This Would Be Paradise (Book 2) (14 page)

“You think that’s best?” I asked.

John hesitated. “It ain’t what I think. Them’s the rules.”

I knew John wasn’t all in with this place; he had too much sense.

“What’s with that?”

“This way they can better keep track of the guns and ammo. Less accidents. Less theft. You’d be surprised how much crime can happen when a group of people gather.”

I was about to ask if he was talking specifically about Hargrove, when the sergeant from yesterday appeared beside us.

“You ready to head out?” His voice was so loud it almost sounded like he was yelling.

“Yes I am, and we got two more to add to the trainin’ roster.”

Sergeant Grant looked us up and down as if he were assessing his troops.

“Come on then.”

“Do I need a weapon?” I asked, matching his brisk tone.

His eyes narrowed. “Yes. Go grab those rifles you mentioned and meet us back here ASAP.”

How did he hear that?

Without giving me a chance to answer, he walked off, clearly dismissing me. That made my blood boil.

“He’s a little brash,” John said with a shrug. “Don’t know many sergeants who aren’t.”

“I think the word is rude,” I corrected.

Roy had elected to stay behind, not caring whether they gave him a gun, while John and I had ridden out in one of the trucks to the location they were using as a firing range. It was a good distance away—close to two hours—to keep the noise from attracting infected toward Hargrove. I couldn’t help but think of all the gas they were burning by transporting people there and back, but I guess that was the price they paid to play it safe.

After my initial assessment with a handgun and the AR-15, Grant gave me back the M4 I’d handed over before we left, which was kind of insulting, actually—giving me back my own property.

John beamed at me like a parent at their kid’s graduation when the sergeant deemed me fit for duty—or at least fit to carry a handgun and the AR-15.

“You have the basics down, but can you shoot with a fully automatic rifle?” Sergeant Grant asked, motioning to the M4 he’d shoved into my arms.

Were all military men this pushy? John wasn’t, but then again, he’d been retired from the military for years. I would’ve taken it personally, except Grant was like that to everyone. The poor teen boy from yesterday who had been teased was back to redeem himself, and the sergeant was giving him no quarter. I swore he looked close to tears after another round of Grant shouting instructions at him.

I adjusted the sights and jammed the butt of the gun against the pocket of my shoulder. With a deep breath, I fired a burst of bullets, hitting the small target twice; I was more accurate with the AR-15. I just couldn’t control the trigger properly with the M4.

Sergeant Grant’s steely gaze burned into the back of my head. “Thought you said you could use this weapon.”

I wanted nothing more than to throw the gun down and tell Sergeant Asshole to go fuck himself, but instead, I gritted my teeth and kept at it. As I continued shooting, it seemed like the target was getting farther away, while the automatic weapon became heavier. When the gun clicked empty, I’d only managed to hit the target a handful of times.

I lowered the gun and stretched out my sore shoulder.

John walked over to me and whispered, “You need to hit the target at least fifteen times to be allowed to use the M4.”

“Well I passed the other tests, so I really don’t care,” I lied.

Sergeant Grant joined us, and I placed the M4 into his outstretched hand.

“You’re clear to use a handgun and the semiauto, but you’re not allowed to use a fully automatic,” he stated. “If you want to keep tryin’, you can join us again in a couple of days for another go.”

I hated people telling me what I could and couldn’t do. “Fine, then give me back my guns and ammo.”

Grant stared me down, a condescending smirk on his face. “
Fine
, then you can leave our community.”

I opened my mouth to give my undoubtedly super-mature retort, but John shot me a look that told me to shut up.

“Bailey, it’s fine. You can take the course next time, and I’m sure you’ll pass with flyin’ colors.”

Grant grunted and walked away with the weapons I’d given him.

“That guy is a dick!” I hissed.

John laughed. “He ain’t the friendliest of the bunch, but he’s got military trainin’ and survival skills that these people need. I think some of the population hasn’t left the gates since Wyatt started the place.”

That was exactly what I’d thought.

“You really think this place is on the up-and-up?” I asked, holding his gaze.

When he hesitated, I knew something was wrong.

