“Just keep goin’ straight. This road merges onto the I-10,” Lucas said when he noticed John scrutinizing the signs.
For a while, we couldn’t see anything past the interstate noise barriers. Tops of houses every now and again, but mostly just cement. Anytime there was an overpass the road got more congested. There were multiple lanes, yet we still had to squeeze the truck around the blockage.
John took us through a rather small opening. My teeth clenched as the sound of scraping metal reached my ears. The passenger mirror flew off, but John kept going until we were clear of the traffic jam.
After another ten minutes, I asked, “Are we still in New Orleans?”
“The very west part of it. Should be comin’ up to the airport soon,” Lucas said.
He was right. First there were signs telling us the airport was near, then we spotted the telltale air-traffic control towers in the distance on our left.
“Ho-ly shit,” John said absently. He slowed the truck to a crawl.
I pushed myself up in the seat and craned my neck to see what he was looking at out his window. Planted face-first into the ground were the remnants of a huge passenger plane. It had missed the runway by a wide birth. Debris was everywhere; it even looked like it had reached the interstate. Half-burned seats and suitcases littered the area.
“John!” Sheri screamed.
John slammed on the breaks. We came to a stop a foot away from the back of another vehicle. Everyone sat still for a second. At the speed he had been going, we wouldn’t have damaged the truck much, but every little bit counted.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” John said sheepishly.
We had all been gawking, so no one could blame him.
“Looks like we can’t squeeze through this one,” Lucas said. “We need to clear a path.”
Chapter 27
We cautiously got out of the truck. I left my AR15 inside, but removed my metal bat. Sheri immediately jumped out and stabbed a roaming infected in the head. John was in the process of unsheathing the hunting knife I had returned to him when the dead infected hit the ground.
“Nice one,” Ethan said.
Sheri gave him a grim smile at the compliment. Perhaps she wouldn’t be a wildcard after all. We hesitantly approached the traffic jam. It was about three vehicles deep, but none looked to have crashed into anything other than the back of the vehicle in front of it. The first cars were empty, with their doors wide open. The next set of cars were worse for wear. Windshields were shattered and bloodied.
Sheri gasped when we peered into an old Jeep. The driver’s head was sticking out of the windshield, glass embedded deep in the skin and completely shredded to the bone around the jawline. Grime and blood stained the rest of the glass. Then we found the reason for the crash.
The foremost vehicles had crashed straight into a section of the plane wing. The metal wing must have flown off and was currently imbedded in the interstate sticking straight up. As I looked up, I could see that the debris piece was about a foot taller than me.
“It cut the damn car in half!” Rose said, her finger pointing toward the back half of an old Toyota pressed up against the wing—the front half of the car nowhere to be seen.
“How are we going to get past this?” I asked.
The wing had hit the interstate and sliced it all the way to the other side. There was a deep path leading to where the wing had finally stopped. As I tested it with my foot, the cement started to crumble and fall into the void.
Lucas reached into the truck and pulled out the map. Everyone hurried over to take a look except for me. I continued to test out the broken path. Cement and asphalt chunks crunched under my feet every time I tried to move closer. Something yellow caught my eye and I looked to the left of my foot. It was the cup part of the oxygen mask found in planes. A shiver ran up my spine. I’d never had a problem with flying before, but now I knew I forever would. Not that planes would be up and running anytime soon—or possibly ever.
The familiar rasping of infected dragged my attention from the cut in the road to looking past it. It didn’t sound like just one or two. I went on my tiptoes and tried to look around the wing, but only spotted the tops of abandoned vehicles. A hand was shoved at me, then disappeared as the infected fell through the wide path the plane wing had created. I watched it drop with my mouth open.
There was no way we were getting past something wide enough to swallow a body, not to mention the rasping hadn’t stopped. I was willing to bet there were a lot more infected where that one had come from waiting for us on the other side. This was a dead end.
“Bailey, come one,” John said.
They were already loaded back in the truck. I ran over and scrambled back into the middle, John following in behind me. He reversed until he could swing the truck around to face the way we had just come from. I looked at him.
“Detour,” he said.
We had to backtrack a bit until we came to a turnoff that led us down a non-interstate road. It eventually connected to a highway that Lucas reassured us would lead back to the I-10—eventually.
It felt like we had just taken a giant ride around the airport. That stupid blockage had cost us gas and time. Once we got back to the I-10 via a major overpass, we were back on the trail again. It was almost immediate, the scene change. No longer were we in the city. Wetlands surrounded us. I could see a huge body of water off to my right reflecting the sunlight back at us. Then there were the swamps.
I crinkled my nose as we passed by. The smell reminded me of a wet dog, damp and stinky. Aside from the smell, it was a cool sight to see. Thick, dense trees seemed to float on the water. Green sludge drifted along the top of the water with the occasional tree root sticking out. Something moved under the water, causing the green muck to shift and sway. I swallowed.
“Lots of wildlife in there,” Lucas said, more than likely having seen the same thing I had just witnessed.
“Alligators?” I asked.
