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The Gates of Byzantium (The Babylon Series, Book 2)

Page 41

by Sam Sisavath


  Lara’s head snapped in Danny’s direction and she opened her mouth to scream, but she didn’t have to. Danny had either heard or seen Marcus coming through the other door and was already sprinting across the room. She had never seen him move so fast, and hadn’t known he was even capable of that kind of speed.

  Marcus fired at Danny—too fast.

  Either adrenaline or fear had gotten the best of him and Marcus’s first shot went wide, slamming into the wall behind Danny, at least three feet off its mark. Realizing his mistake, Marcus took careful aim with his second shot.

  “No!” Lara screamed.

  Marcus jumped at the sound of her voice. He swung the gun in her direction, but he quickly got over the shock and turned back toward Danny, who was halfway across the room by now.

  Marcus shot again—and missed again. Though this time he came closer to hitting Danny, and Lara swore Danny flinched as the bullet zipped past his head.

  Danny, still running, threw the knife while in mid-stride and the sharp blade flashed across the room and embedded into the side of Marcus’s neck. Marcus let out a wheezing sound and dropped the gun and stumbled sideways.

  Lara scrambled forward and snatched the gun from the floor even as Marcus moved around in front of her on wobbly legs like some hopeless drunk. He grabbed the handle of the knife in his throat and Lara thought, No, don’t do that, don’t pull the knife out. Jesus, don’t pull the knife out.

  But he did—and blood gushed out in a thick stream and Marcus collapsed to the floor, already slick with his blood. He seemed to convulse, his arms and legs like fish out of water, while blood kept pumping out of the ghastly wound in his throat.

  Lara heard another door opening, and she looked up and saw Sarah running out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her.

  “Should we go after her?” she asked Danny, who was crouched next to Marcus, watching the other man flopping in a pool of his own blood. Marcus’s fingers looked like ants dancing in a thick sludge of Hawaiian punch.

  “Let her go,” Danny said. “She’s probably just going to get her daughter.”

  “What if she’s gone to warn them?”

  “They already know. Besides, she’s already committed to us.”

  He was right. There was no way back for Sarah now, and Lara was reminded again of what a hard choice it must have been for the woman to risk everything to help them. To turn her back on a sure thing. She was risking not just her life, but her daughter’s, too.

  She’s a lot braver than I gave her credit for.

  “Danny,” Lara said, and handed him Marcus’s gun.

  Danny took the Smith and Wesson and checked the magazine.

  “What now?” Carly asked, coming over.

  “Karen, Tom, and Marcus are the ringleaders,” Danny said. “Tom is probably dead, and Marcus is dead. That leaves Karen.”

  “What about the others?” Lara asked. “Jake and Sienna. Debra and her son…”

  “Cut off the head of the snake, and the body slithers away. Or something to that effect.”

  “Sounds about right to me,” a voice said behind them.

  They looked back at Will, coming through the same door Marcus had left open. He had his M4A1 slung over his shoulder and was carrying two familiar-looking duffel bags. And more importantly, he was alive, and when he stepped into a pool of moonlight, she saw a fresh cut over the bridge of his nose. He had cracked lips and bruises along his temple and chin.

  “You don’t look so hot, Kemosabe,” Danny said.

  “It’s my disguise,” Will said.

  “I can see it. Lon Chaney, right?”

  Will smirked, then looked down at Marcus’s still body. “What did he do, kill himself so he wouldn’t have to listen to your jokes?”

  Danny grunted. “Those for me?”

  Will dropped the bags on the floor. They clattered loudly. He pulled back the zipper on one, reached in, and pulled out a Remington shotgun that he tossed over to Danny. Will also pulled out a pouch full of shotgun shells.

  “Sweet, you always bring me such nice things,” Danny said. “Where’d you find them?”

  “Tower basement. They’ve been storing things down there for a while now.”

  Danny opened the pouch and pulled out one of the shells. “Silver buckshot?” He held up the shell. It had a white “X” written on the side. “You see something out there besides some backstabbing humans?”

