I could use one of those bags.
They waltzed up the street, looking alert and ready for anything. The fact that they had shot their way up the street didn’t sit well with her. They had to know they were drawing attention to themselves. Unnecessarily so. That told her they were reckless, and Emily didn’t like reckless men.
She was leaning toward staying put and not giving herself away to the approaching trio when she glimpsed movement from underneath her.
Emily looked down.
Greg.
Shit.
The big contractor was running down the driveway, waving to the trio as they neared her house.
Goddammit, Greg.
She didn’t completely blame the contractor, though. Greg no doubt saw uniforms as a sign of authority, and after everything they had been through, this was the rescue he’d been waiting for.
She hurried downstairs, using the time between the master bedroom and the stairs to switch the 1911 from her front waistband to the back, then throwing her shirt over it. There was a noticeable bulge that was easy to spot, so she’d just have to make sure every pair of eyes that didn’t already know about the gun stayed on her front.
“Cops,” Pete said as soon as she came downstairs.
She nodded. “I saw them.”
“Greg went out to talk to them. The psychos aren’t coming out. I think they know the cops have guns.”
“They’re not stupid; they won’t come into the open if they don’t have the advantage.”
“Looks that way.”
“This is it, right? This is the help we’ve been waiting for?” Savannah asked. She was camped out at the dining room window, watching Greg outside.
Maybe, Emily thought, but didn’t say it.
She walked to the door and pulled another golf club out of the bag instead. Greg had already removed the bookcase from the door and it was leaning against the wall.
“Where’s the gun?” Pete asked.
“I still have it,” she said. “For now, until we can trust them, let’s keep that to ourselves, okay?”
The teenagers exchanged a confused glance. Emily didn’t have time to persuade them and hoped they kept their mouths shut as she stepped outside.
Greg was in the street looking alertly around him while he talked to the first cop she had spotted. The other two deputies stood guard in the background. The sun glinted off the barrels of their shotguns, and Emily thought again, Damn, I could definitely use one of those.
Emily thought she caught a glimpse of Don Taylor directly across the street, peering out from behind Mrs. Landry’s living room curtains before quickly disappearing back into the darkness of his former victim’s home.
“Emily,” Greg said, looking over as she approached them. “This is Troyer. And that’s Chrisman and Barton. They came from the police station nearby.”
Troyer nodded at her. He was tall and muscular, with short blond hair. Handsome enough, though these days she measured everyone against Cole, and Troyer came sorely lacking in that respect. Most women might disagree, but they hadn’t been spoiled by Cole like she had.
“You folks managed to survive here the last two days without firearms?” Troyer asked.
Before Greg could answer, Emily said, “Yes.” She showed him her golf club. “We’ve been getting by.”
“We thought we heard shooting earlier,” the one named Barton said. He was the shortest of the three, with a haircut that was dangerously close to being a buzz cut. Early forties, which made him about ten years older than Troyer and even older than the third man, Chrisman.
“Wasn’t us,” Emily said. Before they could ask her more questions, she said, “Do you guys know what’s happening out there?”
“We’re trying to figure that out ourselves,” Troyer said. He glanced over at Mrs. Landry’s fly-covered body just beyond the windowsill to the dead mailman up the street. “Let’s get inside before some of them get brave and make a run for us.”
She nodded and stepped aside, but didn’t turn her back to them. This way, she was keeping them from seeing the slight bulge of the 1911 behind her waist. They walked past her. First Greg and Troyer (with Greg giving her a curious look), then Barton.
And finally, the last man, Chrisman. He was shorter than Troyer but taller than Barton, and wider than both of them. He had shaggy brown hair and dark eyes that lingered on her just a little bit too long for comfort.
“Come on, ma’am, dangerous out here,” he said.
She smiled, but lingered just a little bit to let him past. “Right behind you.”
She followed them into the house, Pete quickly closing and locking the door after them. Then, with Greg’s help, the two men lifted and settled the bookcase back over the door.
The three cops lingered in the living room, glancing around them to get a lay of the land. Quickly, Chrisman and Barton’s eyes found Savannah, and while Barton moved his eyes away, Chrisman, as he had outside earlier with Emily, kept his just a bit too long on the teenage girl.
Savannah knew it, too, and she walked over to where Pete stood and slipped her hands around his arm. Pete smiled at her. Emily wondered if the boy had noticed the way the cops—especially Chrisman—were looking at his girlfriend just a few seconds ago.
“You guys been here since yesterday?” Troyer was asking. Of the three, he was obviously in charge, and she recognized intelligence behind his blue eyes. He was one of those people, like Cole, who saw everything with just a glance.
Be careful around him. Be real careful.
“Since yesterday,” Greg said. “I was working on a room upstairs with my partner when everything happened.”
“Where’s he now?”
“I had to kill him.”
“He was infected?” Barton asked.
Greg nodded. “You know about that?”
“Everyone knows about that.”
“What else do you guys know about what’s happening out there?”
