The Fires of Atlantis (Purge of Babylon, Book 4) (6 page)

H
e felt
the heat building inside the cellar with the morning, and small slivers of sunlight flitted through the barricade in front of him when he opened his eyes. Not much light, just enough to illuminate parts of the room.

He sat up and soaked in the peace and quiet of a waking world. The birds had already begun chirping, and Will thought about Lara, about waking up next to her and wishing he were there now instead of sitting inside a room literally dug out of the ground.

After about an hour of tranquility, he stood up and woke Danny, who had been sleeping soundlessly next to him.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Danny said. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Beef jerky.”

“That’s what we had yesterday.”

“Ain’t life grand?”

“I could have stayed on the island and eaten pancakes. Speaking of which, you know what else Sarah found in the kitchen freezer?”

“What’s that?”

“Jimmy Hoffa. Turns out he was in there this whole time.”

“You don’t say.”

“I just did. Sheesh. You never listen.” Danny looked over at Kellerson, sleeping awkwardly on his side across from them. “Should we wake up Sleeping Beauty?”

Will looked at Kellerson for a moment. He had been thinking about what to do with the collaborator for some time now and had even devoted one of his two-hour awake times last night just to mull over the question. The possibilities were endless. Some were bloody, others were cruel, and there were a few merciful options in there, too. Each time he had to weigh the lives Kellerson had taken against the man’s fate…all the bodies Will knew about, and all the ones he didn’t…

Finally, Will said, “We should put him out of his misery. He’s already served his purpose.”

“Kinda rude to just kill the guy after he’s been so helpful,” Danny said. “But hey, you know what they say about karma and bitches and all that good stuff.”

Will was reaching for his Glock in its hip holster when a faint noise from outside the cellar drew his attention.

“You heard that?” Danny said.

“Yeah,” Will said. He moved toward the doors and began removing the barrier they had put up there last night.

The noise they had both heard was a faint wet
pop
sound, something they wouldn’t have detected eleven months ago when the world was still alive.

As he and Danny were throwing cinderblocks out of their path, they heard it again. This time it wasn’t a single sound, but a continuous rattling
pop-pop-pop.
They knew exactly what it was and where it was coming from.

Behind them. L15.

Gunshots.

S
he stood
next to the door, just out of the path of the sunlight pouring across the length of the room through the open window. Her back was pressed against the wall, and Gaby willed her breathing into slow beats to allow her senses to concentrate on what was outside the second floor at this very moment.

Mac was out there again, moving around loudly. He might as well be stomping cockroaches in boots. The man would be carrying his usual gear, including the AK-47, a belt with full ammo pouches, and a sidearm.

“First light. Be ready.”

It was first light, but no one had come.

Not Milly the girl or her accomplice. She knew Milly wasn’t working alone because of the first note she had received:
“If we help you escape, will you take us with you?”

The “we” was the dead giveaway.
If
this was real. She didn’t put it past Josh to play games with her, though that was a worst-case scenario. There was no reason for Josh to deceive her now. Not after he had won. She was locked inside a room and not allowed to leave for any reason except to use the bathroom. In every way that mattered, she was at his mercy, so it was doubtful he would stoop so low as to mess with her head.

No, this wasn’t some elaborate trick. It had to be real.

Probably.

She wished she had a weapon, something that could break bone—or at least puncture skin. She had her hands, but it wasn’t nearly as easy to incapacitate someone with your fists as the movies made it out to be. She had learned that the hard way during sparring sessions with Will and Danny. Regardless of what kind of an advantage she had over a man, when it came to hand-to-hand fighting, she was still shorter, smaller, and weaker than her opponent. Girl power be damned, she would rather have a weapon.

Gaby glanced down at her watch: 7:36 a.m.

More than twenty minutes since the sun rose over the tree lines
(“first light”)
and bathed the town in a welcoming orange glow. To look at it, you wouldn’t know L15 was a town built on lies and desperation—

Voices, coming from the hallway outside.

About time.

Gaby slid closer to the door, leaving just a foot of space between her and the hinges, the doorknob on the other side. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with socks but no shoes. Josh hadn’t responded to her requests for shoes. Just another way to control her, to keep her at his mercy. He was good at that these days.

“Already?” a male voice said.
Mac.

“I gotta go do something after this,” a soft female voice answered.
Milly.
There was a hint of anxiousness. Gaby hoped Mac didn’t notice.

“Like what?” Mac said.

“What do you care?” Milly countered.

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“I’m just saying, if I don’t give her her breakfast now, I won’t be around for another couple of hours. Peter’s got me busy today.”

“Okay, whatever,” Mac said. “Hurry up.”

The familiar sound of the deadbolt sliding, then the doorknob turning. A second later the door opened, followed by something hard and plastic
clattering
against the floor. She recognized the sound. It was one of the food trays.

