The Horns of Avalon (Purge of Babylon, Book 8)

by Sam Sisavath

  She watched him and saw him grimacing as he stood up on slightly unsteady legs. Gaby took a lot of satisfaction in knowing that she had done that—gave him a lingering pain he wasn’t going to get rid of anytime soon.

  “No one’s going anywhere,” he said. “We’re all going to camp out here until nightfall.”

  “Maybe you won’t have a choice.”

  “Cute. You think a couple of shooters are going to force us out?” He shook his head. “No can do, sweetheart. The bosses would have our heads if we abandoned this place. No, it’s going to take more than what they got out there right now to send us packing.”

  “They don’t need more than a couple of guys to do that. Are you forgetting what they did outside of Larkin?”

  “Oh, I remember. But it’s pretty obvious they don’t have a lot of planes. Or if they do have more than what they’ve shown so far, not a lot of pilots. They’re picking their targets, hitting some of the denser towns. It’s a real bloodbath out there, and the bosses are pissed. I didn’t know how much until they brain-jacked into me. They are really pissed.”

  “You’re scared of them,” she said. It wasn’t a question. “The ghouls. You’re terrified of them.”

  “Of course I am,” Mason said, staring back at her. “I’d be fucking crazy not to. And after last night, I’d think you would be, too.”

  * * *

  Where are you, Danny?

  He had to be either in the lobby or in the room next to them, because there wasn’t anywhere else to be inside the building. Gallant First Bank was designed to serve a limited client pool, and there was no need for a larger space. So where were they keeping Danny? Were they separating them on purpose?

  Without Danny to talk to, and with Mason gone, Gaby was left to watch Nate’s sleeping form. He was alive, and that meant everything to her, even if she couldn’t stop thinking about what Mason had said.

  “They wanted to ‘play’ with your boyfriend last night while they were waiting for him to show up.”

  “Him?” Who was the “him” Mason was referring to? And why were the blue-eyed ghouls waiting for “him?”

  Mason had closed the door behind him, but if she pressed her ear against the wall she could just barely make out voices coming from the hallway. She had no trouble hearing the echoes of shooting outside the building, though. They remained sporadic, a series of attacks and returned volleys, followed by long periods of silence. Then they would start all over again, almost as if whoever was exchanging fire out there were constantly on the move. That was the only thing to explain why the shooting seemed to be coming from different directions every time she heard a new exchange.

  “They’re like cockroaches, showing up wherever you least expect them,” Mason had said, referring to Mercer’s kill teams that were running around Texas at the moment, making life miserable for the collaborators. She had no doubt whatsoever they weren’t here to rescue her, Nate, or Danny, so why were they attacking a town like Gallant at all? There was nothing here that was of any value. No collaborator civilians to murder or resources to ruin.

  Or maybe it was even simpler than that. Maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe it really was as basic as the continued presence of Mason and the others drawing them in like, as Mason had said, moths to the flame. They were, after all, called “kill teams.” And their goal right now was to kill collaborators.

  Great. Trapped between two groups of psychos. This road trip just keeps getting better and better.

  She sighed and took a moment to gather her thoughts before finally deciding there was nothing she could do about what was happening out there. Instead of wasting more time on a problem that was beyond her control, she gave up and scooted across the room until she was sitting next to Nate. Thankfully the floor was mostly devoid of debris or anything to get in her way as she clumsily moved sideways, doing her best not to trip over her own bound legs and relying on the wall behind her as much as possible.

  Nate was unconscious, but he was breathing normally, which was a very good sign. Just to be sure, she unzipped his sleeping bag to check his wound. Whoever had tended to him since last night had done a very good job; the bandages she and Danny had wrapped around Nate had been replaced, and very recently, from the looks of it. He also wasn’t quite as pale as he had been yesterday. If anything, Nate’s physical appearance looked better and color had returned to his cheeks and lips.

  The sleeping bag kept Nate (mostly) insulated from the cold that had gathered inside the room. She still had her own thermal clothing on underneath her jacket and boots, which was the only thing keeping her from trembling against the chill at the moment.

  With the door closed, it was darker now than it had been when she first woke up. She leaned her head against the wall and listened to a new round of automatic gunfire. It had started up again a few minutes ago and hadn’t quieted like the last few times. She couldn’t quite make out if they were getting closer, though it sounded as if they were.

  “They’re not here to rescue you, in case you were wondering,” Mason had said.

  She didn’t doubt that whatsoever. Mercer’s men had their own agenda. A bloody one. She had seen that for herself outside of Larkin and had witnessed more of it as they picked their way south from Starch. Even now, as she closed her eyes, she could still smell the blood and smoke from T29. It had been a real town once upon a time, with a real name, but it was just T29 now. Or it had just been T29, because it wasn’t much of anything anymore…

  She must have been more sluggish and tired from last night than she realized, because by the time she snapped her eyes open to the sound of approaching footsteps, the door was already opening and—

  Danny entered the room with a collaborator in a black uniform walking behind him.

  Danny saw her and smiled. “Hey, kid.”

