back door and were gone.
“They were scared,” Amelia said.
Micah nodded. “I wonder what they would’ve done when I didn’t give up our gun.”
“Good thing we didn’t have to find out.” But what about next time? There wouldn’t be a next time, she told herself. They’d be within a secure safe zone inside Fort Benning in a few days. All of this would just be another nightmare to add to all the others.
Outside, Horne shouted something again. He was gathering the group. Amelia and Micah joined Jericho, Silas, Finn and Willow, and everyone else milling in the parking lot outside the McDonald’s next door. Willow and Finn carried backpacks. Willow handed out several pairs of plastic gloves.
“Keep your voice down,” Amelia warned.
“What for, my dear? There’s no one here.” Horne flashed her an oily smile. His gaze flickered over her body. It only made her dislike him more.
Amelia ignored Horne. She turned to Jericho and explained about the couple and their warning. “We should be careful.”
Horne grunted dismissively. “We’ve got our very own bodyguard and an arsenal of weapons. We’re fine.”
Amelia glared at him. He was a pompous fool, arrogant and conceited. She endured him at enough of her father’s fundraising galas to form a solid impression. It wasn’t improving.
“It’s not noon yet.” Jericho pointed at the sun.
Her stomach growled painfully. She tugged her SmartFlex out of her pocket to check the time. It was after eleven. Her battery blinked at less than three percent. Though few of the features functioned, she still liked knowing that it was working, that she’d have it when the world came back online.
“There’s a big-box store about two miles to the east,” Horne said. “I saw a road sign. That’s our best chance to find the supplies we need—and food.”
“I’m starving,” Celeste moaned.
“We all are.” Willow pulled Benjie closer to her. “What about what those people said? About that Headhunter gang?”
Horne shook his head. “Law and order breaks down for a few days and everybody thinks they’re kings of their own castle. Don’t worry so much, sweetheart.”
Willow’s eyes flashed. “I’m not your sweetheart.”
Nadira turned to Amelia, her dark eyes wide. “You think it’s dangerous?”
Amelia’s mother moved to stand beside her. She worried her lower lip. “Everywhere is dangerous.”
This time, Amelia didn’t roll her eyes.
9
Gabriel
The handcuffs bit painfully into Gabriel’s wrists. The two-mile walk hadn’t bothered him, though his throat burned with thirst, and he’d endured Celeste’s moaning about blisters for the last thirty minutes.
They moved over the crest of the hill. The big-box store, Stuff ‘N More, spread before them with its sprawling parking lot full of cars, half with their doors hanging open, their windows busted. A cart blew in the wind, rattled over the pavement, and smacked into a rust-red four-door sedan.
None of the store’s windows were broken. The glass was covered with a dark reflective film.
Figures were sprawled on the ground, scattered mostly near the entrance, but a few more bunched in between some of the cars. They weren’t moving. “Bodies,” he murmured.
“In case you haven’t noticed, there are bodies everywhere,” Silas said with a flippant wave of his hand.
“I’ve noticed.” They made their way down the steep slope and cleared the parking lot, walking single file through a row of several dozen cars. His heartbeat accelerated the closer they got. None of these people died from the Hydra Virus. “Entrance wounds. Bullets.”
“I can see,” Jericho said. “Look alive, people.”
His gaze flickered between the cars, the bodies, and the ominously silent storefront. The hairs on his neck prickled. Something was off, something beyond the obvious.
“Give me a weapon.�
� Gabriel balled his fists, straining against the cuffs. He was sick and tired of feeling helpless. There were predators here. They needed to protect themselves—and He could help them. He knew how to shoot, how to fight.
The rest of these people could go to hell, but he still cared about Micah and Amelia. He needed to know they were safe. “I can help.”
“Shut up already,” Silas said. “Your whining is making my ears bleed.”
Jericho didn’t respond. He raised his gun and crouched, carefully leading them between a couple of trucks, an SUV, and several sedans. Gabriel’s pants snagged on a rusty bumper. Something with the cars. Something Jericho felt too, by the tenseness of his shoulders.
