The Ashes of Pompeii (Purge of Babylon, Book 5) (28 page)

He stopped and glanced back. “What’s up?”

“We made it. I didn’t think we’d ever see Song Island again, but we made it.”

“We’re not there yet.”

“Close enough.”

“It’s never close enough until you’re chewing on the cheese.”

“That makes absolutely no sense, Danny.”

“Of course it does,” Danny said, turning and walking back to the truck. “Think about it.”

“Yeah, no,” Gaby said after him.

*

After sitting in
the back of the Chevy with the wind pounding against her face for most of the day, standing in the middle of the road under the sun was a nice change of pace. The combination of warm and cool air was almost enough to lull her into a sense of calm, and for a moment, just a moment, she almost forgot that they were cutting it too close, that it would be dark soon.

Always running from the night. Always running. How long before I get tired of it? How long before I just lie down and decide not to do it anymore?

She pushed those thoughts away. They were defeatist, a lingering part of her old self that refused to completely go away no matter how hard she tried, because she knew the old Gaby could never survive in today’s world.

Claire, a reminder of how much times had changed, appeared next to her. The girl cradled the heavy shotgun across her arms and squinted down the barren road. “Do they take the dead, Gaby?”

The question caught her off guard, and it took her a moment to answer.

“I don’t know,” she said finally.

It was the truth. She really didn’t know, and it was one of those nagging questions that she tried not to think too much about it because there didn’t seem to be any point.

“Will had some theories about that,” she added, “but we don’t know for sure. Why?”

“We haven’t seen any bodies. I’m just wondering where they all went.”

“I’m sorry, Claire, I don’t know.”

“It’s okay.” She kept staring down the road, as if she expected to see something (or someone) coming down it anytime now. “I miss Donna.”

“I know.” Gaby put her arm around Claire, who leaned against her. “Donna’s in a better place now.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely,” she said, wondering what kind of special hell was waiting for her for lying to a thirteen-year-old. “You still have me, and if you want, I can make fun of how you stink.”

“I stink?” Claire said.

“Oh yeah.” She sniffed for effect. “The BO’s so bad I’m about to barf.”

Claire laughed. “You’re such a liar.”

“Maybe.”

They exchanged a brief smile.

“Do I get my own room and bed on the island?” Claire asked.

“Yup.”

“I’ve never had one before.”

“Well, first time for—”

“Incoming!”
Nate screamed behind her.

She turned around in time to see sunlight glinting off the hood of a vehicle driving up the road toward them. It was coming from the southern part of the lake and looked like a Jeep, its bright yellow color making it obvious against the gray of the road and the brown and green of the surrounding fields.

“Into the truck!” Gaby shouted.

Claire took off without a word, and Gaby actually had to run just to catch up to her. The girl was deceptively fast, even hauling that huge shotgun around.

Danny was climbing out of the Silverado, still moving gingerly on his bad leg. “How many?” he called back to Nate.

“Just that big ugly mustard thing coming at us,” Nate said, peering through his binoculars.

Gaby also pulled out hers and looked through it. The Jeep was still too far off to make out a lot of details. A mile, she guessed, maybe two. But it was bearing down at them at full speed and they could already hear the sound of its engines despite the distance.

“Gaby,” Danny said. “Keep an eye on your side.”

She nodded. Danny was worried about a two-prong attack, and so was she. They had been here long enough for the enemy to set up some kind of coherent plan. Of course, these men weren’t exactly seasoned tacticians, but it didn’t take a combat veteran to know that attacking from two directions was better than one.

Claire, Annie, and Milly had already disappeared back into the truck, and Danny slammed his door shut and unslung his M4A1. “Kid, in the truck,” Danny shouted at Nate. “Man Big Bertha.”

Nate slung his weapon and ran back, then hopped into the bed of the Chevy. Gaby had to be satisfied with looking back one second for every five she paid attention to her side of the road.

“Wait until they get closer before you shoot,” Danny said.

“How much closer?” Nate asked. “I’ve never fired one of these things before. What’s the effective range on it?”

“You’re overthinking it, Nateroni. Squeeze the trigger when you can smell them.”

Nate grumbled as he perched the machine gun against the closed truck gate and settled down into a crouch. The ammo belt
clinked
against the truck with every movement he made.

Danny had stepped forward a bit and was now looking through his rifle’s scope.

“Danny!” she shouted.

“Yeah?” he shouted back.

“Stop messing around and kill them already.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and fired.

A single shot. She waited for him to pull the trigger again, but he didn’t.

Instead, she listened to the shot echo for a second—maybe two—before the Jeep began swerving as if the driver had suddenly lost control. Then the vehicle seemed to make a sharp right and disappeared into the ditch, even as two men in the backseat were flung into the air, arms and limbs and rifles flailing wildly around them. Clouds of dirt plumed briefly about 200 meters from their position.

“Holy shit,” Nate said, sitting up in the back of the truck. “Nice shot.”

“Eh, I was aiming for the engine block,” Danny said. “But I guess that’ll do.”

A lone figure stood up from the fields, but there were no signs of a second or third man. The survivor picked something up from the ground, seemed to hesitate for a moment, then after stumbling around, turned and began jogging back in the direction he had come.

They waited to see if anyone else would rise from the grass, but no one did.

“Should we go see if there are survivors?” she asked.