“You probably know as much as we do,” Troyer said. He turned his attention to Emily. “This your house, ma’am?”
“Yes,” Emily said.
“Where’s your husband?”
“He’s making his way home right now.”
“You mean he’s still out there?” Barton asked.
“That’s right.”
“And he’s still alive?”
“Yes.”
“You sure about that?”
“Very.”
“I see,” he said, even though she didn’t believe him for a second.
Barton and Troyer exchanged a look, but neither man said anything.
“You guys know how it happened?” Pete was asking the deputies.
“It happened too fast,” Barton said. “In the blink of an eye. Before we knew it, everything was crazy. People killing each other, even deputies. There was no rhyme or reason to it. Like you folks, we’ve been trying to figure it out and coming up with nada.”
“We were hoping you’d have some answers,” Greg said.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
Emily had sat down at one of the dining room tables, in a spot that allowed her to see everyone standing in front of her. Troyer was to the left with Greg, and Barton and Chrisman in the middle, with Pete and Savannah to her right. As the conversation continued, Chrisman had wandered over to the living room window and was glancing out at the street beyond.
Or he was pretending to.
When the cop didn’t think anyone was watching, Chrisman sneaked a look over at Savannah, still clinging to Pete’s arm. Emily didn’t like the way he was looking at the girl. She didn’t like it one bit.
“So where is everyone?” Greg was asking Barton and Troyer.
“Everyone?” Troyer said.
“The state. Federal government. Everyone.”
Barton shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said, things went bad really fast. I don’t think anyone was prepared for it. I don’t even know if there’s still a state government out there,
never mind federal.”
“Is that possible?” Pete asked.
“I don’t know, kid. I just don’t know.”
“That’s the problem,” Troyer said. “We don’t know anything. I’m not sure anyone does.”
“All we’ve been doing is staying alive,” Barton said. “The infected ones, they’re everywhere. I’m almost sure there’s more of them than there are of us at the moment.”
“You guys have any ideas why you weren’t affected?” Greg asked.
“No idea. You?”
“None.”
“Well, shit. All we know is that they’re dangerous.”
“We call them psychos.”
“How’s that?” Barton said.
“Psychos. That’s what we call them.”
Troyer smiled. “Sounds like a good a name as any, I suppose. They act pretty damn psychotic, that’s for sure.”
“Where did you come from?” Emily asked them.
“Ma’am?” Barton said, like it was the strangest question he had ever heard. Or maybe he just didn’t expect her to ask it.
“Did you drive in here?”
“No, ma’am. We boated here from Pebble Creek. Hoping to find something more than what we found there.”
“What did you find in Pebble Creek?” Greg asked.
Barton and Troyer exchanged a look.
“What?” Greg said.
“Let’s just say you folks got it good,” Troyer said. “It’s a bloodbath over there. Probably in the other subdivisions, too, we don’t know.”
“So it’s happening everywhere,” Pete said.
“Just about, kid,” Barton said.
“We know the phone’s down, and so’s the TV,” Greg said. “What about the radios? Were you able to reach anyone on the radios?”
“Nada,” Troyer said. He sighed and shook his head. “It’s silent out there, folks. If there’s even still a U.S. government, we ain’t hearing a peep from them. And we tried. We tried all day yesterday and this morning.”
“How is that possible?” Savannah asked. She sounded on the verge of crying.
“I don’t know what’s possible or not anymore, missy,” Barton said. “It just is. It just is…”
Chapter 11
“Why didn’t you want to tell them about the gun?” Greg asked when they were collecting water bottles from the backroom to share with the others.
She didn’t answer him until she was sure there was no one looking in through the open door behind them. “Just in case, Greg.”
“Just in case of what, Emily? They’re cops.”
“I know that. That doesn’t mean we can trust them.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Haven’t you seen what’s been happening out there? People aren’t exactly who they used to be these days. Not our neighbors, not even our business partners. Or our friends.” She stopped short of just saying Barnes’s name, but it seemed enough to make her point. “This isn’t the time to be trusting people we hardly know.”
“We hardly know each other, too.”
“We have two days. And before that, nearly a week. We’ve just known them for just one hour.”
“Emily, they don’t have bloodshot eyes. They’re fine.”
“They’re just not infected. There’s a big difference between that and being ‘fine.’”
He shook his head, clearly frustrated with her. “You need to trust someone sometime, Emily.”
“I am trusting someone. I’m trusting you, and Pete and Savannah. But I’m not going to put my baby’s life into the hands of three strangers who think it’s perfectly fine to show up and start shooting up the neighborhood and calling attention to themselves.”
That made Greg pause for a moment. Apparently, he hadn’t considered that part.
Finally, he said, “And don’t mention the baby to them, right?”
“Yeah. Let’s keep that to ourselves, too.”
“I’m not comfortable with this, Emily. If this thing is as widespread as we think it is, we might really need these guys.”
I’d rather have their guns, she thought.
