The Spears of Laconia (Purge of Babylon, Book 7) (21 page)

Danny whirled away from the window and screamed at them,
“Down! Get the fuck down!”

She dropped to the platform on instinct, just as pieces of the windows began to spiderweb, and she heard the sound that she knew would haunt her nightmares for as long as she lived, however long that might be.

It came from above, like a great beast unleashing its rage upon the world.

Brooooooooooorrrrttttttttt!

KEO

Well, I’ve had
better nights.

And that was before the tankers fired up the music. They were blaring heavy metal, and the drums and guitars were just loud enough to drown out the soothing waves of the ocean just beyond the beach.

I’ve had a
lot
better nights.

After the speakers came to life, the cannon fire began. Again and again and again. Each time it let loose, the ground shook. He waited for them to run out of shells. Surely they didn’t have a full load, did they?

But that wasn’t all they had on them. He remembered glimpsing the gun turrets from a distance and knowing they had been modified, but not how or why. In his wildest dreams, he wouldn’t have guessed someone would come up with the bright idea to rig a flamethrower to a sixty-ton war machine. It was a tad overkill, if someone were to ask him.

The unmistakable whiff of burning flesh made its way through the trapdoor above him soon after the cannon fire began. At first, he thought it might have been barbecue cooking. Well, he wasn’t too far off the mark; it just wasn’t the kind of searing meat he usually preferred. It simultaneously sounded, felt, and smelled like the world was having one big party and coming to a glorious, bloody end.

Keo had been to a lot of bad places, seen a lot of bad things, and had even done some of them (okay, maybe most of them), but he had to admit, what was happening above him now was entirely new. Then again, it could just be his present circumstance making things look much worse than they really were.

Yeah, let’s go with that.

“Jesus, how many times have they fired that thing?” Jordan said next to him.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Guess.”

“Do I have to?”

“It’ll help pass the time.”

“How so?”

“Just guess.”

On cue, another
thoom!
rang out, and the enclosed space trembled. Keo imagined a slew of ghouls disintegrating against the explosion somewhere out there. Closer to home, a piece of dirt that had been clinging to a section of the wall for God knew how long fell loose and landed on his hand. He flicked it away.

“What was that?” Jordan asked, alarmed.

“Nothing; just a piece of dirt.”

“Stop that. I have enough dirt on this side and under my ass, I don’t need some of yours, too.”

“Sorry.”

They were in the
(coffin)
rectangular space under the storage building that he had discovered earlier. It wasn’t nearly as roomy as he had promised Jordan, though there was enough space for both of them to lie down, even if they couldn’t twitch their arms or legs, or blow at a piece of dirt without it landing on one other.

Not that Keo minded too much. If he had to be sealed off from the world in a literal hole in the ground with anyone, at least Jordan smelled better than most. Not that she had done anything special, but women, even ones covered in dirt and grime as she was at the moment, with a week’s worth of sweat to boot, was still preferable to the best-smelling guy he’d ever had the misfortune to lie down next to. Besides, it felt good to give his legs a long rest.

As far as he could tell, the house above them was still standing, though he couldn’t say the same for the others around it. The possibility of losing the building wasn’t the problem; it was being trapped under its pile of rubble that made him nervous. Keo had come to accept the possibility of death in a variety of ways, and buried alive was far, far down the list.

Shoulda made a run for it. Hell, shoulda done a lot of things, pal.

“Well?” Jordan said.

“Well what?”

“I asked you a question. How many times have they fired that thing? About twenty?”

“Ten?”

“Can’t be…”

“Around ten.”

“It has to be more.”

“Maybe.”

“Are you even trying?”

“Of course.”

She sighed, her breath warm against his left ear. He could feel her body heat, hear the soft rustling of clothes as she moved her legs and arms from time to time. She got more restless each time the tank fired and a cloud of dust shook loose from the oak door a foot from their faces. The floor under them was cold and wet and hard, like sleeping on the world’s worst, most painful mattress.

