After The Purge: Vendetta Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Sisavath, Sam

  “Don’t do this…”

  “I won’t ask again.”

  Travis shook his head violently and tried to get up, but that was difficult with his legs and arms bound, and he spent more time trying not to fall than actually making any progress. “Please, don’t do this. I can help you find Mathison. I was just fucking around earlier. I know how he thinks. I can help you get her sister back. Fuck Mathison. That motherfucker’s always been nuts anyway. Let me help you. I can help you. I can help you.”

  “Oh, we’ll get her back,” Wash said. “Don’t you worry about that.”

  Wash pulled the trigger and was already walking back to where Ana was sitting with Teresa before Travis’s body had slumped to the ground behind him.

  Ana looked across the campsite, her eyes meeting his. She nodded wordlessly, and he returned it.

  Three down.

  Eight to go…

  Seventeen

  “So you’re killing for her now, huh?” Imaginary Old Man asked.

  I’m doing what I have to do. You taught me that, didn’t you?

  “Be careful, kid. It’s a slippery slope. Once you start, you might not be able to pull yourself out of the hole.”

  I don’t have any choice.

  “Don’t you?”

  No, I don’t…

  Wash stepped through the bushes with the empty bottles of water in his hands. They weren’t going anywhere for a while, so he had gone in search of the creek that was promised in the campsite’s name, but he had come up empty. He did find a ditch that looked as if it once held water, but that was years ago. After another thirty minutes or so of fruitless searching, he gave up and returned to the camp to find Ana crouched over one of Mathison’s men. Chris, since Duncan was the one with the hole in his head.

  “Where’s Teresa?” he asked.

  “She’s in the tent, getting ready,” Ana said.

  “So how’s this gonna work?”

  “I’m going to give her one of the horses and some of our supplies. She’ll have to get home on her own.”

  “You mean one of my horses, don’t you?”

  She smiled, but it was a little bit more forced than usual. “Should I have asked first?”

  Wash shook his head. “No. But will she be able to get back home by herself?”

  Ana glanced over at the tent. They could just make out Teresa’s silhouette on the other side moving around. “I think so.”

  “You don’t sound too sure.”

  “I can’t afford to go back with her.” Ana sighed and stood up. “The best I can do is point her in the right direction. I told her about Kanter 11, about Marie, and she’s got a map from these asshats to help her find her way. That’s the best I can do for her,” Ana finished, but what Wash saw on her face was, “Because Mathison is still out there with my sister, and God only knows what he’s doing to her now.”

  Wash nodded at Chris. “Find anything useful?”

  “No. They have another unopened bottle of whiskey in their pack, if you’re interested.”

  “Maybe later, when we’re celebrating.”

  “What will we be celebrating?”

  “Getting your sister back.”

  Ana pursed her lips but didn’t say anything.

  “And we will get her back,” Wash said.

  “I know I’m asking a lot from you.” She looked down at the two bodies, then over at Travis. “I know this isn’t easy.”

  “Tell me the truth. This was always the reason you wanted me to come along, why you saved my life. So I’d owe you.”

  “I didn’t set you up to get shot by the mountain men, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “No, but you took advantage of it.”

  “By saving your life.” She didn’t look away from him, and he didn’t see any regrets in her eyes. “Yes, I took advantage of the opportunity when it presented itself. I needed someone like you, Wash.”

  “‘Someone like me?’”

  “The first time I saw you, you were sitting in a tree, in the middle of the night, waiting for ghouls to come out. It was never about the horses. It was always about you.”

  Wash grunted. “You could have just asked.”

  “Maybe, but I couldn’t take that chance. Besides, would you have said yes?”

  “I don’t know, but I would have leaned toward helping.”

  “Would you have really?”

  “Yes.” Then, off her genuinely surprised look, “They’re evil men, Ana. I was taught not to allow evil to happen if I can stop it. And I can stop this, so I am, even if it is taking me off course. I can’t just look the other way. I guess I’m just not built that way.”

  “‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’”

  “I don’t know about the ‘good men’ part…”

  “It’s a quote from Edmund Burke.”

  “Was Edmund Burke old and cranky, and liked movies about space aliens and ghost hunters way too much?”

  Ana smiled. “Maybe not ghost hunters…”

  “But I guess all of that’s moot anyway, since you did save my life. What kind of asshat would I be if I just ignored that part?”

  “And you just saved mine.”

  “Nah, this doesn’t count.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “No. But I’ll let you know when we’re even.”

  “Okay.”

  Teresa emerged from the tent behind them. She had washed her face and hair with water and barely looked like the same woman he had seen earlier. She was clutching a backpack to her stomach and looked tentatively at them, as if too afraid to speak first.

  “Ready?” Ana asked.

  Teresa nodded but didn’t say anything. He hadn’t heard her say a single word—at least, not while he was around.

  “Come on,” Ana said, and held out her hand toward Teresa.

  The younger woman walked over and took it, and they walked over to the horses. Ana had already prepared the American Paint for the trip, Wash saw.