“What—” she heard Mac start to say a split-second before Milly backpedaled through the open door, fumbling with a handgun in her small hands.

Oh, hell,
this
is the plan?

Mac was moving quickly through the door after Milly, reaching one hand out toward her. “Give that back to me, kid. What are you doing? Are you crazy? Give that back to me!”

He was so concerned with Milly—no, about
his gun in her hands
—that he didn’t do his usual due diligence. He didn’t look around to make sure she wasn’t lying in wait for him.

Now now now!

Gaby pushed herself off the wall and had gotten one step toward Mac—the sound of her bare feet pulling Mac’s eye away from Milly and over to her—but neither one of them managed to do anything before a fourth body slammed into Mac from behind. Arms snaked around Mac’s waist as the new figure’s head buried itself into the small of the guard’s back. The whole thing was so awkwardly executed that Gaby actually found herself staring in astonishment.

Mac let out a loud surprised grunt as he was thrown forward by the surprise attack. He slammed into the wooden footboard of the bed with his stomach and bent over awkwardly at the waist, the AK-47 slung over his shoulder swinging wildly around him. He attempted to right himself when the other man hit him in the back of the head with a brown maple wood rolling pin, swinging the kitchen object like some kind of hammer, and
thwack!

Another burst of pained sounds sprung from Mac’s mouth as he slumped forward again, his body draping over the bed’s footboard. The attacker staggered back, gasping for breath, while Milly stood nearby holding the handgun, looking impossibly frightened.

Gaby took a step forward and the attacker whirled on her, rolling pin rising to strike. Gaby ignored him and made a beeline for Mac. She grabbed the AK-47 and pulled it free. A small pool of blood had clumped at the back of Mac’s head, and he didn’t fight her as she took his rifle away.

The man and Milly were looking at her, their labored breathing filling the room as if they had just run a marathon. The man was in his mid-thirties and tall. He wore slacks and a T-shirt, but what got her attention was the Garfield apron around his waist. He opened his mouth as if to say something but ended up just sucking in more air instead.

Gaby held out her hand to Milly and the girl anxiously gave up the handgun. It was an automatic, almost entirely stainless steel except for a strip of laminated wood along the grip.
Smith & Wesson SW1911TA
was engraved along the side. It looked a hell of a lot more expensive than the Glocks she had been trained on, and she wondered where Mac had gotten something that fancy.

“What now?” the man said, his eyes focused on her. She couldn’t tell if he looked disappointed or confused. “Jesus, I thought you’d be older.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said.

“I didn’t mean—I just thought—”

“That I’d be older. I got it. Close the door,” she said to Milly.

The girl stepped over the plastic tray and the spilled food and closed the door. Gaby grabbed Mac and hauled him off the footboard, dropping him to the floor on his back. Dull, pained eyes stared up at her, but if she was afraid Mac would fight, she didn’t have to be. It was entirely possible he wasn’t even seeing her at the moment. He was alive, if barely, because she could still hear him breathing.

“What are you doing?” the man asked behind her.

She didn’t bother to answer him. Instead, she unclasped Mac’s gun belt and pulled it off, along with the holster and ammo pouches. She cinched it around her waist and instantly felt better with the weight. These last few days, walking around without weapons was like being naked in front of the world. The Smith & Wesson slid easily into the hip holster, and though it didn’t have silver bullets in the magazine, it was better than no ammo.

“How many of you are there?” she asked, busying herself with Mac’s boots. He was a few inches taller than her and she expected his boots to be a little larger as a result, but she was surprised when they fit her as well as they did.

“Just us,” the man said. “What are you doing now?”

“Stop asking stupid questions,” she snapped. “You know what I’m doing.”

Gaby pulled off Mac’s camouflage jacket and slipped it on. It was slightly big around the shoulders, but luckily Mac wasn’t fat. She took off his watch and put it on her wrist.

“Maybe I should take the rifle,” the man said.

“You know how to use one of these?” she asked.

“How hard could it be?”

“Right. I’ll keep the rifle.”

She got up and walked over to the door and opened it just a crack. She looked out at the empty second-floor hallway with Milly standing next to her, eyeing her curiously.

“Where is everyone?” she asked the girl.

“At work,” Milly said.

“Work?”

“Everyone has assigned work details,” the man said. “I work in the kitchen downstairs, and Milly is the server girl.”

“Hostess,” Milly said.

The man smiled. “Sorry. Hostess.”

She glanced back at the two of them. There wasn’t much of a resemblance, so she crossed out father and daughter. Not brother and sister, either.

“I’m Peter,” the man said, holding out his hand.

She shook it. “Gaby.”

“Milly told me. How are we getting out of here, Gaby?”

She stared at him for a moment. “You don’t know?”

