The Bones of Valhalla (Purge of Babylon, Book 9) (27 page)

* * *

L
ara and Danny
went back to the
Trident
,
but instead of going with them, Keo decided to stay behind and wander the halls of Black Tide even though it was well after three in the morning. He had never really had much luck getting shut-eye the night before a big assignment, and this was definitely the biggest he had ever been given by a long shot.

“See the world. Kill some people. Make some money.”

That was the old motto, for a simpler time. Which was funny to think of them as that, but looking back, everything was so much more black and white when he was pulling the trigger for the organization. Nowadays he was coming up with mission plans and volunteering for work that no one was going to pay him a single dime for, and if he were to not come back, probably only a few people would even care.

Lara would be one of them. Maybe Danny too, and Lorelei. He would have been able to add Carrie and Bonnie to that list, once upon a time, but that wasn’t possible anymore.

Rhett’s people had done a great job cleaning the hallways after the running firefight yesterday. Except for the area around the command wing, the rest of the buildings looked almost untouched, and he wouldn’t have known a shootout had taken place if he hadn’t been right in the middle of it.

It was late, and he hadn’t stumbled across a single soul until he reached the civilian section. There, a man and a woman were engaged in quiet conversation when he turned the corner. As he walked past them, the woman followed him with her eyes.

He was almost at the other end of the corridor when she finally said, “Hey.”

Keo stopped and glanced back.

“You’re Keo,” the woman said.

“Who?” Keo said.

“Keo. The guy who killed Mercer.”

“Wrong guy.”

“You sure?”

“I’d know my own name.”

“What is your name?”

“Ken.”

She clearly didn’t believe him. “Where’d you get all of that, Ken?” she asked, making a circle in front of her face with her hand.

“Went for a swim and jumped smack into a pile of rocks.”

“Really.”

“Uh huh. It’s dangerous out there, so you guys might want to be careful when you’re skinny dipping later on tonight.”

He turned and went around the corner.

“That was him,” he heard the woman say.

“He said it wasn’t him,” the man said.

“Seriously? Who gets those scars from jumping into the ocean?”

Keo smiled to himself and kept going.

* * *

T
he infirmary door was closed
, but not locked. There were no guards standing outside, but there were bloodstains on the floor and walls from the last time someone had tried to kill him. He guessed Rhett’s people hadn’t gotten around to cleaning up this part of the facility yet.

He opened the door and leaned in, then took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the semidarkness. A single stream of moonlight splashed in from the high window, and Keo could just make out the figures occupying the beds. The wounded from this morning’s coup attempt.

A figure sitting at a desk turned around. Male, wearing a white coat, and not who Keo was hoping to find.

“Help you?” the man asked.

“I’m looking for Mary.”

“Her shift was up three hours ago.”

“Communal quarters?”

“She has her own room now.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know which one, would you?”

The man squinted through the darkness at him. “Do I know you?”

“Keo.”

The man chuckled. “I should have known with that face.”

Keo sighed. “You got a number for me or not, pal?”

* * *

“
W
hat time is it
?” Mary asked when he knocked on her door and she opened it and peered out, blinking rapidly against the hallway light.

The room behind her was darkened, but it was the exact same décor as Mercer’s had been the night Keo came for him. He guessed every single private quarter in the place was identical, with a small bed in the rear and very little in the way of aesthetics.

More importantly, a quick glance inside the room didn’t reveal a second figure.

Half-asleep or not, Mary noticed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m alone.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Uh huh.”

“Gary?”

“So you came here looking for Gary?”

He smiled. “No.”

She took a step back and held the door open for him. “Wanna come in?”

“Yes, please.”

“Just to sleep.”

“I’m insulted you think I’m here for anything but.”

She smirked and closed the door behind him.

“Nice place,” Keo said. “The guy at the infirmary told me you just moved in.”

“A lot of the private quarters opened up after this afternoon, and they let me choose one. I guess being one of a handful of people who know their way around a wound helps. Though I wouldn’t have had the opportunity if it weren’t for you.”

The cot squeaked as he sat down. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” She walked over. “I don’t know who it used to belong to, but he was a Mercer loyalist. I found his black armband hiding under the pillow.” She sat down next to him and yawned. “I’m really tired, Keo. It’s been a long day.”

“Then you should go back to sleep.”

“You staying?”

“It’s an awfully small bed.”

“We’ll make it work.”

