She was still shooting, spacing her shots across the floorboards, when there was a sudden flood of cold air. She looked up just in time to see the attic door swinging up, then a figure lunging toward the opening.
Danny!
He was there one second and gone the next, disappearing through the rectangular slot before she could even form his name in her head, never mind actually calling it out loud.
Danny’s disappearance was followed by a single pop! from below, then two more shots—pop! pop!—coming in such quick succession that all three rounds had to have been fired in the space of less than two seconds.
Then…nothing, except for her own ragged breathing to fill the silence. She kept waiting for more shooting, noises—anything.
Nate had pushed off the wall and was trying to peer through the dozen or so holes that the shooters below had created and she had added to. She couldn’t tell if he could make out anything despite the streams of moonlight pouring through from the bullet holes below and above them.
“Anything?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Can’t see shit.”
“Danny’s down there.”
“I know.”
Two more quick shots, followed by the very obvious clatter of a rifle skidding against the tiled floor below.
Danny!
Gaby scooted forward and spent a second trying to look through the bullet holes in the floor the same way Nate had done earlier, but the carpeting was too thick and they still covered up too much for her to spy anything on the other side.
When she looked up, Nate was already at the door looking down. He glanced over, saw the question on her face, and shook his head. “It’s too dark,” he whispered.
She hurried over to him, no longer caring about making too much noise. At this point, everyone (everything) who was in the area already knew where they were. She looked down the opening, realizing that Danny had never unfurled the ladder before he took the plunge. He had simply jumped down like an idiot, not knowing what was waiting for him down there.
Carly’s going to kick your ass if you die, Danny.
The silence inside the store below her had lengthened to thirty seconds…
…forty…
“Danny,” she whispered.
There was no reply.
She exchanged a look with Nate.
He didn’t say anything, but nodded back as if reading her thoughts and saying, without actually saying the words, “Go for it.”
She smiled back at him, reveling in the fact that they could have a conversation without having to say a word. The last few weeks on the Trident had been some of the best nights of her life, even if they did have to sneak around most of the time. Not because the adults didn’t already know, but because there were also a lot of kids on the boat.
Looking at him now, his blue eyes calm and understanding despite the harrowing last few minutes when it probably felt like every bullet in the world was trying to kill him, gave her a flush of pride.
She returned her focus to the opening, to the sea of black on the other side.
Nate put a hand on her shoulder. The feel of his skin against hers, even through the thermal clothing, was warm and soothing, and a silent promise that he would be there, no matter what awaited them on the other side.
She took a deep breath and jumped down.
23
Keo
“How’s the face?” Keo asked.
“I don’t know,” Jordan said. “Is there still an 800-pound gorilla sitting on my forehead?”
“Not that I can see.”
“Then I guess it’s better than the last time you asked. Which reminds me: stop asking.”
“I’m just worried about you.”
“Hey, it’s nice that you care, but once every hour is enough, don’t you think? Especially since we’re not going anywhere anytime soon. If we ever get out of here at all, which in this case is looking unlikely.”
“There you go, being all positive again.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I try.”
“Try harder.”
“Whatever.”
Keo pressed against the cold metal bars and glanced toward the closed front doors, their rectangular frames illuminated by the dipping sun on the other side. They had sealed off the barn an hour ago, followed by a flurry of activity outside. He had heard more than a few of the vehicles roaring to life before taking off.
“It’ll be dark soon,” he said, glancing down at his watch: 4:24 p.m.
“How long have we been in here?” Jordan asked from the other side of the small cage.
“Three hours and change.”
“It feels longer.” She paused for a moment, then added, “What do you think they’re doing out there? Why hasn’t anyone come in to talk to us yet? I thought they were going to interrogate us for information.”
“I don’t know,” he said, and looked up at the ceiling. He could just barely make out the lone, silhouetted form through the wooden slabs. He wasn’t sure where the other one had gone, or when.
“I wish they’d get it over with,” Jordan said. “The wait’s killing me.” Then, “Sorry, wrong choice of words.”
“You’re right; they should have started in with the cattle prods by now. The fact that they’re leaving…” Is worrying, he thought, but said instead, “…doesn’t make any sense.”
“Cattle prods? They use that for interrogation?”
“Among other things.”
“Have you?”
“Among other things.”
“Jesus, Keo.”
“Yeah.”
“Remember how I was curious about what you used to do before all of this?”
“Uh huh.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Smart.”
She went quiet for a moment. Then, “Maybe they know we’re not who they thought we were. Maybe they found out about what you did at T18.”
He shook his head. “I doubt it. Communication isn’t what it used to be. Nothing’s instantaneous anymore. You don’t realize how futuristic we had things back in the good ol’ days, until it’s gone. Remember when they switched out textbooks for tablets in schools?”
