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

by Sam Sisavath

  “Two boats,” Danny said. “They’re moving down the inlet. Fast. They should be coming into your view…now.”

  Two fast-moving boats blasted out of the mouth of the inlet, multiple silhouetted figures in each craft. Just as fast as they appeared, they were gone, shooting up the lake toward Song Island as fast as their powerful outboard motors could carry them. At that rate, it wouldn’t be long before they arrived at the island.

  “What do you see?” Will asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” Danny said. “They’re still too far away. All I see right now are stick figures on two boats coming toward us at full speed. I don’t think they’re following boating regulations, either. Someone call the Game Wardens.”

  Then Danny went quiet.

  Will waited, listening to the loud screams of motors racing across the lake.

  After a while, Will said, “Danny, what do you see?”

  “Four to a boat,” Danny said. “They’re definitely coming full-bore. Looks like you were right to skirt the house on your approach. I told Carly you weren’t nearly as dumb as you look.”

  “Good to know. What are you dealing with?”

  “Assault rifles. A pair of AK-47s. M4s. The good stuff.”

  “Can you take them?”

  Will saw Josh looking worriedly back at him again, but the kid somehow managed to restrain himself from blurting something out.

  “Do fish shit in the lake?” Danny asked.

  “I don’t know,” Will said, playing along. “Do they?”

  “Last time I checked. Anyway, you should get to the marina as fast as you can. It should be relatively clear at the moment. Or clear-ish.”

  “We’re there now.”

  Will aimed the Carver toward shore until the starboard side was pressing up against the dirt and flicking at branches sticking out of the ground. Will let the boat drift for a bit before they finally reached an area where he could drive the boat up onto the muddy beach.

  He instantly cut the trolling motor and hopped out of the boat, landing in a hard patch of dirt and mud, with the anchor rope in hand. He saw a tree trunk nearby and wrapped the rope around it, then pulled it tight before dragging the boat farther up until he was satisfied it wouldn’t drift off on its own.

  Josh stumbled out after him, cradling the Remington like it was a precious baby. Will resisted the urge to tell the kid to sling the weapon instead. The last thing he needed was for Josh to trip and accidentally blow his own head off. Besides alerting whoever was still at the house, it was going to cost him valuable manpower. Neither one of those things were acceptable losses at the moment.

  Will poked his head above the ridgeline and took inventory of their position. The tall, uncut grass was both an ally and a hindrance. On the one hand, it kept him hidden, but it was hard to see through it. Fortunately the sun had baked enough of the grass that it kept the height reasonably in check.

  He was surprised to see they weren’t that far from the marina. Will could make out the high-raised roof of the gazebo about 200 meters to his left. And slightly behind that was the back of the garage. He did the math in his head and concluded that carrying the supplies over the distance was going to involve a lot of sweating and grunting, but it was doable.

  Will was still gauging the distances when he heard gunfire from Song Island. He knew instantly it was Danny’s M4A1. He waited to hear return fire, but instead he heard the M4A1 fire a second, then a third time.

  Josh crouched silently next to Will near the ridge as they heard loud returning fire from multiple weapons. There was a volley, shattering the calm air in a loud, reckless downpour. Then Will heard three more shots. The M4A1 again. Calm and unhurried shots.

  Then there was silence.

  “What happened?” Josh asked, looking over at Will.

  “I don’t know,” Will said.

  His right ear clicked and he heard Danny’s voice: “They’re heading back to you now, tails stuck firmly between what are no doubt very wobbly legs. Looked like weekend warriors to me. I might have clipped two. Definitely got one of the motors.”

  “Good work.”

  “Have Tower, will snipe. Good luck.”

  “Roger that.” Will looked over at Josh. “They’re fine. You ready?”

  Josh shook his head, but said, “Yeah, okay, sure.”

  “You’ll do fine. Let’s go.”

  He climbed up first and raced across the flat ground, thankful there were enough tall blades of grass to hide most of him, if not the top of his head. He stopped ten meters from the ridge and looked back and saw Josh following, hunkered down in that same uncomfortable pose he’d had back in the boat. At least he was low to the ground, and anyone looking from the house probably couldn’t see him.

  Probably.

  Will gave him a nod, hoping to give the kid some confidence. It might have worked, or it might not have. It was hard to read anything beyond Josh’s absolutely terrified expression.

  Will looked forward and started moving through the grass again. He could see the garage and gazebo coming up, still a good 280 meters away, give or take.

  But then something else caught his eye, and he went into a crouch. Josh, not anticipating the sudden stop, bumped into him from behind. Will grunted a bit as the barrel of the Remington Josh was carrying dug into his back.

  “Sorry,” Josh said.

  “You’re doing good,” Will lied.

  He looked across the field and to his left at a Jeep buried in the ditch along the road. It was parked about forty-five meters from the marina, give or take, and Will could make out three figures crouched next to the vehicle, looking in the direction of the house. Two of them had binoculars.

  Will slipped the M4A1 from his shoulder. He lifted the rifle and looked through the sight. He was still too far to make out any details, but there was enough for him to know two of the three were men, the third a woman. The biggest one was up front, and Will set the red dot against the side of the man’s head.