She lay down on her side and turned her back to him. Keo followed her lead, and she scooted over until their bodies were pressed front to back.

“Keo,” she said. “Go to sleep.”

“I didn’t say or do anything.”

“I can feel little Keo stirring.”

“Little?”

“Tame him now, or you’ll be sleeping on that very hard floor.”

“Speaking of hard—”

“Keo!”

“All right, all right,” he said. “Sleep only.”

She reached back and patted his hands, and he slid them around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. He inhaled her scent, and even though he knew she had been much too busy today to take a shower, he couldn’t fathom how she could still smell so wonderful.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she whispered, not sounding nearly as tired as she had seconds ago.

“I thought you wanted to sleep?”

“Answer the question.”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“That’s only a few hours from now.”

“Uh huh.”

“I heard not a lot of people volunteered.”

“Enough did.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re one of them.”

“I am.”

“Why you?”

“Why not me?”

She didn’t answer right away, and he could feel the slight rise and fall of her heartbeat even from behind. Finally, she said, “You’re crazy. You’re all crazy. After everything Mercer put us through, to jump right back into another fight so soon…”

“This might be the last one we ever have to fight. That’s worth a little risk, isn’t it?”

“That’s the problem, Keo…”

“What is?”

“You know why there are wars with Roman numerals in human history?”

“Crazy Germans?”

“No, because they’re leaving room for more. Because there will never be a ‘war to end all wars.’ There will just be sequels. That’s why they put Roman numerals at the end of wars.”

Keo didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. He’d never been much of a historian—staying alive one day at a time, one gig at a time, had always been more important than what some old guys did before he was born.

But he had to admit, Mary made a good point. Did he really think this was going to be the end of the struggle? Even if, by some miracle, Frank’s plan actually worked out the way he said it would, would there be no more wars for him to fight? No more skirmishes to survive? No more bad guys
(Haha, look who’s calling other people bad guys now. Cute.)
for him to nip in the bud?

“Go to sleep,” Mary whispered, the tiredness returning to her voice. “You’ll need all the rest you can get.”

He closed his eyes and felt her body relaxing even further against him as she dozed off moments later.

Keo followed ten minutes after that.

In his dreams, there was asphalt and bullets and blood. In the middle of it all were pulsating blue eyes, so blue and bright that it was like staring into the sun itself…

T
his is
what you get for ditching Nate. This is your punishment. And you deserve it. Every stinky chunk of it.

She sighed as one foot and then the other sank into the thick, muddy water.

No, not water. Not even close
to water. She
wished
it were water.

For a second she was afraid she would keep sinking, that the unholy mess
(That’s a nice word for it)
would just swallow her up, but the liquids finally settled around her knees even though the ripples extended farther out and bumped harmlessly against the brick walls around her.

I can’t believe I’m down here. This is so disgusting.

Even with the mask firmly in place over the lower half of her face, the still-exposed parts of her skin tingled against the tainted air. She concentrated on regulating her breathing
(In and out, in and out)
and focused on seeing the world in a sea of green provided by the night-vision goggles. The extra effort helped to keep her mind distracted, and for just a second or two she almost managed to convince herself she wasn’t standing knee-high in a sea of year-old waste.

Year-old? God, I hope it’s only a year old.

Her heart was racing at double its normal speed, and she could hear every single breath she took like aftershocks against her earlobes. She snapped her eyes shut and fought for control, willing herself to slow down, to let the mask’s filter do its work, and pretend she was somewhere else at that moment.

“Gaby.”

She opened her eyes to the sound of Blaine’s voice behind and slightly above her. “Yeah.”

“You went quiet there for a moment.”

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“What’s the verdict down there?”

“It stinks. What do you think?”

Blaine chuckled. “I’m coming down.”

“The more the merrier.”

She took a couple of steps forward and swept the narrow passageway with the M4, the laser pointer underneath the barrel providing an exact guide of where the bullet would go if she fired. She tuned out the
clank-clank
of Blaine’s boots moving down the rusted metal ladder behind her while getting a better look at her surroundings.

The only saving grace to standing in a major city’s sewer system was the size—the round-shaped tunnel was over ten feet wide and tall, like a giant straw made of brick and concrete, except the floor was flat against the soles of her boots. Condensation
drip-drip-dripped
around her, the
plops
that landed adding to the filth like drawn-out raindrops. Despite the generous size of the place, she would have still felt a stab of claustrophobia if not for the fact she could see every crack and puddle of water thanks to the NVG.