“If I tell you, you have to swear you won’t go do somethin’ stupid,” John said.

“Me? Never.”

“I’m serious, Bailey.”

“All right, but the longer you take to tell me, the worse I’ll think it is.” I tapped my foot.

“There was a murder a week and a half ago in Hargrove.”

“I’m sorry, but a
what
?”

“A woman was killed in a pretty gory way. She was ripped open and her head was severed completely. We woke up early one mornin’ to find her in the middle of the street.”

“How do you know a person killed her and not an infected?”

“There was no sign of an infected on the entire block, and the body didn’t have any teeth marks on it. Plus, I ain’t never seen an infected decapitate a person. The body was cut real clean with a blade, just in a savage manner.” He paused, almost like he was stalling. “Some people suspect Darren.”

My eyebrows shot up. “What? That’s crazy! I admit I was leery of him at first, but don’t you think he would’ve done something while we were sharing a cabin with him for almost four months?”

“That’s what we said, but there was some circumstantial evidence.”

“But no definitive proof?” I threw my hands in the air. “This is ridiculous. People are so stupid sometimes.”

“Scared people are notorious for bein’ stupid,” John agreed.

“What kind of circumstantial evidence?”

“Well, he was arguin’ with the victim, Clare, the night before about not being able to carry a weapon. She used to help out Grant before I did, and she wasn’t goin’ to let Darren have his guns until he passed the trainin’, just like everybody else. He was pretty pissed.”

“So? I’m pissed about it. Does that make me a suspect?”

John gave me a pointed look. “Be serious, Bailey. I understand you’re upset. We all were when Wyatt all but accused Darren, but we need to keep a level head. That’s what I’ve been doin’, even though it ain’t been easy.”

“Did they find Darren red-handed in the library with a candlestick?”

“This really isn’t a jokin’ matter.”

“Sorry, I’m just kind of shocked.” The joke had been in bad taste; after all, someone was dead and a possible murderer was running around Hargrove. 

“No murder weapon was found and no blood trail. They searched all the condos after they found her body and came up with nothin’.”

“How is that possible?”

“Dunno. That’s the kind of thing we had police for.” John peered at Grant, who was out of earshot. “I admit Grant was the first person to come to mind when we found the body, with him bein’ part of the group that keeps this place runnin’ and all.”

“You said Clare worked with the sergeant before you. Did they get along?”

“I really don’t know. We hadn’t been here long enough at that point to tell. Why?”

“Well, aren’t murders usually committed by someone who’s close to the deceased?”

“You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you don’t like the sergeant,” John said.

“Perhaps, but I remember learning that in my criminology class.”

John thought on it. “I do remember him tellin’ me he used to be a field medic, so he’d know how to cut open a body.”

“That’s good to know. Still, it sounds like a cover-up. There had to be evidence somewhere, like bloody clothes and, I don’t know, the murder weapon.”

John let out a deep breath while still keeping an eye on Grant. “I might’ve felt the same at the time, but nothin’ has happened since, and no one started actin’ odd after.”

“Did they search Wyatt’s place? Or his goon’s place?” I asked.

“You remember me tellin’ you to not go and do somethin’ stupid, right?” John stared me down, knowing exactly where my thoughts were heading.

The sergeant and Wyatt were the authority around Hargrove. While they were keeping everyone else in line, who was keeping them in check?

“We’re headin’ back,” the sergeant boomed. “Everybody meet back at the vehicles.”

John pointed his index finger at me. “We’ll be finishin’ this conversation later.”

I nodded and we jogged over to catch our ride back. John and I got into one of the trucks, and to my dismay, Sergeant Grant got into the driver’s seat, with John riding shotgun. The teen boy who’d been trying the training course again, wore a similar expression to mine.

“Bad luck, huh?” I whispered to him.

He gulped. Just when I thought we were ready to head back, another person opened the door.

“Got room for one more?”
Sheri.

The teen boy shuffled over to the middle, his arm flush against mine. Sheri jumped in with a smile. I’d assumed she would have ridden in the other truck, like she did on the way here. This was going to be one awful ride back.

“Thanks,” she said.