  “Hey, Danny,” she said, and gave him a half-smile back. It was all she could muster.

  He started to sit down next to her when the soldier said, “Not there.”

  “You said I could sit anywhere,” Danny said.

  “When did I say that?” the man asked. He was in his thirties, with brown hair. The name stenciled across his name tag read: Lopez.

  “On the way over here.”

  “Bullshit. Sit across the room away from them.”

  Danny got back up, walked across the room, and sat down next to the big desk. “Don’t be like that, Lopez. I thought we were becoming friends.”

  “That’s what happens when you assume,” Lopez grinned.

  “What?”

  “What?” Lopez repeated.

  “What happens when you assume?”

  “You know.”

  “I don’t,” Danny said, looking completely serious.

  “Fuck off,” Lopez said, stepping back through the door and closing it behind him.

  She waited to hear the collaborator walking away, but he didn’t, which probably meant Lopez had taken up a guard position outside their door. Neither office had locks anymore, but the carbine in Lopez’s hands solved that problem.

  “How’s the Natester?” Danny asked.

  “He’s better,” she said. “Where were you?”

  “In the lobby. They had some questions for me.”

  “About what?”

  “This, that, everything in between.” He cocked his head when they both heard the sharp crack! of a rifle shot outside the walls. “And some of that, too.”

  “Mercer’s men?”

  “Yup. They wanted to make sure I didn’t know anything about it. I told them maybe.”

  “But you don’t.”

  “Yeah, but they don’t have to know that. Also, I wanted to see how far they’d push with the questioning.”

  “How far did they push?”

  “Not very, as you can see by my still-pretty face.”

  “Ah.”

  “I got the sense they were afraid to tune me up. At least, ol’ Danzinger was.”

  “Danzinger?”

  �
�The guy asking the questions. The leader of the pack, from the looks of it. His name sounds like a ’70s rock band front man, but the guy looks like an accountant.”

  “I thought Mason was the leader.”

  “He’s more like a floating consultant. Looks like Danzinger’s team just got saddled with him.”

  “Mason told me he was connected to them. The blue-eyed ghouls. That that was how they always knew where we were. How they tracked us from Starch. Because he told them.”

  “‘Told them?’”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “Hunh,” Danny said.

  “I’m not sure if I believe him. Do you?”

  “Will…” Danny started, but didn’t finish.

  “What about Will?” she pressed.

  “Kate used to visit him all the time. In his dreams. They would talk, hold whole conversations. The way he put it, the whole thing was beyond freaky. I’m glad I never slept with that bitch.”

  “Is that how it works? You have to sleep with them to become—I don’t know the word—connected, I guess, to them?”

  “Hey, nothing’s more powerful than swapping the ol’ baby-making spit.”

  “Gross, Danny.”

  “It’s a medical term. I swear.” Then, “Anyway, I hope I never find out. The thought of one of those things crawling around in my head…” He shivered. “Damn. I think I might have wet myself there. Wait, did I just say that out loud?”

  “You think she’s still out there? Kate?”

  “I hope never to find that out, either.”

  “What else did they want to know?”

  “Nothing worth repeating. Danzinger seemed more annoyed by the constant hit-and-run attacks than anything.”

  A long series of pop-pop-pop crackled, but this time it actually sounded like it was coming from farther away than the last few back-and-forth. It went on for a few seconds, which stretched into a full two minutes before things fell quiet again.

  Danny was looking down at his watch. “They’re biding their time. I don’t think we’re going anywhere anytime soon, kid.”

  “Mason told me they—the blue eyes—are waiting for someone. They’re using us as bait to get this person here.”

  “Our little buddy Mason seems to know more than he’s letting on. That sneaky little sneaky pussy…cat.”

  “I told you, we should have killed him back at Starch.”

  “Yeah, yeah, stop nagging. You’re starting to sound like Carly.”

  “That’s a compliment.”

  “It should be, she’s a wildcat in bed.” Danny glanced at the door. “Most of them are still in the lobby, including Lopez and Mason. At least eight more running around out there engaging Mercer’s boys.”

  “Twelve in all?”

  “Uh huh. That includes the driver of the Jeep that was chasing us earlier.”

  “Twelve men is a lot of resources, Danny. If Mason’s to be believed—and I’m not one-hundred percent buying it—they’re here because of the blue eyes, and this person they’re trying to lure to Gallant.”

  “He’ll come for them soon,” one of the creatures had said last night as it stood over her.

  “Yes,” the other one had replied.

  “And when he does…”

  “We’ll end him.”

  “Finally…”

  Across from her, Danny was staring at the wall next to the door. She didn’t know how long he had been doing that, but it was obvious to her by the look on his face that it wasn’t the barren white wall that was on his mind. He was somewhere else...

  “Danny,” she said.

  He shook his head before she could say anything else. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “What was it, then?”

  “He,” Danny said. “The person all of this is for. The reason we’re still alive.”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t know,” he said again.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Maybe…”

  “Danny, what is it? What’s been on your mind since Starch?”

  He shook his head, then started to speak, only to stop himself.

  “Danny,” she pressed. “What is it?”

