Murphy's Law (Roads Less Traveled Book 2) (15 page)

Of course my thoughts focused on Zack, that’s as obvious as a deadhead hanging from your throat. Everyone knows how one thing leads to another in situations like these, until finally you’re so overwhelmed you simply can’t move, can’t do anything but sit and stare at an empty hospital bed with its wrinkled and bloody sheets.

I want to go home.

Sometime before the sun set and the room was cast into darkness, Nancy tiptoed in and laid a hand on my shoulder. She understood better than anyone how I felt, and it was strangely reassuring. She didn’t speak, not a word, just stood there behind me for an incredibly long time with her hand on my shoulder, waiting patiently until I was ready to leave. Even that wasn’t enough to persuade my stubborn tears to fall. That simple act of kindness, an understanding passing between two grief-stricken survivors, wasn’t enough. Tears wouldn’t fix this, wouldn’t kill the swelling rage deep in my chest. But I finally understood what would.

“Where’s my rifle?”

I stood, my eyes shifting from the bed towards the window. My hands balled into fists, my back rigid, my jaw clenched, and I remained that way, staring at the failing sun until Nancy answered.

“I’m not sure.” Her voice trembled.

She was afraid of me, or what I might do. Hell, I couldn’t blame her. I turned and left the room without looking at her, my stride slow but confident. Her footsteps followed me down the long hallway leading away from the infirmary, then instead of turning off into another direction they persisted, a few feet behind, as I made my way to the temporary room I had shared with Zack. I’d slowly woven through the memories in my cluttered brain and remembered leaving my rifle there after returning to change clothes before lunch.

“Kasey, what are you going to do?” she asked once we were inside and safe from strangers’ ears.

I took my rifle from the rack behind the door and started loading it, then slung it over my shoulder and grabbed my ammo box. It was a big metal thing, an impulse buy at the army surplus store, but easy enough to carry if that was all you had to lug around. I slipped my left hand into the handle and swung it up onto my shoulder, resting it like Santa’s bag of toys, and finally made eye contact with Nancy.

“I want you to find Jake and Mia. Tell them to get their gear and meet me in the Control Room. Then I want you to find Gus and feed him for me. Please take care of him, I won’t be back for a while.” I started past her but she jumped in front of me like she’d been bitten in the ass by something.

“What do you mean, you won’t be back?” she asked. The look on her face struck me funny; I guess I wasn’t expecting her to take my order the way she had.

“No, Nancy, I’m not leaving. No. I’m going to the wall. That’s all, just going to keep watch. Okay?”

“Kasey?” Her voice caught me before I closed the door.

“Yeah?” I replied, my free hand on the doorknob and one foot in the hall. Nancy fidgeted and looked at the floor a moment, then sighed again.

“Michael’s got a few of his men working on…well, they’re outside digging…hell…” she struggled, fresh tears filling her eyes.

“Yeah, I know. When they’re ready, I’ll be there,” I said, then pulled the door shut and hurried down the hall.

* * *

The courtyard was alive with activity, the most I’d seen since arriving here. I quickly glanced around to all the rooftops and to the wall on my way to the Control Room, and came to the conclusion that every watchman from every shift had been called out to work. That struck me as odd and a bit foolish; who would relieve them when they eventually became so tired they couldn’t see through their scopes? It occurred to me this might’ve been one of Warden Harvel’s ideas. I’d find out soon enough.

Having a one-track mind such as folk bent on revenge tend to have, I threw the door open and strode right up to Shirley’s desk. There were at least half a dozen people in the Control Room, all going about different tasks. Doing an inventory of weapons and ammunition, going through a skills list for the folks living here, reassigning jobs for everyone until the “current situation” was resolved, etc. No one seemed to notice me on the other side of the glass until I shifted my ammo box around, lowered it from my shoulder, and let it hit the floor with a bang. That got their attention.