“What the hell is that, anyway?” she asked.

“What?”

“That music…”

“‘War Pigs.’”

“What did you call me?”

He grinned. “It’s a song called ‘War Pigs’ by Black Sabbath.”

“Oh.” Then, “I didn’t know you were into heavy metal.”

“I’m not, but I knew this guy who was. Got himself killed in Mogadishu a few years back. RPG pierced the car we were riding in and gutted him.”

“Gutted him? I thought rockets were supposed to explode.”

“This one didn’t. It sliced through the door and got him in the stomach. Missed the client by a foot. The poor bastard was muttering ‘God’ for three straight days after that. After a while,
I
wanted to kill him.”

“That must have been awful.”

“Why? He lived.”

“No, I meant your friend.”

“Oh. Yeah. It was pretty ugly.”

“Were you good friends?”

“Nah. Truth is, I didn’t really like him that much.”

“Why not?”

“His taste in music sucked.”

“Oh sure, why not hate a guy because you disagree with his taste in music.”

“Glad you approve.”

She made a sound that might have been a snort. “So these people you used to work for…”

“What about them?”

“They have a name?”

“Yes.”

When he didn’t elaborate, she said, “What was it?”

“You wouldn’t know them. They don’t show up in the Yellow Pages.”

She chuckled.

“What?” he said.

“Phone books. I remember when everyone had one. Then the Internet happened. I guess we’re going to have to go back to phone books now, huh?”

“We’re going to need working phones first.”

“Yeah, there’s that. Well, one problem at a time.”

Another
thoom!
, and the ground around them shook again, the shockwave lingering a bit longer this time. He listened to another house toppling somewhere in the background.

Shit, they’re landing closer and closer.

“What exactly are they doing out there?” Jordan asked, sounding simultaneously angry and scared.

“Making a hell of a mess, would be my guess.”

“What if it really is the U.S. Army? What if they’re finally fighting back?”

“What they’re doing up there isn’t fighting back.”

“I don’t understand…”

“There’s no point in blowing up a beach full of ghouls,” he said. “If you wanted to kill the bastards, you could go around firebombing buildings and taking out all the places they use as nests during the day. Break a lot of windows, bust down all the doors you can find—all that fun vandalism stuff we used to do back when we were kids.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Okay, that I used to do when I was a kid. Eventually, you’d have to accept that there’s no point in killing them.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying that. The more we kill, the less of them there are.”

“You really think so?”

“The question is, why don’t you?”

“Because there are millions of them out there, Jordan. Maybe billions. You can kill a hundred of them, even thousands a day, and you wouldn’t make a dent. It also won’t get you any closer to winning this war. You’d just get every blue eyes in the area sicced on you. Ones like Frank, except less friendly. Anyone running around out there shelling beaches doesn’t understand what they’re facing.”

“Which is?”

“That we’re living behind enemy lines. The entire planet’s occupied territory. The last thing you want to be doing out there is drawing attention to yourself if you don’t have to.”

He expected an argument, but she was very quiet for a long time.

“I forget that you’ve been out there longer and seen more than I have,” she said finally. “Even when I was at T18, then running around in the woods with Tobias, I was never really
out
there. What else do you know?”

“Just that the ones behind all this had it planned out from the very beginning. Frank said as much. He said he could hear them talking, hear voices of the ones in charge. They knew what they were doing from day one. The blood farms, the hospitals, the military response…”

“Did he say what happened to the Army? What about the Navy?”

“He said they weren’t around anymore.”

“That’s it?”

“We didn’t really get into details. He’s mostly a man of few words. Anyway, if they were still out there, don’t you think they would have shown themselves by now?”

“Yeah, there’s that…”

“Besides, I learned long ago not to put your faith in Uncle Sam’s boys. They’re overrated and will only disappoint you in the end.”

“Sounds personal. Daddy issues?”