Lucas grinned at my hesitant tone. “Could be, or wild hogs. They like to roll around in the muck.”
I would be staying clear of swamps. Since we had stuck to mostly the city and the surrounding towns, I hadn’t actually seen a genuine Louisiana swamp until now. Even at Ethan’s cabin there hadn’t been any nearby.
We continued mostly north along the interstate. For a while there was nothing but land, but then we could see smaller towns clustered off of the road.
“Prairieville should be comin’ up soon,” Lucas said.
He peered out the passenger’s window, his nose practically pressed to the glass.
“There!” Leo said.
He was looking out the same side as Lucas, but spotted the interstate sign first. As we got closer to the exit, the inside of the cab got even more quiet. There was a giant, red hand with an eye in the middle spray-painted over the Prairieville turnoff sign. They should have just used a hand giving us the middle finger—it would’ve had the same effect.
John brought the truck down the turnoff onto another road. We didn’t immediately arrive in the town, we had to keep driving to get to it. We came to another non-interstate highway before we saw the ‘Welcome to Prairieville’ sign, also graffitied with the ominous symbol. A warning.
“Okay, now which way do I go?” John asked Lucas.
“Keep goin’ straight,” Lucas answered.
We could have started to play I-Spy with all the symbols plastered around town. It felt like a dog marking their territory.
“I don’t see any scouts or anythin’,” John said.
“They don’t waste manpower on that. They think the markin’s are good enough to keep people away,” Lucas said. “But just in case, take a left here.”
John obliged and we turned off of the main road we were on to a one-way street. Lucas led us down some more deserted streets. The further we went, the more residential everything became.
“You telling us their hideout is in the ‘burbs?” I asked incredulously.
&nbs
p; Lucas nodded. “In the newer area, to boot.”
There seemed to be an overkill of schools. I had noticed them when we first entered the town limits. Surely they didn’t used to have a population that big that they could support that many schools, did they? Maybe this town took education very seriously, which wasn’t a bad thing; it just seemed unnecessary. In the town I grew up in, there’d been only three elementary schools to choose from—the third one having been built long after my K-9 days.
We passed by older, but well-maintained houses. The few vehicles parked outside weren’t old beaters, but they weren’t expensive either. This seemed to be a middle-class neighborhood. My dad always said you couldn’t judge a person by their car because for all you knew, that person driving around in a fancy BMW could be taking fifteen years to pay it off while flipping burgers at a fast-food restaurant. I always thought he’d just said that to make himself feel better about driving a Subaru. For all I knew, this was the rich part of town.
That thought was turned on its head when Lucas directed us down another road. Instantly the word estates popped into my head. Like most towns in North America, there was clearly a line divide of wealth. Okay, this was the rich part of town. The houses were huge. Most were sporting three car garages, white columns, and immaculate stone fronts with castle-like peaks. They really liked the bricked-front look here.
“Stop here,” Lucas instructed. “The house they use is just around the next block. We don’t want ‘em to know we’re here.”
John slowed and parked the truck off to the side of the road. We got out of the vehicle quietly. I shouldered my AR15 and gripped the handle of my bat tight as it fell to my side. Everyone else was saddling up as well. It looked like we were preparing to go to war, which in a way, we were. They destroyed Hargrove, killed innocents and took one—possibly more—of us prisoner. In my book, they had declared war and if it was a war they wanted, then a war they would get.
Chapter 28
Lucas led our silent group across the lawns of the massive houses. No doubt they were once manicured; now they were full of uneven grass and rotting foliage. Lucas held up his hand as we approached the side of the house on the corner. The next street was where the mercenaries would be. The blood in my veins started to pump faster and faster. I couldn’t tell if I was anxious or excited. My nervous system was fried by this point.
Lucas peeked around the corner. I heard him suck in a breath. He turned back to us, his brows furrowed, and then he took another look.
“…the hell?” he muttered.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t see anyone,” Lucas said.
He turned back to us again and crouched down, motioning for us to do the same.
“I’m goin’ to go scout it out by myself. If it’s clear, I’ll wave you over,” he said.
“No way!” Rose hissed. “How do we know you won’t just go runnin’ back to ‘em?”
Lucas scowled. “I want ‘em dead as much as you do.”
“You could be leadin’ us into a trap. We ain’t lettin’ you go up there yourself,” Rose said.
She had a point.
John held up his hands. “We’ll split up. Lucas, Bailey, and I will go check it out. The rest of you stay here. If somethin’ is up, I’ll pop off a round and you’ll know to come runnin’.”
“We need to stay out of sight; that’s why less is better,” Lucas said, his arm jerking down with his harsh exclamation.
“Son, I ain’t stupid. You’re not goin’ in there alone,” John said.
John and Lucas stared each other down and I swallowed at the tension. They better not start fighting. Sheri hitched in a breath and extended her arm, grabbing our attention. She was pointing at an infected shambling toward us. It bumped into the curb, barely catching itself. No one moved. We let the thing get closer to us, to the point where it was on the same lawn as us, and then Rose and I shot out. I tripped the thing, swiping out with my foot. It collapsed to the ground and I stuck my boot-clad foot on its chest. Rose then brought her knife down on the infected’s head while it struggled to free itself from under my hold.
