The Fires of Atlantis (Purge of Babylon, Book 4) (15 page)

“Who did this to you?” she asked.

All he could manage was to shake his head. Barely.

She turned to the girl, still crouched in front of them, staring with those blue eyes. “Who did this to my friend?”

The girl stared blankly back at her.

“Can you talk?”

Nothing.

“My name’s Gaby. What’s yours?”

She saw something—a flicker—and was hopeful…for a brief second. Then it was gone in a flash.

Instead of replying, the girl stood up and took a step back, then another. She didn’t look frightened, but there was a clear need to disengage herself.

She knows what’s been happening. She knows what’s
going
to
happen. She’s probably seen it before.

The trap. The boy in the hallway.

They’ve done this before…

The girl vanished into the part of the basement that was enshrouded in darkness, which happened to be most of it. There was a rustling of clothes as the girl settled back down. Then there was just silence.

“Gaby…” Peter whispered.

She looked over at him. Just saying her name seemed to have taken everything he had. “Peter, don’t say anything. Just rest.”

“Dangerous…”

“I know, Peter, I know.”

He nodded—or tried to—and closed his eyes. He rested his head against the brick wall and seemed to drift off.

She looked around her again, taking in the room with a new eye, but didn’t see anything remotely useful the second time around. Concrete floor, walls, and ceiling. Some kind of bomb shelter, maybe. Or just a really sturdy basement. She could imagine people in here surviving through The Purge and the months after. The door would probably be somewhere on the other side. And the only thing between her and it was a teenage girl with a rifle…

Her ears perked up at the sound of loud, grinding metal moving against concrete. Something opening. A door.

Then, footsteps approaching. Boots. Heavy combat boots.

A figure emerged out of the wall of shadows like some ghostly vision. But it wasn’t a supernatural creature. It was just a man. He was large, in his early thirties, with short red hair and stubble that made him look older. He wore cargo pants and a sweat-stained T-shirt and had a Glock in a hip holster.

The man stopped in front of her and seemed to evaluate Peter for a moment. “I’m sorry about that,” he said finally. “The boys got a little carried away.” He looked at her. “My name’s Harrison.”

His voice sounded familiar.

The man in the night-vision goggles.

She remembered the bigger man, the one who had tackled her in the hallway, calling someone “Harrison.”

“What did you do to Peter?” she asked.

“We had to be sure,” Harrison said.

“Be sure of what?”

“What you were doing here.”

“We’re just passing through.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s what he said, too. I believe him. But we had to be sure you weren’t dangerous, that’s all.”

“So you beat him half to death?” The anger rose inside her, surprising even herself. “While he’s tied up? That takes a real man.”

She expected indignation from Harrison, but instead he just shrugged indifferently. “You’re not the first ones to come through here. And, like I said, there couldn’t be any doubts. We had to be absolutely one hundred percent sure.”

“So do you still have any doubts?”

“Not anymore.”

“Then why are we still tied up?”

“We’re sure there’s just the three of you and you’re passing through, but that’s it.” He went into a crouch and stared at her with dull brown eyes. “It’s a dangerous world out there. The types of people who survive these days aren’t to be trusted. You’d do the same in our shoes.”

“Is that how you justify it?”

“I don’t need to justify it. My people depend on me. Three strangers who I’ve never seen in my life aren’t going to change what’s worked for us for the last year.” He stood up. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

Bullshit.

“You can believe it or not,” Harrison said, as if reading her thoughts—or maybe he just saw the look on her face. “It doesn’t matter to me. Tomorrow we’ll debate about what to do with you two—whether to cut you loose and send you on your way…or not. That’s more than most people will do for you these days, so count your lucky stars. For now, sit tight.”

“And the girl? Milly? What about her?”

“She’s being taken care of.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

“She’s staying,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Did she tell you she wanted to stay?”

“No. But she’s young, and she’ll get over it.” He looked behind him at the shadows—at the girl, who neither one of them could see at the moment but Gaby knew was still back there, watching and listening intently. “They all do, eventually. Kids are useful.”