  “Remember what I told you about what’s between here and Newton,” Ana said to Teresa. “Try to follow the map as closely as possible. Stop at Kanter 11 before you continue on to Nebraska. They’re good people over there; tell Marie you’re our friend.”

  Teresa nodded but kept silent. From the way she was walking, like she was on automatic pilot, Wash wondered if she actually heard a single thing Ana had said.

  While Ana got Teresa ready to travel, Wash went through the dead men’s packs and catalogued their inventory. By the time Teresa was gone and Ana had walked back over to him, Wash had found a half-full box of 9mm to replace the one he’d given Marie, along with an equally half-full box of 5.56s. All three men were carrying AR rifles, and one of those was apparently chambered for 7.62 rounds because Wash pulled out an almost empty box of just that caliber. There were knives, more MREs, and the bottle of Jack Daniels Ana had mentioned.

  “God, I hope she makes it back to Newton,” Ana said quietly, looking after Teresa.

  “You said her husband’s dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “She saw it happen the night they took her. They killed him in their house.” She glanced over at Duncan’s lifeless body. “She said it was him.”

  Wash stood up with the bottle of liquor and box of 5.56s stuffed into one of the packs, along with the MREs that were already inside. He made a mental note to enjoy one of the meals before leaving the campsite. There were, after all, only so many nuts a man could eat. He had tossed the rest to lessen his weight.

  “Travis said they split from Mathison two days ago, that they’ve been here since…enjoying themselves,” Wash said. “That means Mathison’s got about two days’ head start on us.”

  “It could be worse.”

  “How so?”

  “They could be traveling by horseback instead of on foot. That means there’s still a pretty good chance we can catch up to them before they reach
Texas.”

  “And then what?” he almost asked, but then all he had to do was check the three dead bodies and get his answer.

  “We’ll catch up to them,” Wash said. “We’ll get Emily back.”

  She looked over at him and nodded. “I know we will.”

  They returned to State Highway 49 and immediately pointed their horses south. They rode for two hours straight without stopping, and when they did pause for any length of time, it was to drink some water and let the horses feed. His stomach was full again after the generous calories provided by a bag of MRE, and he had enough renewed strength that Wash didn’t have to dip into his dwindling Tramadol supply. Which was a good thing, because he had a feeling he might need them later.

  Ana remained in the lead while he pulled the Morgan behind them. They were making good progress, and Ana seemed anxious to keep moving as fast as possible, though he was pretty sure she wasn’t overtly aware of it. What she was probably very aware of, though, was that Emily was out there and she was close.

  They passed two signs, one old and one relatively new, pointing to towns off the state highway, but they rode past both without stopping. Wash recognized one of the names from his map, but the other one was new. He made a mental note to update his map later when he had some free time.

  If Mathison was even a little bit smart, he would be avoiding towns just as he had since leaving Newton. The man would be opting instead for campsites and isolated wooded areas to rest, which was how Ana had been able to keep track of him since Nebraska. Wash and Ana stumbling across Travis and the other two had been dumb luck, but the problem with luck was that it never lasted for very long.

  Not that Wash voiced those doubts as they picked up their pace while still sticking to the shoulder. There weren’t a lot of chances of being run over by a vehicle since any car out here would be heard long before they were close enough to be of any danger. It was more from habit; that, and the closer proximity to the trees meant they could dart for cover at a moment’s notice. Wash was still wary of traveling so out in the open after the ambush outside of Harrisonville. The softer shoulder was also easier on the unshod horses.

  They had just passed an old road sign indicating that the Kansas-Nebraska border was two miles up ahead when Ana pulled up short. Wash did likewise and instantly saw the reason why she had stopped:

  Thin wisps of white smoke rising into the air in front and to the right of them.

  They exchanged a quick look, and Wash imagined she was thinking the same thing he was: The girl, the suicide, and One Eye’s message to Wash.

  Then there was that old saying: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

  “Are you getting the same bad vibes as I am?” Wash asked.

  “Yeah,” Ana said.

  “We should keep going.”

  Ana shook her head and bit her lip. She was as conflicted as he was—maybe even more, given what was at stake for her. “We’re not too far from where Travis and the others made camp. And Mathison was headed this way…”

  “You really think he’ll still be this close? Remember what Travis said. They split up two days ago.”

  “He could have been lying.”

  “I don’t think he was. He had no reason to.”

  “Even if he wasn’t a lying bastard, Mathison and the others are still on foot. There could be a lot of reasons why they would slow down or even stop for a while.”

  “Like what?”

  “For one, they don’t know I’m chasing them. They think they’re out here all by themselves. I’m sure they would have taken precautions after Newton, but now?” She shook her head, and Wash thought she was trying to convince herself more than she was him. “There’s no reason for them to be in any hurry. Texas and Brownsville aren’t going anywhere.”

