He stole a quick look up at the sun again. He had plenty of hours left, but it wouldn’t last.
Nothing ever did, these days.
He left Luke and Bill in the ditch and carried Jordan into the fields about fifty meters from the highway before digging a shallow grave using two Ka-Bar knives he’d salvaged from the dead men. It took longer than expected, and his palms were raw and blistered by the time he was done. He buried Jordan and covered her up to keep any animals that might still be roaming around out there from getting to her, then sat down next to her grave for about half an hour, with just the silence and the wind to keep him company.
Afterward, he walked back to the bodies and went through their pockets. They were carrying identical AR-15s, each one mounted with a large scope for long-distance shooting. He slung Bill’s rifle, then threw Luke’s as far into the grass as he could. He had a feeling he had a long walk ahead of him, and each rifle was already at least seven pounds of extra weight. He slapped on a gun belt, then put the Sig Sauer he had taken from Luke in the holster. Keo pulled the spork out of Luke’s neck and wiped off the blood, then pocketed it. The damn thing had saved his life twice now; the least he could do was keep it around.
He couldn’t find any tactical packs on either men, which meant they had left them behind somewhere. Keo climbed back up to the highway and reoriented himself, remembering where he and Jordan had been standing when the shots came. Then he backtracked the source of the gunshots into the endless fields and kept walking until he found two camouflage packs among the grass about 150 meters away.
He unzipped them one by one, pulling out MREs, canned beans, and extra magazines. They were both too heavy to take, so he tossed most of the canned goods and extra ammo and kept just the MREs and the spare magazines he could carry without overburdening himself. The load was still too heavy, but he figured it’d get lighter as he used up the supplies along the way. If not, he’d just eject what he didn’t need, as needed.
He spent another hour looking for Luke and Bill’s vehicle. He was sure it was out there somewhere, like their packs. They couldn’t have humped all the way out here on foot, could they? It was possible, but where would they have stayed last night? He was obviously dealing with a two-man kill team. He wouldn’t have been surprised to learn there were identical squads crawling all over Texas at the moment, making life miserable for the collaborators.
But despite his confidence, he didn’t find a vehicle anywhere in the vicinity. Either the men had hidden it too well, or they really had been dropped off. Both were possible, and neither one did him any good at the moment. He considered expanding his search range, but that would have taken much too long, and time was, as always, not on his side.
Keo walked about a mile up the highway, sticking to the ditch alongside it to stay mostly hidden, before finally stopping when his stomach growled again. He took a break and opened one of the cans, devouring the beans inside using the spork. He noticed there was still blood along one of the tines but ignored it.
He opened one of the pouches around his waist and took out the map he had spotted earlier while removing the belt from Luke. It was heavily marked, with collaborator towns circled in red ink, including T18 just outside of League City. The new map was almost identical to the one he had taken from Gregson, but with a few notable additions. One had a rough drawing of a star within a circle next to a town called Larkin, Texas. A second star-within-a-circle marked Lochlyn, about twenty miles northwest of his current location. As far as he could tell, Lochlyn was a small place in the middle of nowhere. Both new locations had crude drawings of planes next to them.
Airfields. That’s how they’re getting in and out of Texas. Using private, isolated airfields hidden in the countryside.
He glanced up at the sky, then down at his watch. Five hours of sunlight left. If he didn’t stop to rest again, he could easily make Lochlyn before nightfall.
And then what?
He had limited options, but one of them was to continue on to T18 and try to rescue Gillian, which would mean fighting his way back into a town he had already barely survived the first time. But she was in there, and she was in danger, and goddammit, he owed it to her and Jordan to get her out before Mercer’s people attacked again.
What was the alternative?
Go to Lochlyn, find Mercer, and kill him.
If the man was even there, and if putting a bullet between Mercer’s eyes stopped this—whatever “this” was. But then again, what was a snake without its head? If killing Mercer stopped the war, then Gillian would be safe. Her and the baby and (Fuck you) Jay.
Two possibilities. Two directions. They weren’t much, but there it was.
Lochlyn was closer, but what were the odds Mercer was even there? Fifty-fifty? Ten-ninety, against? Maybe he’d get to Lochlyn and there wouldn’t be anyone there at all. Those plane markers, for all he knew, could have just been doodling, Luke’s way of passing the time.
The odds that Mercer was even there, that killing him would change anything, was slim. On the other hand, getting back into T18—even with Tobias’s help—and rescuing Gillian while the town was on lockdown was going to be a hell of a feat.
Shit. It was bad odds either way.
But he’d had worse.
He checked his watch again.
Keo got up, tossed away the empty can of beans, and climbed out of the ditch, jogging across the highway.
Fuck it, he thought as he headed northwest.
Epilogue
“Irony”?
Was that the word? Sometimes he had difficulty grasping the easiest things. He blamed it on having too many voices inhabiting the same space inside his head, an unending tide of chatter, almost like being stuck in a small box with a few million other people, but maybe the answer was simpler. A lack of focus on things that didn’t matter, that was pushed into the background, because everything else in the forefront was crucial to his survival.