“You kidding? I was ecstatic. No more lugging around five textbooks that weighed more than me combined across campus.”
He glanced back at her, leaning against the bars with her eyes slightly closed. She looked almost content—that is, if he didn’t know any better. Sometimes he forgot how young Jordan was. Like everyone he’d met on the road, she’d had to grow up too fast.
He turned away just as she opened her eyes.
“You think he’s still alive?” she asked. “Gregson?”
“I stopped giving a shit about his well-being the second he closed his mouth.”
“You’re all heart, Keo.”
“It’s my weakness.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“That’s easy.”
“Yeah?”
“Just don’t try to shoot me.”
“That’s all it takes, huh?”
“Yup.”
“Good to…” she said, but didn’t finish.
He glanced back and saw her leaning a little bit too much to the right, as if she might have fallen asleep in the middle of her sentence. He hurried across the cage and crouched in front of her, then held her chin with one hand and righted her head.
“The hell?” she said as her eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”
“I thought you might have lost consciousness,” he said, letting go of her chin. “You okay?”
“Didn’t we already talk about that?”
“Are you?” he pressed.
“I’m fine. The head’s pounding just a little bit. Okay, a lot.” She kneaded her forehead with both hands. “You said the truck flew after it got hit?”
“It flew, rolled, and crashed.”
“Yeah, I remember the crashing part. Well, not really remember it, but I can de
finitely still feel it…”
He put his hand on her forehead and felt the bump. It was more pronounced than last time, which meant there was a very good chance of a concussion. He pulled the strip of cloth he still had inside his back pocket, spat on it, and scraped at some dried blood clinging to the side of her temple.
“Ugh,” she said.
“Sit still.”
“It stinks.”
“It’s just spit.”
“I know, and it stinks. Did you brush your teeth this morning?”
“No, but I used mouthwash.”
“Really.”
“No.”
“Right.”
She stopped talking and stared back at him as he cleaned her. Maybe it was the lack of light inside the barn, but the brown of her eyes was surprisingly lively.
“What?” he said.
“Nothing,” she said. “You about done?”
“Close.”
“Hurry up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled.
“What?” he said again.
“Nothing,” she said, but he noticed she hadn’t stopped smiling.
Night came early in winter, and by 5:30 p.m. there was just the moonlight sneaking through the cracks along the wall and roof to keep Keo and Jordan from completely sitting in darkness. It took a few minutes before his eyes assimilated to the new environment and he was able to make out Jordan next to him, their backs pressed against the cage with the barn wall on the other side. Cold wind seeped through the rotting wood, and though he listened for it, Keo couldn’t (yet) hear the sound of bare feet against the empty earth outside.
He found himself eyeballing the distance separating the bars of their cage again. Five inches, give or take. Five whole inches. Was that enough for a creature of skin and bones to squeeze its way through? Maybe. Of course, he and Jordan wouldn’t exactly be standing by, mouth agape like slack-jawed morons, as the creatures assaulted the cage.
How much force would it take to cave in a deformed skull? He had a feeling he was going to find out sooner rather than—
Creaaaak! as the barn doors were pushed open.
Keo shot up to his feet and moved to the front of the cage, Jordan keeping pace beside him. The large twin doors had swung open, and a lone silhouetted figure walked purposefully, as if it had all the time in the world, toward them.
He recognized wide hips and the gait of a woman, and he guessed Marcy (And so it begins) before she actually revealed herself in a pool of moonlight about ten steps later. She stopped on the other side of the cage, bundled up inside a black leather jacket that had a patch of Texas on the shoulder. She was holding a dirty white plastic bag in one hand.
“Hungry?” Marcy asked.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Keo said. “I don’t wanna be one of those guys, but service in this place is lacking.”
Marcy smirked and pulled something out from her back pocket. His titanium spork. She tossed it into the cage, and the heavy utensil clattered loudly across the concrete floor to the other side.
“Thought you might want this back,” Marcy said.
“Couldn’t you have just handed it to me?” Keo asked.
“No,” Marcy said, and reached into the bag and pulled out an unlabeled metal can.
This time, she did aim it at him, and Keo caught it. Behind him, Jordan had picked up the spork and was cleaning it off using her shirt.
“You know there are two of us, right?” Keo asked, holding the lone can up.
“I’m being generous giving you the spork back,” Marcy said.
“Scork, actually.”
“Whatever.”
“Yeah, I’m not a fan of the word, either.”
The can had a pull tab, so he didn’t need the spork to open it. Jordan was practically drooling by the time he tossed the lid away, revealing mushy tuna inside. The smell was indescribable, and Keo couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. It did overwhelm most of the aroma in the place, so that was a plus.