The walkie-talkie on the dashboard crackled. “We’re ready to go on our end.”

“All right, let’s head back,” Grant barked into the receiver.

“Bailey, right?” Sheri asked me over the teen in the middle.

“Yep,” I replied.

John turned in his seat to face us, a grin on his face.

“You’re pretty good with that handgun,” Sheri said despite my less than friendly demeanor.

She hadn’t done too badly out there either.

“Thanks to John here.” I pointed to the eavesdropper in question.

“He tried to teach me too, but you must have some natural talent,” she said.

I wasn’t sure what she was getting at. Trying to butter me up to wedge her way into our group? To steal Ethan? Once again, I was transported back to high school.

“Once you have as much practice as Bailey does, you’ll do much better,” John said. “You too, Mark.”

Mark gave a meek smile, finally included in the conversation. John regarded the teen with a kind look. Now that I’d gotten a good glance at him, I could see Mark’s resemblance to Taylor—just in appearance, not in attitude. Mark was timid and quiet, whereas Taylor had been useful, but kind of a dick sometimes. Poor John. I wondered if Mark’s presence was a horrible reminder that his son was dead, or if John took comfort in their likeness? I imagined seeing your departed child’s face in another would be upsetting. I didn’t want to be reminded of Taylor anymore, so I turned my gaze out the window.

“Hmm,” Sergeant Grant mumbled from the front seat as the truck came to a halt.

John turned around. “What’s goin’ on?”

“People on the road.”

We all leaned over to see out the windshield. Two people were standing in the middle of the road. One had their arm draped over the other’s shoulder and was limping badly.

Grant got out of the truck and John followed.

“Are we supposed to just sit here?” Mark asked.

“Like hell I am,” I said, getting out of the truck.

As I approached them, I could hear the man pleading for Grant to take them with us. The injured person was a woman. Every breath sounded raspy, like her lungs were filled with fluid.

“My sister’s sick. She needs help!” the man all but begged.

“We ain’t takin’ no sick person back with us,” Grant said harshly.

“You might be able to help her!”

“There’s no help for those who are bitten, ‘cept a bullet to the head.”

Way to sugarcoat it.

“Did an infected attack her?” I asked.

Grant sent me a glare, clearly preferring that I would’ve stayed in the truck.

“Yes,” the man said. He accidently jostled his sister as he shuffled from one foot to the other. She moaned and gripped her side.

“How long ago?”

“’Bout an hour maybe,” he answered in a rush.

“Let’s lay her down so we can see how bad it is,” John said as he walked over to the man and grabbed the girl’s other arm.

Together they lowered her to the ground, her rattling breaths increasing in tempo. The brother slowly lifted her blood-soaked shirt to reveal an angry bite mark that was still bleeding pretty badly for an hour-old wound. I was no doctor, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t last long.

The sergeant must have thought the same, because he said, “She ain’t comin’ back with us.”

“Please!”

“We can’t just leave ‘em out here to die,” John said to Grant.

“You wanna be responsible for her turnin’ and bitin’ others?”

“I sure as hell don’t want to be responsible for leavin’ these two to die,” John shot back.

“They can ride in the back of the truck,” I suggested. “It’ll be pretty bumpy though.”

We all looked at Grant for his verdict. Bringing a time bomb back to Hargrove was a bad idea, but chances were she wouldn’t survive the trip there. At least we might save her brother.

“No.”

I clenched my teeth. “They can’t do any harm hitching a ride in the back.”

“Listen here, missy.” Grant loomed over me. “I make the calls, and they ain’t comin’ back with us.”

John got up and led us out of earshot of the siblings.

“She ain’t gonna survive the trip. We might as well let ‘em ride in the back,” John said.

I was reminded of Ethan, with his stray-taking-in ways.

“What are we gonna do when she turns and tries to kill her brother, hmm? Then we got two of ‘em ridin’ along with us.”

“Well, all the guns and ammo from training sure won’t be of any use to us,” I said, my voice full of sarcasm.

Grant shot me a narrow-eyed look. John stuck up his palm at me, telling me to keep my two cents out of it.