  “It’s night. Better safe than sorry.”

  “Sarah told us there have been twenty-one people before us that she knows of,” Lara said.

  Will pulled out four Motorola radios—theirs—from the bag and handed one each to Danny, Josh, and Carly, keeping the last one for himself. “Where’s Sarah now?”

  “She ran off,” Josh said.

  “Tom?” Danny asked.

  “He’s taking a nap,” Will said. “So how many are left?”

  “Karen.”

  “What about the others?”

  “According to Sarah, we don’t have to worry about them.”

  “Good.”

  “So now what?” Lara asked.

  “Let’s go find Karen,” Will said.

  “Maybe she’s still asleep in her room,” Danny said.

  “Captain Optimism,” Carly smirked.

  Danny grinned back at her. “Just doing my part, babe.”

  Will handed Lara another one of the Remingtons. “How’s the arm?”

  “Itchy,” she sighed.

  He leaned in and kissed her. He caught her off guard, but she quickly got over it and kissed him back. When he pulled away, she touched the bridge of his nose, then ran her fingers across the cuts on his lips and felt the swelling along his cheeks and temple.

  “My hero,” she whispered, smiling at him.

  “You should see the other guy,” he smiled back.

  “Get a fucking room,” Danny said behind them. “Better yet, let’s go get Karen’s. I’m sure that bitch won’t mind.”

  *

  THEY DIDN’T FIND Karen in her room. The door was open, but there was no one inside. There were signs she had left in a hurry, though it was unclear how long ago. Maybe she had sent Marcus over while she snuck out of the hotel.

  Just like a politician.

  As they came out of Karen’s room and back into Hallway A, they spotted Al farther down the hallway, coming out of his own room. He saw them, and for an instant Lara thought he might run back inside.

  They know. They’re all in on it, just like Sarah said. They’ve all been expecting—dreading—the night when their actions come back to haunt them.

  Al stood frozen in the hallway as Will and Danny reflexively swung their rifles in his direction. Lara could imagine how intimidating the sight of them must have been. They were wearing the no-frills version of their urban assault vests, M4A1s in their hands and the Remingtons slung over their backs. Their pouches were brimming with magazines and shotgun shells, and they had those very distinctive cross-knives of theirs on their left hips. Will had found all their gear conveniently stacked near the basement door, not yet tossed in with the rest already down there.

  Lara had the Remington and a Glock in a hip holster, and even with just those two weapons, she was already sweating profusely in the hot hallway.

  “Where’s Karen?” Will asked Al.

  “I don’t know,” Al said, shaking his head. He was wearing Winnie-the-Pooh pajamas, and his big belly poked out noticeably from underneath a yellow nightshirt. “Please don’t kill me. I only did what they told me.”

  The men walked toward Al, their weapons lowered a bit. Lara still expected Al to flee back into his room at any moment, but he didn’t. She didn’t know if it was bravery or stupidity on his part.

  “Please, I only did what they told me,” Al said. His voice sounded like it was about to crack. “I even tried to talk them out of it, but they wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Where are the others?” Will asked, ignoring Al’s protests.


  “I don’t know. In their rooms, I guess.”

  “Go back into your room and stay there.”

  Al nodded anxiously and hurried back inside. Locks snapped into place, then heavy footsteps faded.

  They continued moving up the hallway, toward the lobby.

  Farther up Hallway A, another door opened and Danny and Will swung their weapons up. Debra came out of her room and froze at the sight of them. She had put on jeans and a T-shirt.

  “What’s going on?” Debra asked. “I heard gunshots. Why is everyone armed?”

  “Where’s Karen?” Will asked.

  “I don’t know. She’s not in her room?”

  Lara couldn’t tell if Debra was playing a role or if she really didn’t know.

  Bullshit. She knows.

  “Go back into your room and stay inside,” Will said.

  “What’s going on?” Debra asked again.

  “Go back into your room.”