“Sorry, kid,” Blaine said when he hopped the last rung behind her and splashed parts of her clothing with the water.

“It’s okay; I can’t smell it.”

“You sure about that? Even with this thing on, I’m getting some serious whiffs.”

“Sure? No, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

Blaine chuckled again, and she smiled. The levity helped to ease her mind somewhat. She remembered all those times when Danny and Will joked their way through a bad situation. This definitely qualified as one of those, though no one was shooting at them and
there was nothing hiding in the darkness.

There you go. Jinx it, why don’t you?

“Where did he go?” Blaine asked.

He
had gone on ahead of them after coming down first and ensuring there was nothing waiting down here. The last time she saw him was almost two minutes ago when he disappeared around a bend in the tunnel in front of her.

“Scouting ahead,” she said.

“He’s good at that.”

“It’s what he does.”

“I should have spent more time with you guys back on the island. One of my biggest regrets.”

“You can always ask Danny when we get back. He’s already training Jolly.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Blaine said.

Soft sloshing sounds from in front of her broke through their chatter, and Gaby lifted her rifle, as did Blaine, who had moved to stand beside her. She sneaked a quick look over at him, at the single lens protruding out from in front of his face like a freakishly long third eye, complemented by the breathing apparatus over his mouth. The only thing on Blaine’s face (and hers) that was still exposed to the climate was his forehead, and it was already damp with something that looked like dirt and soot and…other things.

Her finger tightened against her carbine’s trigger, and she thanked God for silver bullets when he appeared around the bend, his movements so light and effortless that if not for the trench coat, she didn’t think he would have created any ripples in the water at all. Gaby still couldn’t decide how to feel about seeing him in that black leather getup, with the hoodie covering most of his face and those glowing blue eyes peeking out at her.

He carried the remaining duffel bag—the heavier of the two—behind his back as if it weighed little more than a feather. They had left the other bag behind since she and Blaine were now wearing its contents.

Gaby lowered her rifle. “Anything?”

“Nothing,” he said
(hissed)
.

“How far?” Blaine asked.

“Far enough,” he said, and turned back around.

Gaby exchanged a quick look with Blaine, but all she could see was his NVG lens staring back at her. He looked a bit like a bipedal insect, albeit one with a rifle.

“Ladies first,” Blaine said.

Will had begun moving again, and she fell in behind him. Blaine carried the radio in his pack, the bulk making him look like a hunchback. If he was having trouble with the extra weight, he hadn’t said a word.

The mask that covered her mouth had a fleece portion that extended all the way down the length of her neck. It was comfortable enough to wear for long periods (and it was going to have to be) and although she told Blaine she couldn’t smell the (mostly) liquefied waste around her, it was very much a lie. There was simply too much of it to ignore completely, and it probably didn’t help that her eyes had begun to sting and the exposed parts of her face continued to tingle, a constant reminder of where she was.

God, if I never have to do this again in a hundred lifetimes…

She picked up her pace until she had caught up to Will. From behind, with the trench coat dragging over the water’s surface, she wouldn’t have been able to tell that he wasn’t the Will she remembered. Even his hands were covered in tight black gloves, and there was absolutely nothing about him to give away that he wasn’t human. At least, from the back. Every now and then she heard the distinctive
clanking
of the objects inside the duffel bag slung over his back.

“Will,” she said.

He didn’t answer verbally and didn’t stop, but she caught a slight turn of his head in response.

“Why aren’t they down here?” she asked. “It’s pitch-dark. Sunlight doesn’t even know this place exists.”

“They don’t need it,” he said. “The city is theirs.”

So even the monsters don’t want to come down here. So what does that make us, exactly?

Filthy, that’s what.

He didn’t say anything else, and the only sounds were her breathing and the
drip-drip-drip
around them. After a while, he pulled slightly ahead of her.

She slowed her pace until Blaine caught up. “Is it me, or is he going slow on purpose?” Blaine asked.

“Maybe,” she said. “But if he wanted us to move faster, I’m sure he would have said so.”

“Any idea where we’re going, exactly? Which part of the city?”

“He didn’t say. I guess we’ll find out when we get there.”

Blaine sighed. “If I knew we were going to be down here literally walking in people’s shit, I’m not sure I would have volunteered. What about you?”

