The Fires of Atlantis (Purge of Babylon, Book 4) (12 page)

After passing the empty acres of unattended farmland, they moved through the suburban areas filled with old and new houses. The bulk of the city was in front of them, gathered around State Highway 190. The highway was flat to the ground and would have looked like any other road if not for the signs. One pointed south toward I-10.

And beyond that, Song Island…

They stuck to the roads, maneuvering around the occasional abandoned vehicle. Homes, businesses, and gas stations flanked them. The afternoon sun continued to beat down mercilessly, further soaking her in her own sweat. All of it just made her miss Song Island more.

For a city that 10,000 people used to live in, Dunbar was abandoned and empty and dead. They waited thirty minutes near the outskirts and listened for noise or anything resembling life but didn’t hear a single thing. The stillness continued as they made their way inside. Instead of making her feel better, the quiet only gnawed at Gaby, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched from the very first moment they stepped foot into the city limits.

“Ten thousand people?” she said.

“Doesn’t feel like it, does it?” Peter said.

“No, it doesn’t.” She walked in silence for a moment. Then, “Look for a place to stay the night.”

“Already?” Peter said, glancing down at his watch.

“We took too long to get here. And it’s harder to find a safe place than you think.”

Peter nodded. “What kind of place are we looking for?”

Gaby thought about the pawnshop. About Nate… “Something with a basement. Just to be safe.”

“I’m hungry,” Milly said.

“Can we look through the gas stations for food first?” Peter asked.

She stopped in the street as her own stomach growled. On cue, Peter’s and Milly’s joined in. The three of them exchanged smiles, and this time she wasn’t able to stop herself in time.

“Yeah,” she said. “We should probably find something to eat.”

Gaby took out the Glock and handed it to Peter. He took it hesitantly, as if he was afraid it would go off if he gripped it too tightly. She gave him two spare magazines and he put it in his pocket.

“Be careful,” she said. “If you run across one of them, don’t fight or shoot, just run.”

“Just run?”

“Shooting them will just piss them off. You saw what happened in the cave.”

He nodded and turned the gun over in his hand.

“Have you ever fired a gun before, Peter?”

He gave her an embarrassed look. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just point and shoot.”

“Where’s the safety? I thought guns have safeties?”

“Glocks don’t.” She held up her forefinger and twitched it in front of him, the way Will had done to her all those months ago back on the island during the first phase of her weapons training. “That’s your safety.”

“My finger?” Peter said, slightly confused.

“You don’t pull the trigger, and the gun won’t go off. Simple as that.”

“Oh,” he said.

“Here,” Gaby said, and took the Glock back and handed him Mac’s 1911 instead. “This one has a safety.” She showed him the switch, then took back the magazines she had given him and passed over two new ones. “Be careful.”

Peter felt a little better, and it showed on his face.

“Milly, stay with me,” Gaby said.

The girl nodded quickly. “Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

“Nice,” Peter said.

T
hey settled
on an Exxon gas station at the corner of Tripps and Meer and walked around a white pickup truck in the parking lot before passing two more vehicles frozen at the gas pumps. The convenience store was long and advertised “Beer Cigarettes Liquor.” They were just hoping for some nonperishable food.

Gaby went inside first, Peter behind her, while Milly stayed outside on the curb, looking worriedly back at the empty street. There was an auto body shop called George’s on the other side, flanked by two big red buildings, including a Mexican restaurant called Rosita’s.

Peter fidgeted behind her, and she prayed to God he didn’t accidentally shoot her in the back.

“Don’t shoot until you’re sure,” she said quietly.

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay,” he said again.

For some reason she didn’t believe him, but she kept that to herself. “Let’s stick together, okay? You watch my back and I’ll take the front. Try not to stray too far.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes. Was she being bossy? Probably. Then again, she was the one who had been out here for the last year. According to him, Peter went to sleep in one of those blood farms on the very first night of what Will and the others called The Purge and didn’t wake up again in one of the camps until two months later. He wasn’t exactly equipped to survive out here, especially dragging around a thirteen-year-old girl who had about the same experience as he did. Maybe that was a bit harsh, but she had no time to pussyfoot around when her life was at stake.