“We might be able to use the Jeep,” Nate said. “If it’s not too damaged.”

“Fuck ’em,” Danny said. “We’re not going to need a Jeep where we’re going.” He glanced to his left. “Besides, our ride’s here. Everyone look presentable. First impressions count and all that.”

She looked over at the lake as a vessel appeared, getting bigger as the sound of a boat motor made its presence known. There were two figures onboard, mostly silhouettes against the bathing sun. One of them was pointing a rifle up the road, looking for something to shoot, which meant they had either seen the Jeep or heard Danny’s gunshot and were taking precautions.

Nate looked through his binoculars. “Two people. A man and a woman. The woman’s short and the man’s a blond.”

“That’ll be Roy, the guy I was talking to earlier,” Danny said. Then, to Gaby, “You’ll like him. Handsome kid. Good with his hands, and I hear the ladies like that in a man.”

Gaby wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she didn’t say anything.

“Then, of course, there’s Benny,” Danny continued. “Face it, kid, you’re going to have your hands full with the gentlemen callers when we get back to the island.”

“Hey, I’m right here,” Nate said.

“So you are, Natepoleon Bonaparte, so you are.”

“Give it a rest, guys,” Gaby said, smiling anyway, because it allowed her to think about something other than what she was going to say to Lara when she finally saw her again very soon.

*

Maddie steered the
old but dependable pontoon around the big white vessel anchored in front of Song Island. It was massive and occupied a ridiculous amount of real estate. Or maybe that was just her imagination, since she’d never seen a yacht up close before, never mind one that probably cost more than her parents made in their entire lifetime. The word
Trident
was written along its side.

Gaby saw a familiar figure leaning over the railing at the top of the boat waving to them. Blaine. She’d recognize his hulking size anywhere. She waved back, as did Danny and the girls. Blaine wasn’t alone on the yacht. Two women on the other two decks watched them coming in. They were all heavily armed and looked the part of soldiers waiting for a fight.

Song Island has been getting ready for war. God help us.

Gaby felt the familiar pangs of guilt whenever she looked back at Claire, Maddie, and Annie. The three of them seemed awestruck by the sight of the big white yacht, and then later the beaches of Song Island and the towering solar panels that ringed it. She couldn’t shake the nagging fear that she had made a terrible mistake by bringing them here. What was she doing? Song Island might have been a sanctuary once upon a time, but if Will was right and Kate was going to throw her human forces at it tonight, the place might as well be a death trap. And she had led them here with promises of a soft bed, their own rooms, and ice-cold water.

Song Island’s not safe. I shouldn’t have brought them here. Anywhere but here.

And then they were past the yacht and slowing down as they approached the piers. And there, standing at the end of one of the wooden structures sticking out of the beach, was what Gaby had been dreading since she stepped onto the boat.

Lara.

She was standing with a man Gaby hadn’t seen before. Like Blaine and the two women on the
Trident
, Lara and the stranger were heavily armed and wearing assault vests.

Lara looked so different from the last time Gaby had seen her, and she suddenly realized that it wasn’t just her who had gone through the kind of metamorphosis that even her parents wouldn’t have recognized while she was running around out there trying to stay alive. Lara had changed, too. They all had. You had to, these days, or you didn’t survive.

“Who’s that?” Nate, standing next to her, asked.

“That’s Lara,” Gaby said.

“I thought you said she was some kind of medical student.”

“She was. I mean, she is.”

“Wow,” Nate said. “Medical school in Texas is, uh, really different.”

Gaby couldn’t help but smile a little bit.

“Who’s the string bean?” Danny asked Roy. The two of them were standing at the back of the boat.

“Keo,” Roy, the blond who had come to pick them up along with Maddie, said.

“What kind of name is Keo?”

“You’ll have to ask him. Showed up a couple of days ago. He’s the reason the collaborators haven’t attacked the island yet.”

“So that’s Keo.”

“Yup. That’s Keo,” Roy said.

Gaby was listening to their conversation, but she was mostly focused on Lara standing on the pier with Keo. They were watching the pontoon on approach and talking. Gaby wondered how long it would take Lara to notice that Will wasn’t among them.

She caught her breath and waited for the inevitable.

“Welcome home,” Lara said as Maddie shut off the pontoon’s motor and sidled it alongside the pier. “Guys, this is Keo. Keo, this is Gaby and that’s Danny and…I don’t know who the rest are.”

The tall Asian guy nodded at them. Gaby could just barely make out a long, thin scar running down one side of his face, and he seemed to be favoring his right shoulder for some reason. Instead of an assault rifle like the others were carrying, he had a weapon with a long suppressor attached to the end. It looked mean and dangerous, and she wanted one.

“What kind of name is Keo?” Danny asked, climbing out of the boat.

“Lou was taken,” the guy said.

Gaby hadn’t made it onto the pier yet when Lara said, “Gaby, Danny—where’s Will?”

JOSH

“We almost had
him,” Travis said. “Smiley said he might have even tagged him.”

Smiley? Right. The sniper.

Or as close to a sniper as he was going to get out here. Josh had to constantly remind himself that he wasn’t actually leading a group of soldiers. It took more than a nice polished uniform to turn some accountant or restaurant manager or, in Travis’s case, a construction supervisor, into a full-blooded killer.