Maybe the word he was looking for was “poetic.”
Or “tragic.”
It had to be one of those. Sooner or later, it would come to him. It always did.
Just like how they had led him here. He hadn’t expected it, but here he was. He’d killed the two blue eyes outside of Starch, decapitated them in the woods and left their bodies to be found far, far from this place. It hadn’t been easy, and they had gotten their shots in, but he was always good at surviving.
Adapt or perish, someone once said.
The night had dragged on, and through the seemingly endless throng of black eyes, he had arrived—hurt, bleeding, and badly in need of extra nights of healing. So what else was new? It seemed like that was all he did these days: fight, survive, and rest, in order to do it all over again.
He had abandoned his mission, left Keo and the woman to fend for themselves somewhere out there in the world. There hadn’t been any choice, because Danny was in danger. He and Gaby, and the boy, Nate. But Keo was still alive. He could feel him out there, somewhere. The connection wasn’t as strong as it could have been, but it was good enough.
And there was Mercer. Once a potential ally in possession of an army, with airpower and armor at his disposal. A plan months in the plotting (“You’re with us, or you’re against us.”). Except Mercer wasn’t the answer he had been hoping for. No, Mercer was dangerous. Too dangerous to trust her with.
She was still out there, maybe still waiting for him. He wouldn’t blame her if she had given up. It had been days. Weeks? Months? It might have been months. It was sometimes difficult to keep track of the days and nights, because the days tended to blur by when all he could see whenever he opened his eyes was darkness.
But he had arrived at this place, where all the answers he had been searching for were waiting for him. The blue eyes had given it away. They thought they were hunting him, when in truth it was the other way around. Oh, they hadn’t wanted to, and they fought tooth and nail, but there were ways around that.
This was where it ha
d all started, with that night in the dilapidated apartment building where he found salvation in a pair of silver crosses, just as he needed them the most. A sign from God, or just coincidence? He still didn’t know. Did God even exist? If the devil did, then shouldn’t God, too?
He slid carefully along the rooftop and lowered himself to the edge. The hulking shape of the highway, flat gray in the moonlight, impeded his vision. Metal, plastic, and aluminum carcasses of objects that no longer had any uses covered the mighty structure from end to end. And there, in the background, all the familiar buildings, the skyscrapers, the homes and offices of people who once called this place home.
Ironic.
That was the word he was searching for. It was ironic that he would end up back here, after all the months of running away from it.
Here, back at the heart of the infestation.
Back here, where the longest night of his life occurred, where he and Danny fought for hours to escape the hordes of undead.
Here. In this city. He was in there, somewhere.
Mabry.
The streets and highways and buildings were crammed with them. He was far enough beyond their reach that they couldn’t see or sense or smell him, but he would never be able to get any closer than he was now. They would guard Mabry with their lives, keep him from prying eyes night and day. The blue eyes were in there, too. He couldn’t fight them all, even if he was at full strength.
At least, not alone.
He could already feel Mabry stirring, sensing his nearness. How did he know? Because he was everywhere, and nowhere. Except that wasn’t true anymore. Mabry was somewhere. He was here.
He turned and fled, leaping across rooftops, avoiding the black eyes below. All it would take was for one of them to look up and see him, and they’d swarm. He would never make it out alive.
Two rooftops, three…and the voices remained silent inside his head, a good sign he was still undiscovered. Faster and further. He had to keep going. Keep moving. It wasn’t safe here, not this close to Mabry.
He was bleeding again, the constant motion draining him, slowing him down with every step, every jump, every rooftop. He couldn’t allow that. Weakness lowered his guard, and he needed the mental walls even more now to keep back the voices, to stay beyond Mabry’s reach.
Rest. He needed to rest, and sleep, and heal.
He slowed only after he had left the world of brick and concrete behind and could feel soft earth under his feet. Gray gave way to green as he went deeper, and deeper still, into the woods.
Rest. He needed to rest.
And heal…
“Why do you fight?”
Mabry. Calling out to him, trying to get him to reveal himself. He maintained the wall, but there was no denying Mabry’s voice. It burrowed deep, despite all his best attempts to drown it in memories of his old life, of her...
“You must know by now. There’s no point.”
He concentrated on the worms crawling over his arms and legs. Slippery things. Wet. Once upon a time, he would have been disgusted. Now, they were his daily companion.
“She’ll never accept you. None of them will.”
His eyes snapped open. Footsteps—a flood of bare feet—directly above him. Mabry’s scouts, spreading out into the darkness of the woods. Had Mabry sensed his closeness after all? Was he exposed? Something that might have been panic (or maybe just memories of what panic was) flooded his senses.
“But Kate was right about you.”
No, it was just a false alarm. The black eyes had continued into the woods, the tremors across the ground signaling their passing. It took a while because there were so many of them, but eventually, eventually they faded, until there was just the peace and quiet again.