We returned to the group huddle, leaving the dead infected where it had fallen. Lucas frowned.
“There’s no way they would have let a dead one get that close to the compound. Usually they had one or two guys patrollin’ the immediate grounds at all times,” Lucas said, then added, “plus it’s too damn quiet.”
“What do you mean?” John asked.
“There was always loud music goin’ or shots goin’ off. Somethin’ ain’t right.” Lucas tugged at his collar.
“You think they abandoned it?” I mused out loud.
“Only one way to find out,” John said.
He motioned for Lucas to lead the way. Lucas no longer looked mad; instead he looked concerned. That made my pulse raise—this time I knew it was my nerves. Something had spooked Lucas.
“If you hear anythin’, you come runnin’, all right?” John said to the others.
They nodded. Ethan looked a little angry that he hadn’t been selected, but he didn’t dare argue with John.
Crouched low, we crossed the front of the lawn into the next one. I kept my head low, the ground becoming a blur of green. Lucas stilled so we stopped behind him, and then he pointed to the largest house yet. It made the other mansions look tiny. No wonder they had chosen that one. It looked like it could house fifty people. There was a tall privacy fence surrounding the property and a wide-open iron gate at the front.
Inside, there were fallen bodies and a couple roaming infected. One still had an automatic weapon attached that was dragging behind it via a strap. Every time the weapon hit a stone or something to make a sound, the infected would stop and whirl around to look for the source of the noise.
“Those bodies belong to your friends?” John asked.
Lucas swallowed, but didn’t answer. He entered the gate and we were forced to follow. The infected came straight for us. I raised my bat and John took out his hunting knife. There would be no gunfire until absolutely necessary. I met the infected that was dragging the automatic weapon halfway. My metal bat whistled in the air as I swung—hard. It connected with the infected’s skull and it crumpled to the ground. I brought the bat down again and it stopped moving.
John reached down and yanked off the rifle it was dragging. The outside looked scratched up, but John was able to eject the magazine. He flashed me the top. There were still bullets inside. John pocketed the magazine and gently placed the rifle back on the ground.
We killed off the rest of the infected as we made our way up the sprawling driveway. There was even a damn fountain in the middle. It wasn’t spraying any water, but it still looked impressive—except for the dead body floating face-first in the murky water.
Lucas stopped to turn over the body. As he did, some pinkish water splashed onto the cement driveway.
“Knew ‘im?” John asked.
“He wasn’t a mercenary,” Lucas said.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“The mercenaries aren’t the only group out there,” Lucas said, which answered nothing.
“Meaning?” I prompted.
“They were kind of in a gang war.”
John and I looked at each other. “What the hell does that mean?” John asked.
“I’m willin’ to bet the other crew got to ‘em; that’s why it’s so quiet in here. They’re all dead like the ones out here,” Lucas said.
“How big is the other gang?” John asked.
“Not near as big …” Lucas trailed off, then spoke to himself. “How’d they do it?”
John didn’t look pleased with the news. As if the mercenaries weren’t enough of a menacing presence, now we had to worry about another gang? Why the hell did people care about being the fucking head honcho? There were so many more important things to worry about! At least the other gang had done our work for us.
My shoulders slumped. If they were all dead, how we
re we going to find the other compounds? I started to panic as a more frightening thought streaked across my mind.
“Do you think Zoe is in there?” I asked, my voice thick.
“I highly doubt it,” Lucas said. “Like I said, this wasn’t the location for that side of their operation.”
“We’ll check inside just to be sure,” John said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
Lucas pushed open the ornate front door. No creaking or anything. Right off the bat, we spotted dead bodies strewn around the entrance. The air was heavy with the scent of rot and copper. Blood coated the white tiles, leaking in between the grout, forming a series of red lines. Bullet holes and arterial spray marred the paint job. Broken decorative pieces lay mixed among the bodies. I almost slipped on a broken vase as we walked among the bodies.
We canvassed the carnage-filled first floor. No one had been left alive. I noticed that there wasn’t one woman among the mix. I highly doubted any females had stuck with the mercenaries willingly. Lucas pointed to a couple of the bodies, saying they weren’t part of the mercenary crew. It looked like they had invaded the place. Guns were still next to their fallen owners, leading me to believe that they hadn’t attacked for resources. They just wanted to eliminate. We moved onto the upper floor when we finished our loop. The only sounds we could hear were our own breathing and footsteps. This place was a tomb.
The upstairs was filled with dead as well. Lucas pushed open one of the doors to reveal a large office. A huge wooden desk sat in the middle with papers and maps scattered on and around it. There was a large map nailed to the wall in a crude manner. We walked up to it to see a bunch of red circles and pins.
“Are these all the compounds?” I asked, scanning the map.
“Compounds and drop-off zones,” Lucas said.
This Would Be Paradise (Book 3) Page 19