  It was a fine target. Big and juicy and oblivious, just the way he liked it.

  CHAPTER 32

  LARA

  LARA HID AMONG the trees that lined the beach, one hand holding the radio, the other gripping the Benelli shotgun so tightly that her fingers were white. She watched them coming from a distance. They had been coming for a while, the sounds of their loud boat motors reaching the island well before they did.

  They looked like toy boats from this distance, and she could see men clinging to the sides—the starboard, or port, or whatever they called those sections. The boats were moving so fast they looked like they were about to take off into the sky at any second, the front half literally hopping over the surface of the lake only to smash back down again, then going right back up. She was amazed none of the men had been tossed into the water already.

  She heard Will and Danny talking back and forth on the radio. She fought the urge to butt in, reminding herself this was what they did—they cracked jokes in the middle of a crisis. She had learned a long time ago to give them their space.

  Finally, the boats were close enough Lara could actually see with the naked eye that the men onboard were coming fully armed. That was when she heard the crack of Danny’s rifle, and the boats seemed to slow down all of a sudden.

  Danny shot again, then a third time.

  Warning shots. If Danny wanted to hit them, he would have hit them. Of course, the men on the boats didn’t know that, and they started firing back. Or firing, anyway, but not necessarily back at anything, especially Danny, high up in the Tower across the island.

  Will would never waste bullets like that.

  Then Danny shot again, and one of the men in the first boat doubled over and grabbed his leg. A second shot, and another man doubled over in the second boat. Danny’s third and final shot sent black smoke billowing from the first boat’s motor.

  Damn, he’s good.

  She knew full well Danny could have killed everyone on the boats if he wanted to, e
specially with that new scope mounted on his rifle. These men were getting a second chance, and the irony was that they didn’t even know it. But they did get the hint that their attack wasn’t going well and began to turn around.

  Lara watched the boats heading back to the marina.

  Well, at least they’re not total idiots.

  *

  CARLY WAS WAITING for her at the hotel patio. They had both changed clothes at least three times today.

  Clearing out the bones from the hotel grounds was easier than cleaning out the hotel hallways. Not all of the ghouls had been exposed to sunlight, and they were forced to wear respirator masks that Sarah brought out from a supply closet just to keep down what little breakfast they had managed earlier in the morning.

  Dragging the twisted, pruned, and blackened bodies into the sunlight and watching them turn to fine white mist was the kind of experience Lara didn’t think she would ever forget. It was both fascinating and soul-destroying, and she remembered thinking, This is what the human race has become. Nothing more than dust in the wind.

  Scrubbing the blood and flesh from the hotel hallways and lobby had taken even more effort. By the time they had wiped down the tiles with bleach and scraped the disgusting remains of dead ghouls from the walls, she wasn’t sure if she could even smell anymore. They decided to leave all the bullet holes for Will and Danny to deal with later, since the two men were responsible for most of them in the first place.

  They hadn’t decided what to do with the bones yet. Burying them was one option. The other was to throw them into the lake. Lara preferred the second option. An ocean of bones sounded better than bones buried in their backyard. Bones in the lake might drift away eventually, whereas burying them would always mean living right next to a graveyard. The human bone, depending on the condition, could last for thousands of years in the ground before it dissolved completely. She wasn’t prepared to live with that kind of timetable.

  “Eight guys?” Carly said, as Lara climbed up the front steps of the patio.

  Carly handed her a bottle of cold water. Lara took it gratefully and drained it. She hadn’t realized how much she missed something as simple as a cold bottle of water until she finally tasted it again yesterday.

  “Eight guys, give or take,” Lara said.

  “Are we sure they weren’t just survivors responding to the message? Like us?”

  “They didn’t look very friendly.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter now. How many did Danny kill?”

  “He wounded two.”

  “Lucky them. He’s a pretty good shot.”

  Lara sniffed the air. The smell of fried fish was strong, and thankfully horned in on the still-lingering acidic aroma of evaporated dead ghouls still clinging to parts of the island. “Are you frying fish?”

  “I’m trying to overwhelm this morning’s disgusting smell in fish, yeah. Al left plenty in the freezer.”

  “No wonder I smell something burning.”

  Carly made a face. “It’s all part of my master plan to convince Sarah to take over the kitchen.”

  “Are you two getting along now?”

  “I guess,” Carly said, and shrugged. “I should probably apologize for trying to devour her soul last night.”

  “I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m still working up the courage to actually do it.”

  Lara looked around. “Have you seen Sienna?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I haven’t seen her since this morning.”

  Sienna had helped with the bones that morning. She had worked quietly, almost robotically, and the half-dozen times Lara had stopped to check on her, the other woman had simply smiled back mutely. Once, she had nodded, but that was it.

  “She’ll come around,” Carly said. “We all have to adapt. What’s that saying you and Will came up with? Adapt or perish?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That should be our motto from now on. We should make a big banner and hang it right there—” she made an imaginary banner with her hands “—in big bold letters: ‘Adapt Or Perish.’”