“Kasey! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you come in,” Shirley said after a moment of obvious silence. Her words seemed to signal everyone else to get back to what they were doing, or else they’d all heard what had happened and were simply trying to appear busy to keep from looking too uncomfortable.

I didn’t really give a shit either way.

“Who do I need to talk to about getting assigned to watch duty?” I asked. I thought about just going to Michael and getting the go-ahead, except something in me really wanted a confrontation with the Warden. Probably not wise, but it would’ve made me feel a little better.

“Yes, of course. Hold on a second, I saw it here a minute ago.” She leafed through the papers she held in her hand. Why were these people so obsessed with lists?

“Here it is. You’ve already been assigned to the wall. Jake has been assigned to the west building, and Mia to the east. You’ll let them know for me? It’s a little crazy here at the moment,” she said with a faint smile.

“Yeah, I noticed. Sure, I’ll let them know.” I bent over and lifted the ammo box back onto my shoulder, then turned on my heel to leave.

I kicked the front door open with my boot and breathed deeply. The noise inside muffled to a drone once the door clicked shut, and was replaced by various thuds, hammerings, and poundings coming from around the complex. People were busy fortifying the already fortress-like prison, reinforcing the huge front gate in the wall, and otherwise scurrying about doing needless tasks, probably in an attempt to make themselves feel better, more secure. Or simply following through with orders from the Warden. As long as it kept everyone busy and out of the way of what really needed to be done, I didn’t really care.

I turned my attention away from all the busy work and headed towards the makeshift staircase that was built into the wall near the gate. There were several snipers already in position up top, but I could see a few gaps that would allow room for more. Just as I was about to start up the wooden stairs, someone shouted my name.

“Hey, Kasey!” Jake yelled.

I turned to see him and Mia running to catch up, each with a rifle and a backpack I assumed was loaded with ammo. At least I hoped it was packed with ammo. I sighed and waited, annoyed and growing more impatient by the second. All I wanted to do was sit down with my rifle and watch for deadheads. Not talk, not bullshit around. Was that too much to ask for?

“Hey,” Jake said again, panting by the time they got to the staircase.

Mia offered a smile, which I did not return, while Jake wiped his forehead and thumped his chest a couple of times. I looked on with a frown, making no attempt to cover my restlessness.

“You’re assigned to the west building for watch duty. Mia, you’re on the east building. I’ll see both of you later, either at supper or…” I let the sentence hang, hoping they both knew I was talking about Zack’s funeral.

They looked at each other, both faces a mix between a grimace and a frown. I turned and started up the stairs before either had a chance to continue the conversation, which had already gone on too long as far as I was concerned. I knew they were still standing there, looking up at me, by the time I reached the top, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t, not yet. I needed quiet and a task that was second nature to me. Sitting on a stone wall with a rifle was the closest thing to that at the time.

The wall itself was roughly ten feet thick, which gave plenty of elbow room along the top. The outer edge was bordered by a ledge three feet high. Short enough to allow a full view of the area, but tall enough to keep someone sitting there from accidentally falling off. It also came in pretty handy as a gun rest for those of us unlucky enough to not have a shooting bench. Since I was new here and a last minute addition to the rotation, I was one of those unlucky few. But it wasn’t so bad. I was given a reasonably comfortable chair to sit in, and the ledge was just the perfect height for someone vertically challenged, such as myself. All I had to do was attach my bipods to the end of my rifle and I was set. A crude shooting bench, but I’d shot from worse positions before.

The sniper in charge, John something or other, positioned me on the far end, opposite the stairway. I got a few head bobs from the others as I walked by, which I returned with curt nods of my own. I didn’t want conversation with these people, but I didn’t think outright rudeness would be wise. I dropped my ammo box next to the chair I’d been given and sat down. After adjusting the legs of my bipods to the correct height, I rested the butt of my rifle on my thigh and leaned against the brick corner on my left where the wall adjoined the west building. I felt the sniper on my right staring. Avoiding eye contact as long as I could, I hoped he or she would get the point and leave me alone. I kept my eyes on the field below and on the perimeter fence far ahead. Of course, it wasn’t long before the annoyance next to me decided to intrude upon my calm.