“Look,” she said, picking up two water bottles and placing them in his arms along with the four he was already cradling, “if I’m wrong about them, and they’re good guys, then there’s no harm. We’ll have a laugh about it later. But if I’m even a little bit right, don’t you think we should have something to protect ourselves from them besides golf clubs?”
He sighed. “Maybe you’re right. I guess I’m just used to trusting people.”
I’m not, she wanted to say but didn’t.
Instead, she said, “You have to trust me on this, Greg. Let’s just stay cautious. Okay?”
“Just in case?”
She nodded. “Just in case.” Then, “Now come on, before they wonder why it’s taking us so long to grab some water bottles.”
She walked past him and heard Greg say from behind her, “I really hope you’re wrong about them.”
“Yeah, me too,” she said.
While they were in the backroom, the deputies had decided to go out to Greg’s van and bring in the generator, flashlights, and extra batteries Greg had mentioned earlier. They already had a lot of their own supplies in the duffel bags, and combined with their guns, didn’t exactly need the extra battery pack for the nail gun or the clips for it, so they left those behind.
The cops didn’t say so, but Emily knew they had extra weapons inside their bags. She was 100 percent certain Troyer was carrying at least a rifle in his bag by the way the barrel was jutting against one end, but neither he nor the other two offered to show them the contents, and she didn’t ask to see them.
For one, she wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if she brought up the topic. One possibility was that things might deteriorate. Fast. Right now, the trio seemed content to play nice and as long as she still had access to the SIG Sauer behind her back, Emily was willing to go along with it.
Besides, she didn’t like the odds. Three against one was not her idea of a fair fight. She had the 1911, but they had their own pistols, plus secondary weapons. In a gunfight, she’d lose. Badly. The most she could hope for was to take out two of them before the third one got her.
And that wasn’t acceptable.
Not even a little bit.
Emily had at least one ally in Savannah, which surprised her. The teenager waited until the men—all five of them—went outside to raid Greg’s van before speaking up. The problem was that the deputies took their bags with them, which all but confirmed to Emily that there was more than just ammo inside.
“I don’t trust them,” the girl said when the men were all gone and it was just the two of them in the house.
Emily looked over at the teenager, just barely able to hide her surprise. “Why?”
“The big one? Chrisman? He keeps looking at me. He doesn’t think I notice, but I do.”
She’d underestimated Savannah. The girl was a lot more perceptive than Emily had given her credit for. Certainly, a lot more than Pete, who hadn’t caught any of Chrisman’s not-so-subtle leering.
They stood at the dining room window, looking out at the men. Barton and Troyer were standing guard with their shotguns on opposite sides of the van, while Chrisman, Greg, and Pete grabbed supplies out of the vehicle.
“Am I just being paranoid?” Savannah asked.
“No,” Emily said.
“You saw him, too?” she asked, sounding almost hopeful.
“Yes. He’s not nearly as good at hiding it as he thinks he is.”
“Thank God. I thought for a moment it might have just been me.”
“It’s not.”
“So what should we do? I haven’t even told Pete.”
“Don’t tell him.”
“Why?”
“Pete can’t do anything about it. If he brings it up, it might make things worse. For now, we’ll play along with them.”
“What if Chrisman tries something?�
��
“Then I’ll kill him,” Emily said, surprised that the proclamation came out so frankly. And here she thought she was retired. Maybe she always knew that was a lie, too.
Savannah didn’t say anything, though she did stare at Emily for a few more seconds before turning back to the window. Emily couldn’t tell if the teenager believed her or not, but if the girl was half as smart as Emily thought she was, she probably did.
“Savannah,” Emily said.
“Yes?”
“Whatever happens, stay close to Pete.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it. At all times. Don’t stray.”
“I understand.” Then, looking over at Emily, “Are you really good with that gun?”
“Did I tell you how I met my husband?”
“No.”
“Cole got himself into trouble overseas and needed protection. He hired my company, and I ended up as his bodyguard.”
“You were his bodyguard?” the girl said, sounding not-so-slightly incredulous.
Emily smiled. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
“It’s just that, well, you’re a woman.”
“Last time I checked, that’s true.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I just never pictured female bodyguards. So, what happened then?”
“Long story short, I saved his life.”
“How?”
“People wanted to hurt him, but I hurt them first.”
“Did you have to use a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,” the girl said.
“Stick to Pete,” Emily said. “I’ll handle the rest.”
Greg and Barton carried the generator into the house instead of using the wheels and headed straight into the backroom. Chrisman followed with the spare flashlights and batteries, while Pete and Troyer trailed behind him, still outside on the walkway. No one seemed to be in much of a hurry, and she guessed they didn’t have to considering the firepower. The psychos, however many of them were out there, had stayed away, including Don.
Emily was holding the door open, which allowed her to stand to the side with her front presented to the deputies. The 1911 was her ace in the hole. It wasn’t that she wanted to have to use it, but if she did… It was better to have it and not need it than to not have it when she needed it.
Fall of Man | Book 2 | Homefront Page 9