  “The blue-eyed ghoul back in Starch,” he finally said. “And at the airport outside of Larkin before that.”

  “Danny, what are you saying?”

  Larkin and Starch were burned into her memory—two nights of confusion that she still struggled to understand even today. She didn’t know how she was going to tell Lara and the others about them if she couldn’t even make up her own mind what had happened. There was a reason Danny hadn’t mentioned all the details to their friends back on the Trident. He hadn’t known how, either.

  “Are they related?” she asked. “What happened outside of Larkin, then in Starch?”

  “I don’t know,” Danny said.

  “Danny…”

  He shook his head.

  “Danny,” she said again, unsure if she actually wanted to hear the answer.

  “Maybe,” he finally said. “Maybe…”

  12

  Lara

  You should be here right now, Will, not me. This was never the plan.

  Why did you have to go and ruin the plan?

  The “man” Riley sent over was a girl named Faith, who couldn’t have been older than twenty, and arrived alone in a small ten-footer to pick Lara up.

  They were halfway to the oil rig when Lara glanced back at the Trident. She couldn’t see Bonnie on the roof, but she’d be there right now watching her back with binoculars while Blaine kept guard on the other side of the wraparound windshield on the bridge. Carly, Benny, Carrie, Maddie, and everyone else would be at their stations and on full alert until she returned.

  This is such a bad idea. You know that, right?

  Everything about this was risky, but they were running out of choices. They had already exhausted most of the refueling locations on Gage’s list around the area—the ones that hadn’t been razed to the ground or occupied by collaborators, anyway. The only other place left to explore was down south along the Mexican coastline, and what were the chances collaborators hadn’t either destroyed or taken over those places, too?

  Mercer. This was all because of him. Before his attacks on the towns, they hadn’t had any difficulty finding abandoned but plentiful fuel.

  Mercer…

  Even when she did everything possible to steer clear of the man, his war still somehow managed to affect her.

  She faced forward and looked past Faith, standing behind the controls in front and slightly to the right of her, and at her destination.

  The platform looked bigger and more imposing out here in the open sea. It was at least 500 feet long and probably half as wide, though she couldn’t be sure of the latter since she was looking at it from the front. It stood well over a hundred feet above the water and rested on four massive foundations made of solid concrete, the heavy gray color marred by bright yellow stripes.

  “How many people are onboard?” she asked Faith, shouting over the roar of the engine to be heard.

  “The Ocean Star,” Faith said.

  “What?”

  “That’s what it’s called. The Ocean Star.”

  “They have names?”

  “I don’t know if all of them do, but this one does. It was designed for about 150 crewmen.”

  “Are there 150 people onboard?”

  “Not exactly,” Faith said.

  From what she could see, the rig consisted of four levels, including the top platform. The lower three were a tangled web of beams and tubing, with rows of yellow guardrails and stairs crisscrossing all four sections from end to end and top to bottom. She paid special attention to the massive crane towering over everything like some kind of metal tentacle rising out of the ocean. She expected to see the snipers that she knew were somewhere up there, but even closer now she still co
uldn’t spot them. Either they were very well hidden, or Riley had taken them down. Maybe that also explained the lack of visible people moving around on the platforms.

  “You live here?” Lara asked.

  Faith nodded. “We all do.”

  “I noticed you’re not wearing a uniform.”

  “We’re not soldiers,” Faith said. She had on khaki cargo pants and a long-sleeve plaid shirt underneath a thick winter coat. Long, stringy black hair poked out from under a hoodie and blew against the cold wind. Unlike Hart and the five with him, the young woman looked nothing like a soldier.

  Faith was also not armed when she showed up, and Lara’s cursory inspection of the boat—made easier because she was standing at the stern behind Faith—had revealed no weapons, though of course Faith could have hidden something inside the compartment under the vessel’s middle console. Lara wore her gun belt, but she hadn’t bothered bringing a rifle. If Riley was setting her up for an ambush at the oil rig, whether she came with one M4 or ten wasn’t going to make a bit of difference. The logic behind her decision was a no-brainer, but the emotional part was less easy to swallow.

  “Don’t go onto the bad man’s oil rig, Lara,” she imagined her mother telling her.

  “Listen to your mother,” her dad would say.

  She crossed her arms over her chest for warmth. It might have been her imagination, but she swore it had gotten noticeably colder since she climbed onto the small boat and began her trek to the oil platform.

  “Why did he send you?” she asked the girl.

  “I don’t know; he didn’t tell me why,” Faith said. “He asked if I would come get you, and I agreed.”

  “He asked you,” Lara said. It wasn’t a question.

  “I told you, we’re not soldiers, Lara.”

  Then what are you? she wanted to ask, but didn’t. She said instead, “You’re survivors.”

  “Yes.” Then, as if sensing her hesitation, the girl said, “Riley’s not trying to trick you, Lara. He wouldn’t do anything to risk Hart and the others.”

  “He took plenty of risks when he sent them to take my boat last night.”

  Faith seemed to hesitate, but Lara couldn’t see her face, so she didn’t know what the younger woman was thinking.