The Ashes of Pompeii (Purge of Babylon, Book 5) (52 page)

She never did, though, which doubled his respect for her, and it was already high to begin with after last night.

“Entering the channel now,” Blaine announced.

Keo stiffened and pushed himself even flatter against the roof.

He hated coming back to a place where he had been shot before; it was the whole pushing your luck aspect of it that didn’t sit right with him. He wondered if Blaine and Gage could hear him moving around up here. Hopefully not. He didn’t want them to think he was fidgety, even though he was. The best-case scenario was that the height, combined with the spotlights blasting away around him instead of on him, would be just enough to make him invisible. He was heartened by the fact that when the
Trident
had first approached Song Island, there was a sniper up here and no one had spotted him.

He sucked in a deep breath and settled behind the M240 and did his best to ignore the wind that seemed to have picked up, causing the night to get even colder. It reminded him that he should have changed out of his wet clothes when he had the chance. Or at least put on dry boxers.

A boat the size of the
Trident
had a maximum speed of just fifteen knots, and fourteen when it wanted to cruise. Of course, it wasn’t going nearly that fast at the moment. Lara was right when she said to watch out for obstructions in the water. It wouldn’t have taken much to throw a barge or large fishing boat or two into their path. The soldiers would have been fully aware of the yacht’s existence and how it had entered Beaufont Lake previously. That was probably what had prompted them to put a sniper at the channel in the first place.

Swell. If it wasn’t for bad luck…

Unlike the last time he was here, the colored buoys that warned of the shallower ends of the channel reflected back the yacht’s bright lights, allowing them to easily navigate the dangerous terrain. He wondered if the soldiers knew about that or if it never occurred to them to sink the markers. Either way, he was glad to see them, because a boat the size of the
Trident
needed all the space (and depth) it could get.

He scanned the pitch-black buildings and swaying fields of grass to his left and right, wishing he had taken Nate’s spot down there instead. He’d be standing next to a pretty girl right now and not freezing his ass off up here. Even if there was a shooter lying in wait, he wasn’t going to see a damn thing until they started firing (hopefully not at him). Once that happened, and only then, could he unleash the machine gun’s 900 rounds a minute capability, which, admittedly, would do wonders to overcome his long-distance shooting handicap.

“How long is this thing?” Gaby asked through the radio.

“Gage says it’s just over eight kilometers,” Blaine said.

“How many is that in miles?” Carly asked.

“Five,” Lara said.

“And where are we now?” Gaby asked.

“He says just over a kilometer in,” Blaine said.

Keo reached for the radio. “Heads up. This is where they took their potshots at me.”

He imagined everyone below him sliding just a bit further away from the windows they were supposed to be manning. Where was Lara now? Probably still moving around, trying to pick out a target with her M4. Too bad they had lost the night-vision carbines back on the island. They could really have used those at the moment. Of course, they could have used a lot of—

Damn.

They were like cockroaches, sprinting through the tall fields of overgrown grass on both sides of him. More were darting in and out of the warehouses, and he swore there were a dozen or so climbing up one of the cranes. Thin silhouetted figures stood along the rooftops of buildings and watched them pass. The ones on land, racing along the sides of the channel, kept vanishing and materializing out of the moonlight.

There had to be thousands of them out there, just beyond the water’s edge to both sides of him. He shivered, reminding himself that if Gaby hadn’t found him in the water, he would have had to climb out of the lake and into…
that.

“Jesus,” Gaby said through the radio, her voice barely audible. “You guys see what I’m seeing?”

“Yes,” Lara said. “Blaine, make sure Gage stays in the middle of the channel. Don’t veer too close to the edges.”

Keo remembered how the ghouls had dive-bombed into Beaufont Lake after him, knowing full well they were going to die but unable to stop themselves. He waited for these to do the same thing, and thank God the channel was over 300 meters wide and the
Trident
remained in the very center, as directed.

“Steady,” Lara was saying through the radio. “Stay on course. Steady…”

“Can they jump?” Nate asked.

