Maybe, she thought, that was why it was so hard for her to believe that the thing from last night was Will, because admitting it was also accepting that Will hadn’t managed a miraculous escape, a fairy tale she continued to cling to all the way up to last night. In so many ways, accepting that the blue-eyed creature that had shadowed them from Larkin and Starch and now Gallant was, in fact, a transformed Will was the same as coming face-to-face with her failure.
“Hey, you still there?” Mason was saying. “You didn’t fall asleep on me, did you?”
She didn’t bother answering him. Her shoulder hurt and her left arm had grown three (five?) times its normal weight, and it was difficult just to lift it an inch off the dirty diner floor. Besides, Mason’s voice was starting to give her a headache.
“Sweetheart?”
Don’t call me sweetheart, you sonofabitch, she thought, but didn’t have the strength to say into the radio.
“I guess this is goodbye—”
She was so numb and tired and ready to just close her eyes and go to sleep that she almost didn’t react when a hellacious series of gunfire crackled through the radio and cut Mason off in mid-sentence. At first Gaby thought it was all taking place on Mason’s side of the radio, but no, she could actually hear it outside in the street, too.
Crunch! as something broke underneath a heavy boot to her left.
Gaby turned her head—at this point it was the easiest part of her to move without sending jolts of pain through her body—as a man in a black uniform stepped out from a back hallway. The man had frozen in place when his boot came down on a piece of fallen plaster, the crunch that she had heard earlier. He was cradling a rifle and looking forward, searching for (her) something when she saw him.
Almost as if in slow motion, the man turned his head in her direction, and for the briefest of heartbeats they stared silently across the length of the counter at one another. The gunfire from across the street continued, but neither one of them heard it at the moment. For a second—maybe two—there were just the two of them in Tobey-something, staring at one another, both shocked to see the other there.
Mason?
No, not Mason.
She hadn’t needed to see his face to know the man wasn’t Mason because he was too tall and too skinny. He was holding his rifle in front of his chest, the muzzle pointed slightly forward and down, so when he reacted he had to lift the weapon and turn at the same time. She didn’t have to do anything because her M4 was already flat in her lap, the muzzle pointed right at him.
She simply squeezed the trigger and the carbine jumped slightly without the benefit of a second hand to steady it, but she unleashed enough rounds—and, more importantly, in the right direction—that the man screamed as bullets chopped into his legs just around the kneecaps. Many more rounds missed him and slammed into the far wall—and he collapsed to the debris-strewn floor, his body jerking uncontrollably the entire way down.
Gaby didn’t stop firing until she had emptied the entire magazine. She quickly pulled out a fresh mag from her pouch with her good hand and reloaded the rifle, her eyes glued on the twitching form the entire time. The collaborator had landed on his back with both legs still attached, but enough blood had gushed out of his destroyed limbs that they blanketed the area under and around him in no time. A thick stream was already flowing in her direction, and Gaby found herself fascinated by it even as she jerked back the charging handle, doing the whole thing without having to look down at the rifle once.
She couldn’t see the dead man’s head or face because of the angle he had landed, but she could hear him gulping for air just fine. Because of the way his hands were positioned, she had no fears that he was going to reach for the fallen rifle or his holstered sidearm anytime soon.
“Did you get her?” a voice asked. It was Mason, and it was coming from another two-way, this one still clipped to the (dying) dead man’s waist. Mason sounded out of breath, as if he had been running. “Carter, did you get her?”
No, Carter didn’t get me, you shit.
Gaby scanned the diner while doing her very best to ignore the new stabs of pain that seemed to be coming from everywhere. If one of Mason’s goons had managed to sneak into the building unnoticed, a second—even a third—could have done the exact same thing.
So where were they? Because she was ready. Or she was as ready as she was going to be, anyway.
After about five seconds without an answer from Carter, the radio on the floor next to her squawked, and Mason said, “I guess it’s true what they say: If you want something done, you have to do it yourself.” He sighed, sounding exasperated but resigned. “Maybe next time, sweetheart. Until then, don’t forget me, huh?”
Go to hell, she thought. Go to hell…
Sometime between when Mason signed off and she was telling him to go to hell while staring at the unmoving body at the other end of the counter, she closed her eyes and didn’t open them again until a voice said, “Hey-o, what have we here?”
She snapped awake and turned her head because the voice had come from right next to her—
“Relax, it’s me,” Danny said.
She let out a relieved sigh and forced her finger off the trigger. “Jesus, Danny…”
“No, just Danny, but you’re not the first person to confuse me with a higher power.”
He was crouched next to her, looking past her at the dead body on the other end. She choked back tears at the sight of him. She didn’t know how he was still alive or how he had gotten here, and she didn’t care, either.
“You made a hell of a mess there, kid,” Danny was saying. “Remind me never to invite you to Danny’s Game Nights in the future.”
“I’d kick your ass,” she said.
“Oh, I have no doubt,” he said, and grinned at her through a face full of scratches and bandages. Gaby didn’t even want to think about what kind of work Zoe was going to have to do on all three of them when they made it back to the Trident.