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on—”

  Danny fired into the wall above her door, the sound of the gunshot thunderous in the narrow hallway. Debra crouched and clung to the open door with both hands. She looked at them, all pretenses of defiance vanished from her face, replaced by terror.

  “Go back in your room and stay inside,” Will said. Calmly, without any menace whatsoever.

  Debra nodded and disappeared into her room without another word.

  They walked past Jake and Sienna’s door. It was closed, but Lara thought she heard movement inside. Maybe someone was even looking through the peephole as they went by.

  “I got two donuts that say the bitch bugged out,” Danny said.

  “Probably,” Will nodded.

  “It’s a big island.”

  “Yup.” Will keyed the radio Velcroed to his assault vest. “Josh, what do you see up there?”

  “Nothing,” Josh said through the radio.

  The others were back in the Tower—Josh, Gaby, and Carly, along with the girls. According to Will, the Tower was the most secure building on the entire island. It was probably the only thing Karen hadn’t lied about. It had strong doors, and there were two extra floors that could be defended.

  “What about the beach?” Will asked.

  “Nothing, no movements at all,” Josh said. “Where are you now?”

  “Hallway A, moving toward the lobby.”

  “Karen?”

  “Nowhere in sight. Keep an eye out and let me know if you see anything on or off the island.”

  “Will do,” Josh said.

  They were coming up to the lobby now.

  Will and Danny flattened against each side of the hallway while Lara stood back. She felt odd being with the two of them. They were so good together, moving without even talking—at times, without even looking at one another. They just knew what they were supposed to do and what the other was going to do in turn.

  Will glanced back at her. “Stay back.”

  She nodded and took a step backward.

  They moved out into the lobby, Will sweeping right, while Danny, slightly behind him, swept left. They covered the large room, constantly in motion behind their weapons. They looked almost poetic, and a part of her envied Danny for being so in sync with Will.

  “Lara,” Will said.

  She hurried out after them.

  The lobby was empty. Someone had opened the windows, and a nice breeze flooded inside. The doors were also open, and the big solar-powered floodlights outside illuminated the black marble patio.

  Danny came out of the kitchen to their right. “She’s gone, but at least she didn’t take the spatula. That would have really sucked.”

  “She couldn’t have gone far,” Lara said. “Where would she go if she didn’t head straight for the beach and one of the boats?”

  Will’s and Danny’s radios squawked, and they heard Josh’s excited voice: “Will, I see her. She’s on the west side of the island.”

  “What’s over there?” Will asked.

  “Nothing, except for the power station.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Halfway to the building. She’s moving slowly, too.” Josh paused for a moment. “Guys, I think she’s wearing one of those hazmat suits. The Level B kind.”

  “She’s got a hell of a head start on us,” Danny said.

  “Is she alone, Josh?” Will asked into the radio.

  “She’s alone,” Josh said.

  “All right. Keep an eye on her.”

  “Will do.”

  “Why the power station?” Lara asked. “And why the hazmat suit? The last time we saw those…”

  She didn’t have to finish. They all remembered Dansby.

  “Let’s find out,” Will said.

  He jogged out of the hotel, Danny right behind him. Lara followed them out onto the patio, then down the steps, and they were racing across the lawn toward the western side of the island, leaving the cobblestone pathway behind quickly.

  Will and Danny were moving fast, and she had to push herself to keep up.

  She heard Josh’s voice through Will’s and Danny’s radios ahead of her: “She’s at the power station fence. I think she has a key, she’s opening the padlock…”

  They had been running for about thirty seconds when the number of lampposts started dwindling, and soon they were moving through darkness, with only the moonlight to guide their way. She glanced down at her watch as she ran, but there was nothing around her wrist.

  Dammit, I liked that watch, too.

  Even without lights, she could see they were racing across open ground now. Tree branches and dirt crunched under her shoes, and the Remington in her hands felt like it had doubled in weight in the last few seconds.

  “She’s inside,” Josh said through the radios.