“You’re that chick,” the guy said. I knew immediately this wasn’t going to end well.

“Am I now?” I replied coolly.

I figured he meant the one who had brought the deadheads down on these good folks’ heads, but I was itching for a fight and wanted to bait him into pissing me off. I turned my gaze from the green grass below to the man on my right, who I instantly recognized as the Warden’s bitch. I smirked, hoping he had more to say.

“Yeah, you are. You’re the whore Warden Harvel warned me about, you and the trash you brought along.” He wore a disgusting grin on his face.

I stared at him long and hard, still smirking but now boiling over with anger. Just past his head I could see the next sniper down the line watching us, not at all happy with what he’d just heard. That sniper in turn motioned to the next, and he to the next, until John, who was all the way down at the stairway end, snapped his head in my direction. I let my smirk turn into a toothy grin, laced my fingers and rested my hands across my abdomen, then leaned completely back against the corner, as if I was catching up with an old friend.

In a way, I suppose I was.

“I don’t remember meeting you. Refresh my memory.”

My voice dripped with sarcasm as thick as infected mucus. Unfortunately this idiot was too stupid to recognize when someone was being a smartass. Apparently I’d have to work harder to provoke him.

“Yeah? This morning. In the Warden’s office. Oh yeah, I definitely remember that sweet ass of yours now.”

I was going to have to do something about this.

“You know what?” I narrowed my eyes, pretending to be having some sort of revelation. “I think I did walk in on you and the Warden this morning. But c’mon, there’s no way you could’ve seen me.” He was seriously trying to remember the bullshit I was feeding him, so I continued. “No, now I remember.” I snapped my fingers. “You couldn’t see me ‘cause you had your face buried in the Warden’s nuts.”

I snorted when his face twisted with hate. The sniper on the other side of this idiot laughed too, but tried to stifle it as best he could. A few of the others down the line were smiling; it was obvious no one liked this asshole and was glad to see him getting back what he dished out.

“What’s wrong, Warden got your tongue?” I egged him on, wanting him to react. Hit me, pull a gun on me, anything. I was past caring. His anger was fueled by his embarrassment, knowing the others were watching the new girl make a fool out of him.

“You just keep talking, whore.” His voice lowered to a hiss. “You think you’re safe here? Just wait ‘til you’re not on this wall, then we’ll have a little fun.”

I rolled my eyes dramatically and laid a hand on my chest. “Oh no, please don’t hurt me.” I suddenly leaned closer to him and clenched my jaw. “You just
try
it. Oh
please
give me a reason to blow your cocksucking face off.” Then I spat at his feet.

The sniper on his other side stiffened, but kept his eyes glued on me. The idiot’s eyes grew wide and his cheeks flushed red. He drew back from me like I’d slapped him, his hand reaching for his sidearm.

“You worthless cu─” he began, but was cut short by a barrel pressed between his eyes.

The sniper behind him jumped to his feet. All down the line the others ceased their chuckling, shocked by the quick turn of events. I pressed harder and stared at the man in front of me. I noticed John come striding along the wall, one hand on his own pistol, the other wrapped around his radio. I took a breath and bent close before John could arrive to break us up.

“Do it.”

Harvel’s man stared back, all color having drained from his face. His eyes flicked to his gun hand. I could almost read his thoughts.
Am I fast enough? Can I beat her?

The short answer was no and he knew it.

“Come on, you chickenshit. Draw your weapon.”

Crimson flooded his cheeks and I saw something change in his eyes. Something snapping inside.

He’s actually going to try it.

“What the hell’s the problem here?!” John had arrived. He jabbed a thick finger at me. “Holster that piece! And you,” he kicked the bitch’s chair, “get that hand away from that grip and get the
fuck
off my wall!”