Blood Runs Cold (Stone Cold Fear Book 2)
Page 14
“They’re only ten,” Merle said. “Do you think they’re ready?”
“This is the world now,” Thomas crossed his arms. “They’d better make themselves ready.”
“The hell?” Marie blurted, then covered her mouth with her hand.
Merle, meanwhile, looked like he had something else he wanted to say. Perhaps the twins were his, Pete thought, and he didn’t want them in harm’s way. Even if that was so, he didn’t think the guy was going to have much choice.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, boy,” Thomas said in a low, menacing voice.
Merle bolted for the front door, but was thwarted by his stockinged feet. As he fell, Pete moved toward him, intent on getting the handgun he had tucked into his waistband.
He made it about four steps before he heard the telltale click of a handgun trigger right behind his head.
“No! Please!” Marie screamed.
Pete froze, wondering whether he’d feel himself die, or if he’d simply be gone.
“I don’t blame you for trying,” Thomas said in an amused tone. “I’d have done the same in your shoes.”
Pete held his hands up. Waiting. Waiting.
“Stand up slowly,” Thomas said. “And go back to Marie’s side.”
Merle finally sorted himself out and exited through the front door while Pete walked over to Marie with his hands held high.
“Take these two to the detention center,” Thomas said to Jack. “Put them in the same cell. We might need the others soon enough.”
“Yes, sir,” Jack replied, and Thomas handed him a set of keys.
Pete exhaled in a whoosh, and then inhaled deeply to fill his air-starved lungs.
Detention center. Great.
He wondered whether he’d been a truly heinous shithead in a previous life. It would explain why karma kept kicking him in the ass. Would things have gone differently if he’d come clean with Thomas in the first place? He doubted it, given the town’s over-the-top anti-government sentiment.
They probably would have just gotten here faster. And he would have known less about the town when he went behind bars.
“If the guys who are on their way aren’t military,” Pete said, “there’s no reason for you to believe we’re in on it. Let us go. Better yet, arm us and we’ll fight them with you.”
“Think it through,” Marie said. “You’re a smart man. You could use more guns on your side.”
Instead of helping to make their case, Marie’s words acted like some sort of negative trigger. Pete saw Thomas’s face close down, and knew they were headed straight for the detention center.
Whatever else he was, Thomas evidently wasn’t the sort of person who took advice kindly—especially when it came from a woman.
Jack drew a handgun from his waistband and made a point of letting Pete see him turn off the safety. Then he grabbed Marie’s arm and stuck the gun between Pete’s shoulder blades. “Boots on. We’re going outside.”
Marie slid her feet into her boots, but Pete pretended to be having trouble with it, hoping to create an opening during which he could grab Jack’s gun. But when he took too long, Jack pistol-whipped him across the back of the head.
“God damn it,” Marie said.
“Quit screwing around,” Jack said. “Put your boots on or you’ll walk outside in your socks.”
Head throbbing, Pete jammed his feet into his boots. He was going to have to be a whole lot cleverer if they were going to get out of this alive.
Jack opened the door. “Move.”
“What about our coats?” Marie said.
“Move. Now.”
“Come on,” Pete said to Marie.
Jack marched them across the street. He wasn’t rough with Marie, which lined up with Marie’s observation that he was attracted to her, and Pete wondered if he could use that to talk some sense into him.
Once they had crossed the street, Jack directed them to the left.
Marie wrapped her arms around herself. “We need our coats.”
“Come on, man,” Pete said. “It’s freezing out here.”
“Too bad,” Jack replied, though when he looked at Marie, his expression went pinched and miserable.
At the next building, Jack chose a key and opened the door. As they passed over the threshold, Marie tripped and grabbed on to Jack to prevent herself from falling.
“Sorry,” she said, and began to sob. “I’m so sorry. We’re really who we say we are. Don’t lock us up in here. If you guys lose, what happens to us? I don’t want to die locked in some room.”
Pete was sure she was playing it up. Crying and carrying on wasn’t in her nature. But he silently applauded her making use of whatever hold she could get over Jack.
“We’re not going to lose,” Jack answered. “We’ve got a big fat arsenal here in Clearview.”
He glanced toward the door, then, no doubt worried that he’d said too much—and knowing Thomas wouldn’t be happy about it—and then pushed them to keep moving. They passed through a small, empty room into another, larger room.
As soon as Pete saw the row of cells running along either side of the room, he knew he wasn’t going to let this guy lock him into one. Each cell was completely open to the elements, and held only a single army cot—the kind you might find in a surplus store—and a bucket.
“Real cells!” Marie wailed some more. “When Thomas said detention center, I thought he meant empty rooms or something. Don’t do it, Jack, I’m begging you.”
Jack looked completely torn, so Pete jumped in. “She’s right, man. If things go wrong, then what? We starve in here? The convoy takes us? You know what guys posing as military men are going to be like, don’t you? They’ll rape Marie.”
He waited for Jack to look at Marie again, his face horrified. The moment Jack’s eyes left him, Pete jumped forward, aiming for the gun. But Jack was quicker in body than in mind. He shoved Pete hard enough to send him sprawling, and then grabbed Marie, wrapping his arm around her throat and pressing the gun to her temple.