“I probably would have still.”

“Yeah, who am I kidding? I would have, too.”

“I guess we’re both idiots.”

“Yup.”

They walked on in silence, the filthy water displacing and reforming around them and, gradually, she became aware of what sounded like animals moving on the other side of cracks along the walls. Condensation continued to
drip-drip-drip
in front and behind them, and the only thing louder than her filtered breathing was the
thump-thump-thump
of her heartbeat.

“If this works, you think they’ll give us medals?” Blaine said after a while. “Maybe write songs about us?”

“Songs?” she said, smiling behind the mask.

“I’d like a song about me,” Blaine said wistfully. “That would be cool…”

* * *

S
he wasn’t
sure how long after they climbed down into the sewer system that she started to notice the air had gotten warmer and sweat was starting to form around her temple and drip down the corners of the NVG and mask. It was so quiet down here, with the only sounds coming from their breathing and movements—and the occasional scratching noises from behind the curved walls—that it was difficult to tell how much time had passed.

Gaby snapped a quick look at her watch every now and then, but time seemed to be standing still and didn’t explain why her legs were getting tired and she was moving slower. She didn’t fully grasp just how much her pace had flagged until Will began putting more distance between them, even though he didn’t seem to be moving any faster than before. If anything, he was holding back just to ensure he didn’t outwalk her and Blaine.

She wanted to ask him to stop so she could rest, but she didn’t. She refused to do so because Blaine wasn’t complaining, and he was carrying more pounds on his back than she was. But at least there was one benefit to her growing fatigue: her shoulder wasn’t giving her any problems, either thanks to having numbed over or the result of Zoe’s painkillers. She wasn’t going to be throwing softball pitches with her left arm anytime soon, but this was the next best thing.

Finally, Will began to slow down before stopping completely ten feet in front of them.

Gaby said a silent prayer, but also reflexively tightened her grip around the carbine. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Will said. “We should rest.”

“Are we almost there?”

“No.” He pointed to his right. “I’ll be back.”

He continued on, disappearing around another turn in the tunnel.

Gaby walked over and glanced at where he had pointed. It was another raised platform carved into the side of the tunnel, about five inches above the water line, similar to their original point of entry. There was also a rust-covered ladder at the back.

“Where’s he headed off to?” Blaine asked as he appeared next to her.

“He didn’t say.”

“So he can see in the dark, huh?”

“You didn’t know that?”

“I figured they had good night eyes—because, you know, that’s their natural environment and everything—but I didn’t know it was that
good.”

“Now you know,” Gaby said, and climbed up the platform.

Once up, she was reaching instinctively for her mask when she stopped herself just in time.

Right. The sewage.

She kept the mask on but took off the night-vision goggles. There was just enough light inside the tunnel to see the thick films of filth dripping from her pants legs. She didn’t even want to think about how badly she was going to smell for days to come, or how many showers it was going to take just to get enough of the stench off her to be bearable to herself, never mind to others. She pictured Nate laughing at her discomfort, her punishment for leaving him behind in the middle of the night.

She walked all the way to the back of the narrow platform and glanced up at the manhole covering above them. It was sealed tight, but there were small holes (for fingers or tools to remove the metal lid, if necessary) all along it that allowed slivers of morning sunlight to rain down on them, but not enough to brighten the tunnel.

Blaine unslung his pack and let out a loud sigh of relief as he settled on the damp concrete floor next to her. Like her, he reached for his mask, but thought better of it and left it on, and only removed his NVG. She sat down next to him and didn’t know how tired her legs were until she wasn’t standing on them anymore.

“You think he told us to rest because he knew we were tired?” Blaine asked.

“Maybe. Were you tired?”

“Hell yeah. My legs are killing me. But at least I’m not lugging around that thing he has over his back. I didn’t know he was that strong, either.”

“They all are.” She thought about the farmhouse in Louisiana. “And fast. You need to remember that if you ever come face-to-face with one of them.”

“How fast?”

“However fast you’ve made them out to be in your mind, increase it by a hundred times and you’ll come close.”

“You’re kidding…”

“No.”

“Noted, then.” Blaine leaned his head back against the wall and shook his pants legs and watched the thick sludge dripping off the fabric. “You’ve seen them—fought them. What’s it like?”

“It’s…not something I want to ever do again, if I can help it.”

“Silver doesn’t do anything, but a bullet to the head is all it takes?”