He shook his head. “We were hoping you might have a plan.”

“Are you serious? You’re the ones who are supposed to be rescuing me, not the other way around.”

Milly and Peter exchanged a look.

“Never mind,” Gaby said. “Tell me about the town. How many collaborators are here?”

“Collaborators?” Peter said.

“The guys in the uniforms with guns.”

“Oh.” He thought about it. “Seven. Four left yesterday, but four more came with the new group of arrivals.”

“Is that too many?” Milly asked eagerly, still watching her face closely.

Gaby shook her head. “No. Seven is doable.”

I hope…

T
hey were keeping
her in a bed-and-breakfast just as she had guessed. That accounted for all the rooms on the second floor. According to Peter, except for her, everyone came and went as they pleased, though the building was reserved for singles.

Milly and Peter had their own rooms, and they disappeared inside them while Gaby stood watch at the top of the stairs. The first floor below her was empty, with everyone having already left for their “jobs.” Peter was still around because he worked in the kitchen while Milly assisted him.

“It sort of worked out perfectly for us,” Peter had said. “Besides Mac, there won’t be anyone here to stop us from leaving.”

“What about outside?” she had asked. “Where are all the other guards?”

“Walking around most of the time. You probably already know this, but this isn’t exactly a prison. They’re not going to stop anyone from leaving. Well, except you.”

Gaby had seen the way Peter looked at her more than once. He had questions, but he had (smartly) decided to keep them to himself for now. He didn’t really have the look of a chef, but then most of the people around L15 were probably doing things they didn’t think they would be doing before The Purge. She certainly had no idea she would be sneaking around a bed-and-breakfast with an AK-47.

Milly and Peter came back a few minutes later, both carrying large backpacks. Too large.

“What’s in there?” Gaby asked.

“Clothes,” Milly said. “And other stuff.”

“What kind of other stuff?”

“Deodorant, tooth paste, toothbrush…”

“Get rid of the clothes.”

“Why?”

“Take only what you need.”

“But I need my clothes,” Milly said.

“Get rid of the clothes,” Gaby said again.

Milly sighed and went back into her room.

Peter looked after the girl, then over at Gaby. “I, uh, just have socks and underwear. And some personal stuff.”

She nodded. “That’s fine.”

“How old are you, anyway?” he asked. She guessed that was one of the questions that had been swirling around in his head since they met.

“Old enough,” she said.

“I thought you’d be older.”

“You said that already.” Gaby glanced over as Milly came back out of her room with a noticeably lighter backpack. “Is there a back door?” she asked Peter.

He nodded and moved to take the lead, but she put a hand on his arm.

“I’ll go first,” she said, stepping ahead of him. “Just tell me where to go.”

“Down the stairs, turn right into the back hallway,” Peter said.

She moved down the stairs, the rifle in front of her. She didn’t particularly like the AK-47, but she knew how to use it. Although she was more familiar with the M4, there were other rifles on the island she had trained on over the months. Will always told her it was fine to have a favorite, but not at the risk of being ignorant of the rest.

As Peter promised, there was no one on the first floor. The emptiness made her nervous, with the main entrance looming in front of her. She glimpsed two figures standing across the street, both wearing camo uniforms similar to the ones Mac and Lance wore and the jacket she had on now. The uniforms made it easier to pick them out from the civilians. The last thing she wanted was to shoot someone who was just trying to survive the end of the world. The ones with guns, on the other hand…well, she could live with putting them down.

She turned right and led Milly and Peter into the back hallway. They followed (too) closely
behind and made too much noise. There was a door at the end, sunlight filtering in through a security window. She reached it and looked out, past the sidewalk and at the buildings across the street. Large trees encircled the town in the near distance. Figures—men and women, and some children—moved along the sidewalks.

She looked back at Peter, then Milly. They were watching her anxiously.

“We’re going to walk out of here like we belong,” she said. “Act normally. Walk normally.
You belong here.
Don’t draw attention to yourselves, but don’t look away from anyone, either. Got it?”

They nodded back.

“If anyone calls your name, respond,” Gaby continued. “You’re doing what you’re supposed to do—going about your business.”

“Okay,” Peter said.

“Got it,” Milly nodded.

“I don’t see any vehicles except the ones the guards drive,” she said to Peter.

“There aren’t that many still left in town,” Peter said. “There are a couple of trucks and some ATVs parked near the administrative building.”

“Can we get to them?”

“I don’t see how. Besides you, those are the only places they actually guard.”

She could see it in Peter’s eyes again. It was the question that had been going through his mind:
“What’s so special about you?”

But he didn’t voice it, and she was glad. Gaby didn’t feel like explaining her relationship with Josh. It was complicated.
“See, there’s this guy, and he’s in love with me, but he has a really screwed up way of showing it.”