“Yes,” Gaby said, and he thought her voice might have quivered a bit there.

“Stay on course,” Lara said again. “Stay on course…”

Keo tested the trigger on the M240 and waited for the creatures to start flinging themselves through the air. The ones back on Song Island had risked it—either because they had forgotten they couldn’t survive the water, or they had simply given in to their primal instincts.

“Dead, not stupid,” Blaine said through the radio.

“What?” Nate said.

“Something Will used to say,” Gaby said. “He always reminded us that the creatures were dead, but they weren’t stupid. It was his mantra, and something we should all keep in mind if we want to stay alive.”

Dead, not stupid. I like it.

It might have been the mention of Will’s name, because the radio went silent after that.

It turned out they didn’t have to worry about the ghouls or soldiers. There was no ambush, no obstructions in the water, and nothing at all to keep them from cruising straight into the Gulf of Mexico.

Keo sat up and looked back at the channel and the surrounding land mass, at the peaks of warehouses and towering cranes that had been abandoned a year ago. He could still see them racing back and forth, their thin forms flickering against the moonlight as if they weren’t actually real and might have just been a figment of his imagination.

He wished he were that imaginative.

He picked up the machine gun and climbed down from the roof.

Lara was leaning on the railing at the back of the upper deck, looking at the channel as the coastline of Louisiana was absorbed into the darkness. She looked at peace, even though he knew there was a lot going through that mind of hers at the moment. Not least of which was the ex-Ranger they had left behind who had never made it home.

He recalled their conversation when the other ex-Ranger and Gaby had arrived back on the island. He had asked about Will, and if she actually believed he was still alive out there.

“If you knew Will, you wouldn’t need to ask,”
she had answered.

“So we’re going on faith, then?”
was his smartass response.

“You honestly think your girlfriend actually made it to Santa Marie Island?”
she had countered.
“That she’s wearing a bikini and waiting on the beach every morning, waiting for you to finally show up?”

That last part had been a real kick in the balls, because she was right. He was—and had been for some time now—just operating on faith, like a sucker.

Keo put the M240 down on the floor and leaned against the railing next to her. He didn’t say anything, and she didn’t, either. They looked back at the dwindling coastline, almost completely swallowed up by the blackness now. Entering the Gulf of Mexico was like voyaging into the Bermuda Triangle, because at that moment they couldn’t see much of anything beyond the halos of the
Trident
’s lights.

Finally, he said, “You left a message for him back on the island?”

“I did,” she nodded. “It’s in a place only he’d think to look. When he finds it, he’ll know it’s from me.”

“So it’s only a matter of time before he follows you to the Bengals.”

“Yes.”

“
Are
you going to the Bengals?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll make a decision after we reach the refueling depot. After that…”

“What?” he said.

“Can you stay awhile, Keo? I know it’s asking a lot, after everything you’ve already done. But I have to ask anyway. Not for me, for the others. Can you stay a little longer?”

He knew it was coming, and he was fully prepared to tell her no. But standing there next to her, hearing the desperation in her voice and knowing this was the last thing she wanted to ask him, he couldn’t pull the trigger.

Christ, you’ve gotten soft.

Like a big ol marshmallow…

“How long?” he asked.

“As long as you can.”

He sighed. “Hell, why not. I’ve already invested a lot of time keeping you guys alive, wouldn’t want all my efforts to go to waste now.” He nodded. “I can stick around until the Ranger’s back on his feet.”

“That might take a while.”

“Then I guess it’ll take a while.”

“What about Gillian?”

“She’ll understand. Probably.”

“Thank you, Keo.”

“Sure.”

He looked out at the Gulf of Mexico churning against the
Trident
’s propellers. It would be a few more hours yet until sunrise, though for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the internal conflict of watching darkness staring back at him.

Beside him, Lara was quiet for a long time before she finally said, “When you jumped into the lake, did you see what happened to the creatures?”

“They sank.”

“Yeah.”

“Silver, bodies of water, and…what was the third thing?”