All three of us…
“Nate?” she said, almost too afraid to see the response on his face.
Except he smirked, which was a good sign.
“Limping around somewhere outside, but otherwise still in one piece,” Danny said. “Well, mostly. I had to leave him behind so I could take care of the dudes hiding in the donut shop.”
“What happened?”
“There were guys. I killed them. No big whoop.”
“Did you get him? Mason?”
Danny shook his head. “Sneaky little bugger must’ve snuck out before I showed up and ventilated the place.”
“He’s really good at that…”
“His luck’s going to run out sooner or later.”
“Hopefully sooner…”
Danny nodded when suddenly he jerked his head toward the street and lifted his M4 from the floor.
“What is it?” she asked, because she hadn’t heard anything.
“Cars,” Danny said.
“I don’t hear—”
“Stay here,” he said before she could finish.
“Danny, wait—”
But he was already on his feet and rounding the counter.
She sighed and tried to get up, but the pain was too much and she had to sit back down. With the carbine still across her lap, she waited to hear gunshots, but there was just the silence and…
She gave up and closed her eyes.
“Hey,” Nate said as he hovered over her.
“Hey,” she said, smiling up at him. “You’re alive.”
“I am. And you are, too. You did a pretty good job with that shoulder. Good thing you’ve had a lot of experience lately.”
“You really okay?”
“Stop worrying about me.”
“I can’t help it.”
He smiled. “Okay, if you insist.”
He reached down and stroked her cheek, and she leaned against the familiar and welcoming feel of his hand as she tried to figure out where she was.
She was lying down, she knew that much, but where? It wasn’t the diner’s hard-tiled floor under her, but it wasn’t quite a mattress, either. Maybe one of the booths? It was definitely something soft, and she never wanted to get up.
“It’s a van,” Nate said, seeing the look on her face.
“A van?”
“They found it near the shoreline. I don’t think they had any idea how handy it’s going to be, with you and the chest and all.”
“They?”
“I’ve been called worse,” a familiar voice said.
Gaby turned her head and saw Carly leaning over the front passenger seat of the vehicle. She had a ball cap on, long red hair spilling out along the sides, and she had a contagious grin on her face as she looked back at Gaby and Nate.
“And yes, in case you were wondering, I was totally eavesdropping on all the lovey-dovey talk,” Carly said.
“Thank God you’re here,” Gaby said. “I’m getting so sick and tired of staring at these two guys all the time.”
“You’re just saying that because I brought a van to pick you up.”
“Yeah, that too.”
“Now that we’re all caught up, what’s in the chest?”
“The chest?”
“The chest,” Nate said. “Remember?”
Oh. Right. The chest.
It was an old-fashioned wooden treasure hope chest, to be specific. They had found it in an antique shop next to the bank. The building had almost completely collapsed in on itself from the bombing, but the chest, all thirty-by-eighteen-by-twenty inches of it, stood out from the destruction anyway, heavily chipped by falling debris but intact. They had covered up all the edges where even the littlest bit of sunlight could possibly penetrate with duct tape and ended up using three full rolls just to be absolutely certain.
“So what’s in the chest?” Carly asked again, looking from Nate to Gaby.
“You didn’t ask Danny?” Nate said.
“He wouldn’t tell me. Kept saying it was a surprise.”
“Oh, it’s a surprise, all right.”
Carly sighed. “See, this is why I could only get Blaine and Bonnie to come with me to rescue you guys. Because you guys suck. Even Lara turned me down.”
“Liar,” Danny said as he leaned into the front passenger-side door and kissed Carly.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in tight. After a while, Gaby wondered if the two of them even remembered that she and Nate were still back here doing their best not to notice, which was difficult since they were just a few feet away.
After a while, Nate cleared his throat. “Come on, guys, do you really have to do that in front of us? It’s kinda gross.”
Danny stopped sucking face with Carly just long enough to grunt out, “Shaddup, Nate-o-meter.”
“Yeah, shaddup,” Carly said before dragging Danny’s mouth back onto hers.
Nate sighed and looked back at Gaby. “It’s going to be a long car ride.”
“We’re going home?” she asked.
“Bonnie already radioed the Trident. They’ll be waiting for us at the shoreline, and this time they’re not going anywhere until we’re back onboard. Lara’s supposed to be sending some people to meet us halfway as insurance.”
“People? We have ‘people’ now?”
Nate shrugged. “She didn’t elaborate, but apparently a lot’s happened on their end while we’ve been running around out here.”
“More surprises,” Gaby said. Then she smiled up at Nate again. “What the hell. I like surprises…”
Epilogue
“We took a vote,” the man with the bald head and red facial hair said three seconds after he entered the room and sat down on the chair, facing Keo from the other side of the iron bars. Keo liked a man who got right to the point.
“Pray tell,” Keo said.