“Maybe we should find a shaded area for the women and children to rest while you guys appraise the situation.” Horne licked his lips nervously.
“Let me guess, you’re graciously volunteering your services?” Silas sneered.
“I’m merely making a suggestion in the best interests of all those involved,” Horne continued in his irritating, simpering voice.
Gabriel twisted around to look back the way they’d come. His mouth went dry. The cars weren’t randomly parked. The vehicle carcasses created a large, irregular funnel. The group was being funneled toward the entrance of the store.
It was a trap. “Micah, take them back—!” But he didn’t get to finish his sentence.
A spray of bullets struck the pavement at their feet. Gabriel stumbled back. Jericho, Silas, and Micah leapt aside, raising their weapons wildly, searching for the threat.
Five armed men rose from the two-story roof, aiming rifles down at them. The glass front doors slid open with a soft hiss. Three more men strode out, cradling their own automatic weapons.
“Oh, crap,” Micah whispered.
Gabriel clenched his jaw. He needed a gun, damn it. If they were going to force him to live, then at least he could do something useful. Micah stood only a few feet away, the brother he promised his mother he’d protect. Just us. Always. Behind him, he could sense Amelia’s presence like a burning brand at his back.
The leader pulled off his respirator, but stopped a dozen paces away. “Here to shop?”
“Something like that,” Jericho said.
Horne crossed his arms over his chest. “We need food and supplies.”
“You and everyone else.” The man chuckled like he’d told a particularly funny joke. But his eyes were vigilant as he scanned their group. He was muscular, with a lean, craggy face. He wore jeans and a leather vest, his black hair pulled back in a ponytail. He wore a brown animal fur draped across his shoulders.
This was a dangerous man. Gabriel had seen enough of them to know. The rest of his crew were just as rough: all brawny, heavily tattooed and pierced. The thugs in the parking lot wore masks, but the bastards up top didn’t. One skinny guy boasted cropped blond hair. The other’s eyes were slitted in an iron stare, his lips, nose, and ears studded with rings. They all wore pelts.
Gabriel gritted his teeth. He jerked at his handcuffs, but they held tight.
“We’ll conduct our shopping and be on our way,” Horne said, oblivious to the threat.
“Let me think about that,” the guy next to the leader said. A silver chain linked his nose to his upper lip. “No.”
“You have no right to deny access!” Horne puffed out his chest in an arrogant—and utterly useless—display of authority. “This store doesn’t belong to you.”
“Shut up!” Gabriel said.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Ponytail said. “It all belongs to us. We’re the law, the gov’ment, everything you can think of. We’re it.” His eyes slid past Gabriel, resting on Amelia and her mother. His grin widened. “Unless you got something worth trading for.”
Heat flushed through Gabriel, that old familiar rage awakening inside him. If these thugs hurt Amelia, he’d kill them. He’d saw off their heads with a dull, rusted knife. He yanked on his handcuffs until he felt the skin tear. Droplets of blood ran down his fingers.
“We don’t have anything to trade,” Jericho said.
“They don’t got nothing,” Sidekick said. “Not even masks. No idea how they’re alive and kickin’. They can’t all be immune.”
“Oh, I think they have something.” Ponytail’s gaze flickered to Elise, then Celeste, then came to rest again on Amelia. “Everyone has something.”
“We have a few high-end SmartFlexes,” Horne said. “I own a particularly expensive one with rubies. Latest generation. Top of the line. We’re willing to trade. We’ve got a girl with a diamond bracelet.”
Amelia hissed out an outraged breath. Ponytail noticed, his eyes narrowing as his mouth widened in a sharp, toothy smile. “How about we take the diamonds—and the girl.”
“Go to hell, you asshole,” Gabriel growled.
The smile didn’t leave Ponytail’s lips. “This is a new economy, see. A new world order. We trade in resources. That’s all that’s left, at least out here where the gov’ment left us long ago to fend for ourselves. Humans are resources. Some understand that. Some don’t.”
“Whatever you’re insinuating, we’ll pass.” Nerves trembled Micah’s voice. “We’re leaving now.”