“Ultraviolet light. But we haven’t been able to replicate what happened back at Starch.”

“Maybe you should go back there.”

She nodded. “One of these days. Right now, the lives of everyone on this boat is more important.”

She did a marvelous job of hiding it, but Keo could hear it in her voice and see it in the way she leaned against the railing. She was tired. Dead on her feet.

He knew how she felt; it had been months since he could say he was sufficiently rested. He hadn’t gotten any at the island, which was supposed to be safe. But out here, on this boat, maybe he could finally get a full night’s sleep.

“Why?” she said.

“Why?” he repeated.

“Why?”

“What’s the question?”

She gave him a knowing look, and he smiled back.

“You needed my help,” he said, and shrugged, hoping she’d let it go.

“We did,” she said. “We still do. In the worst way. But you didn’t have to do any of it. You don’t have to do it now. So why?”

“I’ve done things…” He hesitated, turning the words over, searching for the right ones. Or at least, the least objectionable ones. “I have a lot of blood on my hands, Lara. A lot. You have no idea.”

She didn’t interrupt and just listened.

“I didn’t use to do what I did for God, country, or apple pie,” he continued. “I wish I could say I was a true believer. Or at least a jingoistic moron. But I can’t.”

He paused again. Why was he even bothering to tell her any of this? What was the point? He guessed maybe he just needed to say them out loud more than he needed her to understand, because he didn’t really think she could understand.

“I have a lot to make up for,” Keo said. “I don’t know. Maybe I figured you and your friends were a good start.”

He stopped talking and waited for her to respond. He was both afraid and longed for it.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You already said that.”

“I don’t think I can ever say it enough.”

I’ll take it,
he thought, and said, “You should get those wounds properly dressed. How’d you get shot twice, anyway?”

“I just got shot once. The other wound is shrapnel.”

“Hurts?”

“Everyone’s hurt. Pain lets you know you’re still alive.”

He smirked. “
Daebak
, Rambette.”

“One of these days you’re going to tell me what that really means.”

“Ask nicely and I might.”

“Deal.” She leaned over and surprised him by kissing him on the cheek. “Go get some rest, Keo. You’ve earned it,” she said, and pushed off the railing and hobbled through the door back into the upper deck lounge.

She moved gingerly, and though he couldn’t see her face, he imagined she was grimacing with every step. She wasn’t trying to hide the pain anymore, he realized, because there was just him around to see her vulnerable. He took that as a compliment and looked back at the ocean.

Or the big black spot where the ocean was supposed to be, anyway.

He thought about his mantra, the three sentences he had been basing his life on for the last ten years.

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

Not all that much had changed if he really thought about it. He was still seeing the world, still killing people, except no one was paying him to do it anymore. Or, well, not in stacks of green rectangular pieces of paper, anyway. Instead, there were just kisses on the cheek.

He’d take it.

GABY

“Go, get out
of here! Get out of here!”

She couldn’t stop thinking about him. The sound of his voice, the way he had screamed the words at her. There was a look on his face: terror, regret, and an absolute certainty that defied logic.

She didn’t know how he had done it, and she still didn’t despite running it over in her head again and again for the hundredth time. Josh had never been the strongest kid; it was one of the reasons they had defaulted to letting Matt call the shots after The Purge. There was no reason why Matt should have been the leader. He wasn’t older by that much and he certainly wasn’t smarter than either one of them. But he was bigger and stronger.

And yet, Josh had pushed the boat
with them onboard
off the beach by himself.

How? How did you do that, Josh?

She was reminded of all those stories about mothers lifting cars to save their child after an accident. Was that where Josh had summoned his strength? Had he dug deep because he wanted to save…

Her.

She found it difficult to reconcile the Josh in the uniform who had shot Danny (even if he did claim he didn’t know it was Danny) with the one that had ultimately saved her. They were the same man—and yet, so different. It didn’t make any sense, and her inability to understand him—what he was, what he had become, and what he had done at the very end on that stretch of beach—kept Gaby up all night.