He didn’t bother getting up from the stained cot in the back of the cell or making any effort to open both eyes. One was enough to see the newcomer. Sunlight streamed in through the room’s only high window, but it was still closed and therefore didn’t do anything to clear up the stale air. The irony sucked—he was sitting on an island with an abundance of fresh air, but he couldn’t breathe in a single speck of it.
“Half voted to shoot you and toss you into the ocean,” the man said. “The other half wants to make it slow and painful.”
“I’ll take choice number three.”
“There is no choice number three.”
“I demand a recount.”
The man frowned. “You’re not taking this very seriously.”
“This is totally my serious face.”
“Your life is on the line.”
“Yeah? So what. Same shit, different day.”
The man smirked. “Interesting life you must lead.”
“You have no idea. I should write a book.”
“What would you call it?”
“Keo’s Life of High Adventure and Shitty Luck.”
“Doesn’t sound like such a great life, after all.”
“Depends on how you look at it,” Keo said.
The man smelled of fried fish, something Keo hadn’t had the pleasure of enjoying the last three days. At least they had fed him something, even if he couldn’t tell what that “something” was. But food was food, even if it did come in clumpy white liquid form on a heavily chipped and peeling cafeteria tray. They hadn’t bothered to give him any utensils—not even the cheap, flimsy kind—so Keo’s fingers were still sticky with this morning’s rations.
“I’ll tell you some stories if you tell me how the war’s going,” Keo said.
“We’re pulling most of our people back earlier than planned,” the man said.
That was surprising—not that they were pulling people back, but that the man was actually answering his question. Normally Keo couldn’t get a single word out of his guards, and the last four people who had come to see him hadn’t offered very much in terms of information, never mind what was happening beyond the island’s beaches.
“We’re not sure how to proceed without Mercer,” the man continued. “He was the engine that drove the revolution. Without him…” Baldy shook his head. “We’re at a crossroads, Mr. Keo.”
“Just Keo. Mr. Keo was the guy I pretended to be back in college in order to get some cheap tail.”
The man chuckled. It even sounded genuine.
“You got a name?” Keo asked.
“Rhett,” the man said.
“Nice to meet you, Rhett.”
“Can’t say the same, unfortunately.”
“Understandable. I did murder your boss.”
“Yes, you did.”
“So why am I still alive, Rhett?”
“Erin.”
“Erin?” Keo said, remembering his last image of her lying on the floor inside the Comm Room.
“We’ve been trying to figure out for the last three days why she did what she did,” Rhett said. “She was one of us. More than that, she was one of Mercer’s chosen few. And for her to do what she did… That’s why you’re still alive.”
There was sadness in Rhett’s face, the look of someone mourning more than just a colleague, but a friend…and maybe something more?
“Were the two of you involved?” Keo asked.
Rhett smiled but shook his head. “No. She wasn’t interested.”
“You ever heard of Rogaine?”
“No. I mean, she wasn’t interested in men.”
“Ah.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I never asked.”
“Not that that has anything to do with anything,” Rhett shrugged. “Anyway, we’ve spent the last three days gathering information, talking to people—everyone she knew, and who thought they knew her. We were at a dead end until we found this.” He reached into his back pocket and took out a piece of folded paper. “One of her friends found it. It was wedged under her pillow, which is why she didn’t see it until this morning when she was changi
ng the covers.”
“What is it?”
“A note from Erin.” He opened it but didn’t show the contents to Keo. “It explains why she did what she did and what she was hoping to accomplish by it.”
“I’m not in there, am I?”
“No. She didn’t even mention you once.”
“Given my luck with women, that figures.”
“It’s about Mercer. And the war. Or, as she calls it in the letter, ‘Mercer’s bloody crusade.’”
“What else does it say?”
“The rest is meant for her friend.”
“Come on, Rhett, have a heart. I haven’t had much entertainment in here waiting for you guys to make up your minds.”
Rhett folded the paper and put it back into his pocket. “Suddenly it made sense why she did what she did. It’s something that a lot of us have thought about, but it took Erin’s sacrifice to finally bring it into the light.”
“The townspeople,” Keo said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” Rhett nodded. “The townspeople.”
“None of that explains why I’m still alive. Mind you, not that I’m complaining, but being all alone in here day after day makes a guy think, and my head hurts.”
“We know you came to the island with Erin. What we don’t know is how much of a partnership the two of you had.”
“Assuming we had one, how does that work out for me?”
“I don’t know. I guess it would depend on how we ultimately decide to judge what Erin did.”
“So how’s it looking?”
“Fifty-fifty.”
“Eh, I’ve had worse odds.”
Rhett nodded. “If I were you, that would be my play, too. I don’t see any other option, given that you blew Mercer’s brains all over the Comm Room.”
“In my defense, I wanted to blow his brains all over his private quarters. We just ended up in Comm.”
“In any case, I don’t know what’s going to happen to you, Keo. For better or worse, right now you’re nowhere near our top priority.”
“Daebak.”
“What?”
The Purge of Babylon Series Box Set, Vol. 3 | Books 7-9 Page 74