He handed it to Jordan. “Split it with you?”
She grinned, then took the can and dug in with the spork.
Keo looked back at Marcy, watching them from the other side of the cage. “Thanks,” he said. “For the utensil, too.”
“It’s your last meal,” Marcy said. “Thought you deserved to eat it with some dignity, even after what you did to our guys at the beach.”
Shit, Keo thought, but he said, “What is it that you think we did?”
“I know what you did. We found the other guy, too. The one next to the tank.”
Gregson.
Marcy’s face was stoic, lacking anything that he could have interpreted as either happiness or sadness. “He’s been dealt with, in case you’re wondering. And you will be, too, tonight.”
“I thought you wanted to ask us questions,” Jordan said between mouthfuls of tuna.
“Change of plans.” Marcy’s eyes focused on Keo. “Want some advice?”
“Does it involve us getting out of here?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Gee, how about some advice, Marcy?” Keo said in the flattest voice he could manage.
“Don’t resist,” the collaborator said. “Answer every question you’re asked, and don’t lie. Because they’ll know.” She pressed her forefinger against her own temple. “They can get inside. You don’t want them rummaging around in there, because once you open the door and let them in, there’s no way to close it. They’re inside for good and it can get a little…maddening at times. I’ve seen…” She stopped.
“What?” Keo said.
“You don’t want them in there for too long, that’s all,” Marcy said. “So don’t fight it. Just don’t fight it.”
They watched Marcy turn around and walk back to the doors.
“Marcy,” Keo said after her. When she didn’t respond or stop, “Marcy, where are you going? Where’s everyone going?”
The woman kept walking before stepping outside through the doors. Two men in jackets pushed the doors closed with a solid thunk.
“What was she talking about?” Jordan asked.
“Hell if I know,” he said.
“Here,” Jordan said, and scooped some tuna and held it out to him.
It was too salty and covered in a thick film of something that he preferred not to think too much about, but most of it was lost in the metallic taste of the spork anyway. But like Jordan, he was hungry and swallowed it down despite the rank smell.
“Not bad,” he said.
She gave him a wry smile. “It tastes like donkey shit, but at least it’s food.”
“Yeah, that too.”
They spent the next few minutes eating in silence. He held the can while Jordan sporked the food between them. Despite the strange liquid that covered the tuna, he was dying for something to drink when they were done. They kept their eyes on the barn doors the entire time, expecting them to open at any moment.
“Don’t resist,” Marcy had said. “Answer every question you’re asked, and don’t lie. Because they’ll know.”
“They”? Who was “they”?
Jordan scooped the last piece of tuna and held it out to him.
“Finish it,” he said.
“I’ve eaten more of it than you have.”
“Jordan…”
“Shut up and open your mouth.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” he grinned.
“Just do it,” she snapped.
He opened his mouth and had to force himself to swallow down the last piece of tuna. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He flicked the empty can through the bars and watched it vanish into the shadows along the far wall.
“Your spork,” Jordan said, holding up the utensil. “You think she forgot it on purpose?”
“Doubt it. It’s a little ol’ spork, and they have guns. They’re probably not too worried about us feeding them tuna to death, though given how bad it t
astes, that might actually be worse than getting shot.”
He took the titanium spork from her and cleaned it against his pant legs, then put it back into one of his pockets.
“How’s your head?” he asked.
“Like someone’s piping Für Elise directly into my brain, and it’s not nearly as soothing as it used to be when I was younger.”
He put his hand on her forehead again. The good news was, the bump seemed to have lessened in the last few hours, but there was a definite hard-to-miss bruise in its place.
“Can I tell you something?” she asked.
“What?”
“I like it when you touch me.”
He raised both eyebrows. “It’s official; you’re delirious.”
“I’m really not.”
“No?”
“No,” she said, and leaned forward and wrapped both arms around his neck and kissed him.
It caught him by surprise—he saw her coming, the purposeful look in her eyes, but didn’t process what was about to happen until he tasted her lips against his. He kissed her back because he didn’t know what else to do, and because he was a man.
But then she pulled away, her breath slightly ragged. “Jesus.”
“No, just Keo,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “I meant the tuna.”
“Tuna?”
“I can still taste tuna on you, and it reeks.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sit down.”
“What?”
“Sit down.”
“Why—”
“Just do it,” she snapped.
He slid along the bars until he was sitting down on the hard concrete floor. “Jordan,” he got out in the half-second before her mouth covered his again, and he forgot what he was going to say next.
She sat down in his lap, legs wrapping around his waist, and her kiss grew in intensity, her mouth so warm and her lips so soft and welcoming that he couldn’t have resisted even if he wanted to.
The Purge of Babylon Series Box Set, Vol. 3 | Books 7-9 Page 29