“Your knack for survival is uncanny.”
He closed his eyes and raised extra mental defenses. He could feel Mabry groping at the corners of his mind. Close, so close, but still searching blind.
“You won’t give up, will you?”
Sleep. Rest. Heal.
“You’ll never give up.”
Soon, very soon, he would come face-to-face with the monster, and he would either slay him or be slayed by him. Soon, very soon, the end would come, and he would either rise victorious or fall. But he had to try. Because too many lives were at stake, especially hers. He would do anything—everything—to protect her, even if he couldn’t stand side by side with her when it was over.
“You’ll fight as long as there’s a breath in your body.”
Mabry was becoming agitated, scouring the connections between the brood with renewed intensity. Because Mabry was the constant voice, the hand that guided them (me) and soothed their worries. Without him, they (we) would be mindless things. Husks.
“You would have been such a worthy successor.”
Mabry was the beginning, and the end.
“Someone to carry on my legacy.”
The everything, and the nothing.
“Alas, alas…”
He was everywhere, and nowhere.
But that last part wasn’t true anymore, because he knew exactly where Mabry was now. The dying blue eyes had led him right to his doorstep.
Here, back in Houston, where it had begun almost a year ago.
Mabry was in there, somewhere.
Sleeping.
Hiding.
And very, very vulnerable…
About The Horns of Avalon
Copyright (c) 2016 Sam Sisavath
Some battles are still worth fighting.
Killing has never been something Keo shied away from, but the events of the last year have made him rethink his bloody past. Except nothing lasts forever. Now, Keo has embraced his old ways and set his sights on a new target—and there is nothing more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose.
For Lara and those on the Trident, an encounter with a new group of survivors pulls them even further off course. It doesn’t seem to matter how hard Lara tries to steer clear of Mercer’s war on the ghouls; fate seems intent on drawing her into the conflict.
Meanwhile, the fighting rages in Texas, with Mercer’s kill teams roaming the land and collaborators on war footing. Caught in the middle, Danny, Gaby, and Nate are desperate to reach the coast, but find themselves pawns in a nightmarish game of cat and mouse instead.
In this penultimate volume in The Purge of Babylon series, loyalties will be tested and destinies embraced, and the road to salvation will finally be revealed to those brave enough to answer the call of the Horns…
Prologue
“Facebook.”
“Facebook?”
“Yeah, Facebook. Twitter. Pinterest. Basically, all of social media.”
“I never had much use for social media.”
“That’s because you’re old.”
“I’m not that old.”
“You’re pretty old.”
He grunted. “Get off my lawn.”
She giggled. It was barely audible, and he enjoyed seeing her act like such a kid again, so why did it make him wince just a little bit?
Because there are undead things all around us. Everywhere. They could be hiding under us right this moment.
Great, Riley, freak yourself out some more, why don’t ya.
He was glad for the darkness, because it meant Hannah couldn’t see the hairs along his arms standing up. After all, he was supposed to be the confident one, the adult that got things done. It wouldn’t have benefited either one of them if she saw through that charade over some inane chitchat about what they missed most about the old world.
“What are you going to miss?” she asked.
It was a good question. He hadn’t thought much about it; staying alive in the here and now had always been more important. Hannah waited, arms clenched tightly around knees pulled up to her chest, but he could tell his answers were less important to her than the act of (hushed whispers) speaking, their little rebellion against the cold nights and the things that moved within them.
> Out there, somewhere…
Always out there…
He fought back another shiver and finally said, “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought much about it.”
“Taco Bell,” Hannah said.
“Taco Bell?”
“I love Taco Bell. Their breakfast menu is to die for. Let me guess: You’re a McDonald’s guy?”
“Neither.”
“Neither?”
“Neither.”
“That’s a first…”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve never met someone who wasn’t either a Taco Bell or a McDonald’s guy. I did meet this one dude who liked both, but I’ve never met anyone who didn’t like either.”
“You need to expand your circle of friends.”
“I guess.” Then, “Too late for that now.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
He searched out Hannah’s form in the blackness but could just barely make out her outline. He only knew where to look because she hadn’t moved from the spot she had settled down in, back when there was still light out. This, despite the fact that they were barely five feet apart. There was a time when that distance would be wider, but those nights were long gone. Now, if he didn’t reflexively sit down next to her, she would do it.
Strength in numbers.
And dwindling, fast…
“Are they gone?” she whispered, her voice dropping noticeably.
He didn’t need to think about the question because there was only one they out there, right now…
He nodded before realizing she probably couldn’t see despite their close proximity. There was a lonely sliver of moonlight somewhere in the back of the room, but they had made sure to stay away from it. Sometimes the creatures moved across rooftops, and even a small, barely inch-wide hole was too much to risk. After all they’d gone through to survive when so many hadn’t, he wasn’t going to take any chances now.
The Purge of Babylon Series Box Set, Vol. 3 | Books 7-9 Page 37