“Just for that,” he said, “you can take your boots off. Maybe having cold feet will give you metaphysically cold feet the next time you’re thinking about giving me trouble.”
Metaphysically? Jack must have meant metaphorically. Pete might have laughed if the circumstances hadn’t been so dire.
Marie tried to obey, but with Jack’s arm around her throat, she couldn’t bend forward.
“You first, Pete.” Jack waved the gun toward him. “Boots off. Get into the cell with the open door.”
Pete did as he was told, his mind flying through possibilities—which were far too thin on the ground. Marie was crying in earnest now, which made him feel like shit. If he hadn’t tried for Jack, they’d have been able to keep their boots on.
Once he was inside the cell, Jack released Marie so she could take her boots off.
“It’s so cold in here,” she said. “We’ll freeze. Please don’t do this. You don’t need to do this.”
Jack appeared to be disheartened as he led Marie toward the cell, but his reluctance didn’t amount to anything. He still pushed her inside and closed the door behind her.
“You’re worried for nothing,” Jack said. “You’ll be fine in here. I’ll light the stove before I leave.”
“What if you can’t come back to keep the fire going?” Marie said. “What if you die out there?”
“I’m not going to die, and nobody is getting raped on my watch.” Jack reached into his coat pocket, fumbled around inside it, then frowned.
“You took my keys, didn’t you?” Jack glared at Marie. “When you tripped in the doorway.” Then he pointed the gun at her face. “Not the actions of a trustworthy person. Give them back.”
Marie’s eyes were huge and full of tears. “Please, Jack. I didn’t do anything like that.”
Someone pounded on the exterior door, startling all three of them.
“You’re making me late, and I’ve pissed off Thomas. Give me the fuc
king keys.” Jack paused, then bellowed, “Now!”
“Give him the keys, Marie,” Pete said. “It was a good try.”
Marie passed the keys through the bars with obvious reluctance. Pete was sure she was going to tell the guy to get fucked, or something else along those lines, but she surprised him completely when she said, “Jack, I forgive you.”
Jack looked like a man about to choke on a chicken bone, but he stuck the key in the lock and turned it. Then he hurried over to the wood-burning stove and got a fire going.
As Jack was about to leave the room, Pete said, “It’s freezing in here. We need our coats and boots.”
The door slammed closed.
Marie wiped her eyes. “We both screwed the pooch.”
“Yes, we did. The keys thing, though, that really was a good try.”
“I forgot he’d need the keys to lock us in,” Marie said. “I didn’t think it through. Just like I didn’t think it through when I left the notebooks in my pack. I’m sorry, Pete.”
“You’re not the only one who didn’t think things through. I was wearing my fatigues, which is probably what got them suspicious enough to go through our packs. I didn’t even think about it.”
“I’m pretty sure they were going to go through our stuff one way or another,” Marie said. “And what did I say back there? You could see Thomas close down.”
“I don’t know what that was, but it definitely set him off,” Pete said. “I don’t think the guy likes getting advice from a woman.”
“I’ll file it away for future reference,” Marie said, her voice taking on a wry tone. “I’m a little surprised he played the whole thing like we had a chance. Letting me work in the kitchen. You out shoveling snow and chopping wood. I wonder if he ever had any intention of trusting us?”
“I doubt anyone can figure out what a man like Thomas is thinking,” Pete said. “He has smarts and organizational capabilities, but they’re undermined by paranoia.”
Marie shivered.
Pete sighed and went to the cot. “Come here. If we stay close, we can preserve our body heat.”
They laid down together on their sides, and once Marie was settled, Pete wrapped his arms around her to keep her warm.
“Pete Marshall, I’ve had my fill of crazy people.”
“You and me both, girl.”
Chapter 15
Jack hadn’t been gone long before a resounding crash came from the far end of town.
“Are they ramming the gate?” Marie asked.
“It sounded too big,” Pete answered. “It’s only a chain-link fence.”
Moments later, the first gunshot sounded, followed by a man’s shout of pain. Then more gunfire broke out, and he could hear people screaming commands at each other.
Pete desperately wanted to know what was going on outside. Thomas was a bright guy, but did he really understand strategy? He’d shown himself to be competent at setting up and running the town of Clearview, and Pete hoped he was equally competent when it came to protecting the town from the current threat. There was no way he would have tested his abilities before the solar flare; it was one thing to play at war games, and another to be at war.
Pete had a bad feeling that he and Marie needed the Clearview townspeople to win out if they were going to survive. Because he didn’t think the invaders were military. He had a very bad feeling that they were the prisoners he and Marie had already been running from.
And if that were true, he and Marie didn’t stand a chance against them.
“I supposed this means no more hot showers,” Marie muttered.
“This is so fucked up,” Pete said into her hair. “I’m sorry I haven’t done a better job of protecting you.”
“I’d say you’ve done your level best.” Marie readjusted her position. “Shit. I’m already cold.”
Suddenly the battle outside became more intense, building to a crescendo of gunfire and shouting.