  Wash concentrated on the smoke. It was lazy and didn’t have the telltale signs of a blazing fire. “Could be chimney smoke or an outdoor fire pit. Doesn’t look like a blaze. Not thick or dark enough.”

  “We have to make sure,” Ana said, before nodding with as much confidence as she could muster. “We have to make sure, Wash. I can’t risk passing her—them by. Not when I’m this close.”

  “I guess I’m not going to talk you out of it.”

  “I know you’re still freaked out by what happened at the farmhouse…”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am. But we can’t ignore this. Even after everything that’s happened, I have to make sure of everything.”

  He sighed. He could hear it in her voice; Ana had made up her mind, and he wasn’t going to talk her out of it.

  Right. Like you ever had a chance to talk her out of doing anything, buddy. Let’s face it: You’re not the one leading the charge here, she is. And she has been since day one.

  He sighed. “All right, but this time you’re taking this.” He unzipped his main pack and took out the 1911 model Colt he’d used back at the warehouse, and handed it to her. “No arguments. Not after what just happened back there.”

  She stared at the gun but didn’t reach for it.

  “Ana…” Wash said.

  “I’m really not a very good shot, Wash. I told you that, right?”

  “You don’t have to be. Put it behind your back, under your clothes. Your jacket’ll hide it. Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to.”

  “But if it’s on me, and someone finds it…”

  “If we run into Mathison, do you really think you can talk your way out of it? I know you’re good, but are you that good?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Mathison is a different animal,” Wash said. “You know that.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “So I need you to take this.”

  “You need me to?”

  “Yes. I need you to, Ana. If you have to use it, aim for center mass. The chest. The biggest area on the human body. Once you start shooting, keep shooting until they go down. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Wash handed the 1911 to her again, and this time she took it, still reluctantly.

  “If there’s any shooting to be done, I’ll do it,” Wash said. “But I can’t leave you out there unprotected if something were to happen to me.”

  She put the gun away behind her back. “Maybe one day you can teach me how to use it properly.”

  “It’s a date.”

  She smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a date.”

  “You and me both.”

  “Then I guess we better make sure it happens,” she said, before turning her Tennessee Walker around and pointing it toward the right side of the road. A few seconds later, she had slipped past the tree line.

  He followed her off the road, at the same time moving his M4 from behind his back to in front of him. The new position would save him about a second (maybe two) if he should need the rifle, and in a straight-up face-to-face gunfight, an extra second (or two) was an eternity.

  Eighteen

  This time it wasn’t a farmhouse being engulfed in flames, and there were no suicidal teenagers with revolvers waiting to greet them. The scenery couldn’t have been more different. Not that that did anything to stop the feeling of a gnat nipping at the edge of his peripheral vision, that familiar gut instinct that something wasn’t right.

  It was a log cabin in the woods, maybe just two bedrooms in the back and a great room up front, given its size. Something glinted on the rooftop, and Wash thought, Solar panels? The longer he looked, the more convinced he was that the gleaming objects were solar cell collectors. They didn’t cover the entire roof, but enough to provide some juice. Solar panels were a smart move, and as long as you went to great lengths to conserve power, there was no need for fuel or generators. That, though, also immediately brought to mind the mountain men’s setup.

  Be careful. Be really, really careful.

  There wasn’t much to look at around the cabin, and besides the birds around them, the only other sound was the n
atural flow of a small stream nearby. There was almost a football field of clearing between the tree line and the house, but the distance was much shorter from the side of the house to the woods—maybe just half that. Two windows flanked the building’s front door, the interior hidden behind curtains. A stack of firewood sat next to the door with an ax jutting out of the ground next to the pile. As he had guessed, the smoke they’d spotted from the road was coming from the chimney.

  There were no signs of people, which contributed to the surrounding’s idyllic vibe. That should have eased Wash’s paranoia some, but it only put him on even higher alert. Maybe it was the events of the last few days reminding him not to let his guard down even for a second. The last time he did that, he’d gotten shot.

  Let’s not do that again.

  Ana stood next to him, their horses tied to a tree about twenty yards farther back in the woods to keep them out of sight. They were well hidden enough that Wash didn’t think anyone from inside the cabin could spot them across the yard—especially from the front—even if they did know exactly where to look, which they didn’t. The lack of grass between them and the house was a problem because it meant no cover for their approach. And Wash had a feeling Ana wasn’t going to just leave here without first knocking on that door.

  His side tingled, but he wasn’t sure if that was the wound acting up or his sixth sense reminding him (as if he needed any reminders) that there was something very wrong about this place. He didn’t know what it was, exactly—it was hard to put his finger on any one thing—but everything just looked too damn...perfect.

  Nothing’s ever this perfect. Nothing.

  Ana may have been feeling the same paranoia because she hadn’t moved or said a word since they arrived more than ten minutes ago.

  Finally, Wash said, “We’re going to have to make a decision, Ana. Do we go out there and knock on the door or take off?”

  She didn’t say anything but also didn’t take her eyes off the cabin.

  “You’re feeling it, too?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “That something’s not right.”