“Maybe a tad.”

“Anyway, when did you guys have these conversations? And where was I during them?”

“Usually asleep.”

“You could have woken me. Maybe I had some questions for him, too.”

He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“The thought of you and Frank, talking. You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Maybe you don’t know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“How you are around him. You’re…stiff.”

“Stiff?”

“Tense.”

“I didn’t…” She stopped short, then said, “Do you think he noticed?”

Oh, he noticed all right,
Keo thought, but said, “Probably not.”

Jordan went silent after that. He couldn’t see her face, so he didn’t know if she was replaying all those nights when they were with Frank and how she had acted (unknowingly, as it turned out) around him. Or maybe she was doing what he was doing and trying to time the aftershocks after each cannon impact and grimacing when they sounded just a little bit closer than the last time.

“Are you missing T18 yet?” he asked.

She sighed. “Maybe a little bit. Why?”

“Sometimes I think the people in the towns are the smart ones. At least they get to sleep in their own beds, with a stomach full of food, and not just kidney beans.”

“I thought you like kidney beans.”

“I don’t like them that much.”

Another bout of silence, with just Ozzy Osbourne somewhere on the other side of the trapdoor. The speakers must have taken a hit, because Ozzy’s voice had become strained and at times incomprehensible.

“So, Black Sabbath, huh?” Jordan said after a while.

“Yup. Black Sabbath.”

“They must have that damn song on an endless loop.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Speakers.”

“Uh huh.”

“These tanks come with speakers?”

“Probably custom add-ons.”

“It’s not bad. The song. Not sure I’d like to listen to it 500 times in a row, but hey, whatever floats their boat.” She paused for a moment, then, “What happens if they hit the house above us?”

“Probably nothing good.”

“Can you be a little more specific?”

“It’ll fall down and bury us. We’d survive for a few days while trying to open the door, but eventually we’d give up when it won’t budge because of all the rubble on top of it.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Then we’d both die of thirst in a few days. Unless you start eating me, or I start eating you. We could probably live off each other’s meat and blood for a few extra days or weeks, if you can keep it all down.”

“Very vivid; thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Another
thoom!

Keo squeezed his eyes shut against a particularly thick cloud of dust floating down over his face from the door above them. He coughed, and so did Jordan next to him.

“That one was pretty close,” she said.

“Uh huh.”

“The closest one yet.”

“Yup.”

“Not good.”

“Nope.”

“What are the chances we can make the beach if we climb out right now?”

“Depends…”

“On?”

“How many of the bloodsuckers are around the house right now that will notice us when we poke our heads out.”

“How many, you think?”

“A few hundred?”

“Sounds manageable.”

“Or maybe a few thousand.”

“That, not so much.” She sighed. “You wanna risk it?”

“No.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

The cannon fire, the smell of burning flesh, and Ozzy’s waning voice filled the temporary silence inside the room. He tried to pick out the crashing ocean waves in the background, but it was a lost cause through the thick walls. At least they had their thermal clothing, which kept the cool temperature at bay. The only real issue at the moment was the chances of being buried alive down here.

Don’t think about it. If you don’t think about it, it won’t happen.

Yeah, that’s it. Let’s go with that.

“Keo,” Jordan whispered.

“What?”

“Is that smell what I think it is?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah.”

“If you say ‘yeah’ one more time, I’m going to punch you in the balls.”

“Sounds painful,” he said.

“I don’t know what Gillian sees in you.”

“Must be my charming personality.”

“What personality?”

“Man, you’re really going for the low blows tonight, aren’t you?”

She chuckled, just as the tank loosed another round, the resulting
thoom!
causing his teeth to chatter for a few seconds afterward.

“That was a close one,” Jordan said.

“The one before that was closer.”

“Was it?”

“Uh huh.”

“Not good.”

“Nope.”

“I’m going to die down here, aren’t I?”

“Think positive.”