Marie tensed, and Pete held her tighter. It was impossible to know which side was expending so much ammunition, but he doubted Thomas would allow such a flagrant waste of their resources. Clearview might be well supplied with ammunition, but unless they had a facility to manufacture more, they had to be careful with what they had.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the gunfire returned to the previous level, with shots fired only intermittently.
The exterior door opened and slammed closed. Pete leaped up from the bed and, since there was nothing else to use as a weapon, grabbed the bucket. It was lame, almost comically so, except there was nothing funny about the situation. Marie stayed at the back of the cell, as though those few feet would make a difference if someone came in shooting.
Jack burst into the room with Pete and Marie’s coats draped over one arm. He threw them in front of the cell, then grabbed their boots and tossed them in front of the cell as well.
Pete reached for the coats and pulled them through the bars.
“Thank you, Jack.” Marie came forward and stuck her arm through the bars, reaching for her boots. “I knew you were a good man.”
Jack went to the stove and added another log.
Marie got hold of one of her boots and pulled, but it wouldn’t fit between the bars. She tugged harder while Jack headed toward the door. Pete took the boot from Marie and tried to pull it through, but it simply wouldn’t fit.
“Jack! The boots won’t fit through the bars!” Pete shouted, wanting to stop him from leaving.
“Fuck!” Jack turned and headed toward their cell, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. “Thomas is going to have my head.”
“You’re saving our life,” Pete said. “Thomas is wrong about us.”
“So wrong,” Marie said. “I have medical training. I should be out there helping your wounded.”
“It’s like these little pricks have a mind of their own,” Jack said of the keys. “Always playing hide-and-seek.”
“How’s it going out there?” Pete asked. “It sounds chaotic.”
“You were right about the convoy,” Jack answered hastily. “They’re a gang Thomas had a run-in with about a year ago. They’ve been collecting all this old military gear and have probably been waiting for an opportunity to gear up. The solar flare has given them the chance, and now they’re rampaging around, fucking stuff up.”
Jack finally got a hold of the keys and held them up triumphantly as though he’d hooked a big fish. He shuffled through them until he found the right one and then stuck it into the lock and opened it.
Pete was on tenterhooks, waiting for an opportunity to overpower Jack and escape. Jack seemed to be more focused on hurrying than on using his brain to think things through. He hadn’t even drawn his weapon. Pete didn’t want to screw up again. His head was still pounding from the earlier blow, but he knew they probably weren’t going to get another chance at this. They needed out of the cell—and then clear of Clearview.
Everything was moving too slow and too fast at the same time. Jack finally slipped the lock free from the latch, and that was his moment. Pete shoved the door open as hard as he could, which sent Jack sprawling on his ass. Pete was out of the cell in a flash, but Jack was quick and was already scrambling across the floor, doing his best to stay out of Pete’s reach.
Pete pounced, turning one of his strides into a jump, and managed to grab Jack’s calf just below his knee. Jack twisted, trying to kick his leg free, and when that didn’t work, he threw a punch. The blow didn’t connect as well as it could have and Pete hung on, trying to gain more purchase on Jack’s leg. Jack threw another punch, but Pete turned his head in time and it only skimmed his cheek.
Marie circled around them, taking care to stay clear of their writhing, grunting, kicking bodies. Her eyes were locked on Jack’s handgun, which was still shoved into the waistband of his pants.
Jack bucked and Pete nearly lost his grip. Then Jack rolled violently, and Pete did lose his grip. He scrambled toward Jack, but he shouldn’t have worried.
“Stop!” Jack cried, and went still. “You’ll break my arm.”
“I can break your arm, but I won’t,” Pete said. “Not if you cooperate.”
Jack strung together an impressive list of curses about the things Thomas might do to him. He struggled, but Pete applied enough pressure to let him know it was a bad idea.
When he was sure Jack was going to remain still, he took the gun from his waistband and passed it to Marie.
“Where’s the arsenal, Jack?” Pete said.
Lips squeezed together, Jack shook his head. Pete pulled Jack’s hand a little higher. Jack tried not to show a reaction, and held off for a moment, but then moaned—a long, horrible sound filled with pain. Pete knew it felt like his shoulder was about to burst out of its socket. When Pete had learned this maneuver, the instructor had demonstrated it to each person in the class, so they’d understand how effective it was. The pain was intense, especially considering how little pressure the instructor had applied.
“The arsenal is at the other end of town, but you need the keys,” Jack said, his face filled with regret.
While Pete kept Jack secured, Marie dug into his pocket, got the keys, and shoved them into her own pocket.
“What do we do with him?” she said. “Lock him in one of the cells?”
“Don’t lock me up,” Jack pleaded, voice full of emotion. “Thomas will have my hide. Oh, man. How did I fuck this up so badly?”
Pete asked Marie for the gun.
“You’re not going to kill me, are you?” Jack asked. “You don’t need to kill me.”
“We’re not going to kill you,” Pete said.
Then, in one smooth move, he hit Jack in the back of the head. It was a clean blow and instantly knocked him out, stilling his motormouth for the time being.
Marie winced. “He’s going to have a terrible headache. I hope you didn’t give him a concussion.”