  Will and Danny hadn’t said a word. They kept running, even gaining speed and starting to slowly pull away from her. She resisted the urge to yell at them to slow down, to let her catch up. She could feel the urgency in their pace, because they knew, just like she did, there was a reason Karen was wearing a hazmat suit. And there had to be a damn good reason why Karen was retreating to the power station, of all places.

  Finally, Lara burst through a wall of trees and saw the power station dead ahead. It was a big, gray brick building, two stories high, surrounded by hurricane fencing and ringed by LED floodlights. It was ugly and squat, poles jutting out from its roof. The building was designed for one purpose—to generate the power that ran the island. There was a reason it was hidden all the way on this side of the island, among the woods. The tourists were never supposed to see how the sausages were made.

  Will and Danny were halfway across the fifty yards that separated the trees and the power station. They were making a beeline toward the open front gate. Karen was nowhere in sight. Lara could just make out a smaller, shack-like building next to the big gray structure where all the humming noise was coming from. The air around her crackled like every particle was heavily charged and ready to burst.

  Will and Danny were at the gate when she saw them come to a sudden stop. For a split second, anyway. Then she heard the almost simultaneous loud booms of shotguns firing, their flames stabbing the night air, searing the area around the gate in hot flashes of orange light.

  She slid to a stop forty yards away from them, and saw Will turning and running back as Danny stayed behind and fired again—and again—into the power station. Danny finally stopped shooting, turned and ran about the same time Will stopped and turned back and began firing back into the darkness—once, twice, three times—as Danny jogged past him, feeding shells into the shotgun as he ran.

  “Go go go!” Danny shouted at her.

  Lara backpedaled, but she couldn’t turn and run. Not yet. She had to see what was happening. What they were shooting at? She couldn’t help herself, curiosity gnawing at every fiber of her being.

  As Danny got closer to her, Lara heard Josh’s voice through Danny’s radio, alarmed, “What’s going
on, guys? I can’t see a damn thing down there. What’s going on? What are you shooting at? Is everyone all right?”

  Danny didn’t answer. He didn’t have time to answer. He was too busy feeding shells into his shotgun and running at the same time. Lara looked past Danny’s running form and saw Will turning and running, feeding shells into his own shotgun as he did.

  Behind him, the darkness seemed to shift and move, as if alive.

  Because it was alive.

  It wasn’t the darkness, or the night. It was something else. Something familiar.

  Ghouls.

  A wave of them, pouring out of the power station gate, moving so fast and crashing so indiscriminately against each other, against everything, that the fence shook and threatened to collapse under their charge. But the fencing didn’t fall fast enough, so they began vaulting it, leaping over each other to get to the other side, until finally there were too many of them clinging to the fence at one time and the whole thing careened forward and buried itself into the ground with a loud, grinding squeal, like nails on a chalkboard.

  She had forgotten how fast they were, how thin and skeletal, and how inhumanly dark their eyes were. It was like staring into the abyss and seeing the blackness staring back.

  Danny was almost on top of her. He grabbed her arm and dragged her with him, shouting, “Go go go!”

  She turned and ran alongside him. “What about Will?”

  “Keep going!”

  Danny stopped and turned around just as Will flashed past him.

  Will reached for her arm, found her wrist, and pulled her along with him, even as she heard Danny’s shotgun firing behind them.

  Guys, I’m not a baton, she thought to herself, but her thoughts were interrupted by Danny’s shotgun blasts.

  Once, twice, three shots.

  Then four, five, six, and seven shots.

  Seven shots. The Remingtons have a limit of seven shots.

  Will released her hand and stopped and turned.

  She looked back and saw Danny coming, passing Will, who had begun firing back at the moving, surging wall of ghouls, each one of his blasts sending a wave of flaming death that shredded the creatures. They were still far off, the closest one thirty yards away, but they were close enough she could see the silver buckshot ripping into them, searing flesh—or what little they had left—from bone. They fell in a row, but it didn’t matter, because one, two—a dozen—were soon leaping over the fallen ones, coming in a relentless deluge across the open ground.

 

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