“Nah, I don’t think so.” Ponytail stepped forward. The men on either side of him raised their weapons.
Jericho leveled his rifle at the same time. “I’ve got you in my sights. You sure you can take me out before I get your leader?”
Sidekick snorted. “He ain’t our leader.”
“He’ll be dead all the same.” Silas trained his gun on Sidekick. “And so will you.”
Micah’s gun pointed at the guy to Ponytail’s right. Horne pulled out his pistol but kept it
hanging loosely at his side, his arm shaking. Gabriel wasn’t surprised. The big-talkers were always the biggest cowards. He stood helpless in his cuffs, filled with impotent rage.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Tension sizzled the air.
He could charge Ponytail and head butt him in the belly. He’d likely get shot, but it could be enough of a distraction for Silas, Micah, and Jericho to take out the sidekicks. But those damn assholes on the roof could pick off everyone else in a matter of seconds. It was too dangerous.
He glanced around. A silver Ford truck parked in front of the store, one door open. To his left was a minivan, an SUV, and a burnt-orange sports car leaking fluid. There were several more cars to his right. If they could get behind the vehicles, use them for cover, maybe they’d have a chance.
Ponytail rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Who do you think is gonna win this game of chicken?”
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Micah said. “We can all walk away, no harm done.” Micah the negotiator, the peacemaker. But Micah didn’t recognize the greedy
gleam in Ponytail’s eyes the way Gabriel did. Things wouldn’t end peacefully this time.
Something erupted from the silver truck’s opened door. Gabriel caught only a glimpse of color, a large shape careening straight toward Amelia.
“No!” he cried hoarsely.
But it was too late.
10
Amelia
Amelia stood, her muscles tensed to flee, her gaze glued on the thug in the leather vest. His viper eyes reminded her of Kane. Her heart was a frenzy inside her chest, beating so hard she could hardly breathe, hardly think. She would die before she let them take her. She would die before anyone hurt her like that again.
“Amelia,” her mother said in warning.
But Amelia wasn’t listening. Her pulse thundered in her head. She would run. If they shot her, at least she’d die free.
Someone—Gabriel—shouted.
She didn’t even see the thing until it grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back and spinning her sideways. She stumbled, confused and terrified. Something gripped her shoulders and jerked her to her feet.
A man lunged out of nowhere and grabbed her. She shrank back. There was something very, very wrong with him.<
br />
“Help me!” He screamed into her face, blood-flecked spittle striking her cheeks and forehead.
His eyes bulged. They were bloodshot, the veins bursting until his whole eye looked red. Blood smeared below both of his eyes and around his gaping mouth. His skin was gray, his face both bloated and gaunt at the same time. Red-specked foam glistened at the corners of his mouth. A fetid stench emanated from him, of something rotting.
His hands gripping her arms were burning hot, his whole body radiating heat like a live ember. “Save me!” he shrieked.
The people who’d been near her scattered.
“Amelia!” her mother screamed. Amelia twisted, desperate to break free. But the man gripped her with iron strength. How could he be so sick and still this strong?
Her mother tried to reach her, but Finn was there, holding her back. “Stay clear!”
“Let me go!” Amelia gasped.
The man coughed again, spraying her chest and hair. She closed her eyes and lunged back. He stumbled with her, knocking them both to their knees.
A bullet whistled past her ear and struck the man in the head with a soft pop. He went limp and slumped to the ground.
Amelia knelt there, frozen, her arms stretched out, staring in horror at the blood splattered over her clothes, her hands, her chest and face.
“Amelia!” Gabriel said.
She dimly heard other voices calling her name. The roaring in her ears drowned everything out. A sick man attacked her. Then he died, right in front of her, inches away. Blood drenched her clothes and skin. Infected blood.
She sucked in her breath, a wave of dizziness rushing over her.
“Damn, that Hydra virus is nasty,” Ponytail cackled. “Good thing Jinx up there is such a great shot. You can thank her later. Except you won’t live that long. What a pity, too. You were a real stunner.”