  “Capital letters?”

  “Of course. Gotta be capital letters. Maybe different colors, too.”

  “Now you’re just being silly.”

  Carly laughed. “We could get the girls to help.”

  They headed back into the hotel lobby. The AC was turned off, and it was hot again, even with the windows and doors open all night and this morning to help cleanse the place of the smell of dead ghouls.

  Sarah told them the AC was never something Karen and the others kept on at all times. All the luxuries they were shown yesterday were to impress them. Them, and everyone who had come before them, whose clothes, weapons, and other personal belongings were buried in the unfinished sections of the hotel and in the Tower’s basement. Even Kyle’s games weren’t something he was normally allowed.

  No wonder the kid could barely pull himself away from them. He only got to play them when one of us showed up.

  “God, I miss air conditioning,” Carly sighed. “When did Will say we can turn it back on?”

  “When he’s sure there’s enough juice in the generators to power the island.”

  “That doesn’t sound very hopeful.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Ugh.”

  They were halfway across the lobby when Lara’s radio squawked and Will’s voice came through: “Heads up. I just made contact with Blaine.”

  “He’s still alive?” Danny asked through the radio. “Talk about beating the odds. That guy just refuses to die.”

  Lara keyed her radio. “Will, what about Sandra?”

  “That’s a negative on Sandra,” Will said. “They made it into Beaumont while we were there yesterday morning, but they got into trouble with some collaborators. Probably the same ones Gaby shot. Sandra died while they were trying to escape.”

  “Tell him I’m sorry,” Lara said.

  She had never met the woman, but she had been looking forward to it ever since meeting Blaine. She remembered when they had found him, lying half-dead on the road with three bullets in him. He was still alive because of Sandra. Any woman special enough to make a man give death the middle finger had to be pretty special.

  Now she would never know, and a part of her felt sad at the missed opportunity.

  “I will,” Will said.

  “Back to the matter at hand,” Danny said. “Are we making silver bullets tonight or what?”

  “We’ll be heading back as soon as we can,” Will answered. “If all goes well, we’ll be back within the hour.”

  “See you then,” Lara said into the radio.

  “Later, alligator,” Danny added.

  *

  IT WAS 2:12 P.M. and the sun had settled into the sky when Lara went back to the Tower, where Danny and Sarah were putting up a new door to replace the one the ghouls had obliterated the night before. It was essentially two doors from two unused rooms in the hotel, nailed together into one big slab of thick, dull wood. It was overly heavy (which was the point) and took a lot of grunting and grimacing to carry over from the hotel where Danny had put it together.

  Lara helped them raise the door into position, then held it in place with Sarah while Danny grabbed an electric drill and fired large screws through makeshift hinges into the concrete wall one by one. By the time he was done, they were out of breath and their clothes were drenched in sweat—again.

  The door didn’t look like much. In fact, it was ugly, but it could open and close and was locked in place with an iron bar that fell into a latch drilled into the side. More importantly, it would not fall as easily as the last door. They had gotten by last night thanks to the Tower’s rather oddball design, but Will and Danny wanted to make sure the ghouls never made it inside next time.

  When they were done, Lara said, “Anyone seen Sienna?”

  “She was in the hotel the last time I saw her,” Sarah said. “About thirty minutes
ago.”

  “What was she doing?”

  “I don’t know. She was in her room.”

  “She’ll come around,” Danny said.

  Lara left the two of them to finish up. She headed up to the second floor, where they kept a couple of crates with emergency supplies, including one with clothes. She grabbed a new undershirt and pulled it on, tossing her drenched one into a waste basket. Laundry had become unnecessary with clothes lying around everywhere, though she thought they might have to revisit that now that they were going to be staying on the island.

  The idea made her smile. The island could become a home, something they hadn’t had since Harold Campbell’s facility. This was what she had wanted when they had set off in search of Song Island months ago. Even after the horrors of last night, the very real possibility of having a place to call home made her almost giddy.

  She traveled up to the third floor, where Gaby stood watch along the windows. The teenager was moving from window to window, peering through binoculars for about thirty seconds at each spot. She looked the part of a sentry, and Lara understood why Will was so high on her.

  “Anything?” Lara asked.

  “Nothing,” Gaby said.

  “Can you see Will and Josh?”

  “If by ‘see’ you mean noticed two tiny specks in the distance that could very well be Will and Josh—or bird poop—then yes.”

  Lara walked to the south window, picked up another pair of binoculars hanging from a hook, and looked through them. She could see the shoreline in the distance, along with the house and marina. The gazebo, the tallest structure in the marina, blinked under the glare of sunlight. She made out the garage, with its aluminum rooftop, and the black asphalt parking lot with the dozen or so vehicles inside, including the Ridgeline and Frontier they had parked there yesterday.

  “They went into the garage about ten minutes ago,” Gaby said. “I haven’t seen them come out yet.”

  “Is Blaine with them?”

  “I can’t be sure, but I saw five dots moving around out there at one point.”

  “Anything from the house?”

  “I saw a couple of them walking around the front yard. Do we know who they are yet?”