Gaby headed down the first aisle they came to, scanning and listening for sounds other than their own footsteps and Peter’s slightly loud breathing. There was enough sunlight that she wasn’t too worried about ghouls hiding behind the shelves. But there were other things just as dangerous as ghouls in the daytime.

The city’s too empty. So why does it not
feel
empty?

They went through the aisle and found nothing of interest except some melted chocolate on the floor, little more than puddles of black and brown spots now. The M4 she had taken off one of the dead guards felt more at home in her hands than the AK-47, and it moved in front of her as they finished up with the second aisle. Despite the comfort level, the fact that the rifle wasn’t loaded with the right ammo played havoc with her confidence.

“What’s that smell?” Peter asked.

“Rotten food,” she said.

“Oh.”

“The freezer’s at the back. They should have some water, too.”

“Good, because I’m thirsty as hell. I know I should have prepared something last night, but it never entered my mind. I guess I’m not very good at this.”

“I guess not,” she said. “Stay alert.”

“Can I ask you something?”

She sighed. He was talking too much. She didn’t know why he was talking so damn much. Didn’t he know they were in a precarious situation here? That there could be bad things waiting for them in the next aisle? Or in the next room? Or outside?

Why does this city not
feel
empty?

When she didn’t answer, he said, “What’s it like to kill someone?”

“You killed Mac,” she said, hoping that would nip the conversation in the bud.

It didn’t work.

“I think he’s still alive,” Peter said.

“He’s probably brain-dead if he is.”

That made him go quiet, and in the few seconds that followed, she felt a pang of guilt.

Jesus. What’s wrong with me?

“It’s okay,” she said. “You did what you had to.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

She wasn’t the least bit convinced he was okay with what he had done to poor Mac, but Gaby didn’t know how else to comfort him. This wasn’t the time, either. They were still moving inside a building they had never been in, in a city that may or may not hold dangers they didn’t even know existed yet.

Later. I’ll talk to him about it later.

They were turning toward the third aisle when a scream pierced the air, coming
from outside.

“Milly!” Peter shouted.

He was already running before Gaby could turn fully around. She hurried after him, just in time to see him shoving the glass doors open and lunging outside.

Christ, she had no idea he could move that fast!

Gaby burst outside onto the sidewalk after Peter, the M4 swinging up and sweeping the large parking lot for threats.

There’s something wrong with this city. Dammit, I should have listened to my gut instinct!

Everything was where it should be—the white truck and the two vehicles at the gas pumps. There was nothing out here that could pose a danger to them, so why were alarm bells exploding inside her head?

But everything was where it should be—
except for Milly.
The girl was gone.

“Where is she?” Gaby asked.

Peter was whirling around, the Smith & Wesson gripped too tightly in his right fist.

“Peter,” Gaby said. “Where’s Milly?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know!”

The girl’s backpack was leaning against the curb. Gaby bent to pick it up when a loud cry streaked across the air, coming from down the street. Peter took off running in that direction with the same deceptive speed she didn’t know he was even capable of.

Where the hell had he been hiding
that?

She ran after him. Or tried to, anyway.

Another scream, this one just as pained and shrill, rocketing up the street and prompting Peter to run even faster. He seemed to know where he was going, where Milly’s screams were coming from, and soon he had abandoned the highway and was turning into a side street with long, smooth strides.

Gaby followed as best she could. Gray and red and white buildings flashed by on both sides of her. Store and restaurant signs. Windows, some painted, others barren, reflecting back a streaking figure—her. Thank God she had tied her hair in a ponytail.

She swerved around vehicles in the streets, keeping sight of Peter in front of her. He had somehow added to the distance between them.

God, he’s fast. Where is all that speed coming from?

She blamed her lagging pace on the rifle she was carrying along with the Glock in the hip holster. There were also the pouches around her waist, still stuffed with spare magazines even though she had dumped the ones for the AK-47.

Milly’s voice, shouting,
“Peter!”
, coming from their left, and very close by.

Without hesitation, Peter turned into the mouth of an alley. Gaby was on his heels, and she was surprised to see that Peter had slowed down in front of her. As she began to catch up to him, she could hear his breathing hammering out of him in quick, pained bursts, flooding the narrow space along with their pounding footsteps.

There was a dead-end in front of them, along with a metal door that was opening and a figure darting through it
with Milly thrown over its shoulder.

“Peter!” Milly shouted, looking back at them with hands outstretched and eyes wide with terror.

Gaby had never seen someone look so frightened in her life. Well, that wasn’t true. Her mind flashed back to the kids from Mercy Hospital being taken away in the back of the Humvees. She had failed to save those kids. She didn’t even know where they were at the moment or what had become of them.

Not again.

She didn’t know where she got the burst of speed, but suddenly she was running past Peter. Then she was halfway up the alley when the steel door slammed shut in front of her. She didn’t stop for one second. As she neared it, she reached out with one hand and grabbed the knob and twisted it and jerked the door back and slipped inside in one continuous, blurring motion.

Darkness.

It was pitch-black inside.

She stopped, the only sounds coming from inside her chest and through her mouth as she struggled to breathe. She swiveled the carbine left, then right, then behind her. Not that it did any good.

She couldn’t see a goddamn thing.

Her eyes tried desperately to adjust to the blackness, but she could only see a few inches in front of her. It looked like some kind of hallway. She listened for footsteps, prepared to hear the soft patter of bare feet against tiled floor.

Ghouls!
her mind screamed.
There are ghouls in here!

Her finger tightened against the trigger.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, swallowed up by darkness, but it must have only been a few seconds, because the alleyway door opened behind her and sunlight flooded inside. Peter hurried through, his breath flooding out in long gasps. In the brief few seconds that the door was opened, she confirmed that she was inside a hallway with old walls, peeling paint, and a vinyl-covered floor.

“Milly!” Peter shouted.

His voice echoed just before he let the door slam shut behind him and they were, once again, swallowed up by the same black void as a few seconds ago.

“Oh my God,” Peter said, his voice breathless.

“What is it?” she said, keeping her eyes forward at…nothing. There was a big fat nothing in front of her.

“The door,” Peter said, the panic rising with each syllable. “There’s no doorknob on this side of the door, Gaby. I can’t open it!”

Gaby glanced behind her, searching out the door, trying to find the doorknob in the sea of nothingness. She couldn’t locate it, and the only reason she even knew Peter was standing next to her was the smell of his sweat and his out-of-control panting as he ran his hands over the metal door.

It’s a trap. They led us right into a goddamn trap.

She heard a
click
before a stream of light flashed across her face, illuminating the peeling and old faded multicolored patterns over one side of the wall. Peter, with a flashlight, swiveled the light back to her. She winced, and he quickly took the bright light away.

“Sorry,” he said.

“You brought a flashlight?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You’ve had it this entire time?”

“I—”

“The cave, Peter,” she hissed. “Why didn’t you use it when we were back in the cave?”

“I…forgot I had it.”

“Jesus,” she said, and looked away. “Never mind. Show me where we are.”

He turned the flashlight down one side of the hallway, then swiveled around and did the same to the other side. There was a nightstand with a vase and dead flowers draped over the lid behind them. And beyond that, just a solid wall. The other side, on the other hand, showed an intersection about twenty yards further down, pointing left and right.

“Can you hear her?” Peter whispered.

She shook her head but then realized he probably couldn’t see. “No. Can you?”

“No…”

“There’s only one way to go. Can you find any windows?”