The boy in the hallway…

“What about him?” Gaby said, nodding at Peter. His eyes were still closed and it didn’t look as if he had moved or made a noise—or even breathed—at all during her conversation with Harrison. “He needs medical attention.”

“Like I said, it’s a tough world out there,” Harrison said, with all the sympathy of a lion feeding on fresh prey. “You gotta be strong to make it these days. It’s up to him if he’s walking out of here with you…or if you’re going by yourself.”

“You heartless
fuck.
”

He snorted. “You should thank me. I could have found plenty of uses for you, too, but we’re not that far gone yet.” He leaned toward her and let his eyes bore into her soul. “But I can always change my mind later.”

She didn’t say anything. She also didn’t look away. If he was trying to scare her, it wasn’t going to work. At least, she hoped it wasn’t working…

He stood back up. “Sit tight,” he said with something that looked like a crooked grin before turning and leaving without another word.

She listened to the sounds of his heavy footsteps fading, doing her very best to control her rage. She wanted to leap up and lunge after him, bound wrists and ankles be damned, but that would have been stupid. He wasn’t just bigger than her, she was also bound and hurt, and it wouldn’t have taken much for him to beat her back down.

And she couldn’t afford that right now. Beaten and bruised was okay, but she had seen what Harrison was capable of—saw it on Peter’s face and God only knew what was happening under his clothes. If she wanted to save Peter, to save herself and Milly, too, she couldn’t let that happen to her.

No, she had to bide her time, and that meant sitting still and listening to the same grinding metal moving on the other side of the room. Then the door slamming shut.

Finally, she allowed herself to breathe, to let all the anger flow away.

Stay alive. Nothing matters if you can’t stay alive right now.

Gaby looked over at Peter again and felt a sickening knot in her gut. He looked even more awful than a few seconds ago, the discoloration around his face seemingly changing color at least a dozen times. The flesh around his right eye was now the size of a giant fist.

He’s going to die. Tonight. Tomorrow morning. But he’s going to die.

I’m sorry, Peter.

She sat back against the wall and closed her eyes and tried to think.

Options. What were her options?

Limited. But Will always told her there were options, some that were obvious, but most that were hidden. She just had to find them.

So what were her options right now?

She had to think.

Think!

Then it came to her.

The girl.

Gaby tried to find the small figure in the darkness, focusing in on where she last heard the girl moving around, the soft rustling of clothes.

“Hey,” Gaby said.

There was no answer.

“Have you ever heard of Beaufont Lake?”

Still nothing.

“There’s an island on it. Song Island. It’s safe. There’s even a hotel—”

The girl stepped out of the blackness with her head cocked slightly to one side. She had moved so quickly that Gaby was momentarily taken by surprise. There was a fleck of interest in the girl’s eyes. “You said an island?”

“Yes,” Gaby said.
Be careful. Don’t spook her.
“Song Island. Have you ever heard of it?”

“No.” She glanced behind her, as if trying to decide how to proceed. Maybe she was afraid of Harrison finding out she was even talking to the prisoner.

Easy does it. You have her attention now. Don’t lose it…

“It’s safe there,” Gaby said. “There’s a hotel. Electricity. Hot showers. Frozen food. And ice. When was the last time you had ice?”

The girl didn’t answer.

“I can take you there,” Gaby said.

The girl looked over at Peter, then back at her. “It’s near here?”

“It’s not far. A day’s drive. Maybe a couple of days on foot.”

The girl looked back into the shadows behind her a second time. With her hair out of her face, she was a lot younger than Gaby had first thought. Thirteen, maybe, like Milly.

“I know you don’t want to be here,” Gaby said. “I know you’re just staying because you don’t have a choice.”

The blue eyes seemed to confirm everything Gaby had just said. Or was she reading the kid all wrong?

God, please don’t let me screw this up.

“You can come with us,” Gaby said. “With Peter and me. And Milly, too. Did you see Milly? She’s about your age.”

“They took her,” the girl said.

“We can get her back and leave here, and you can come with us.”

“To the island?”

“Yes, to the island.”

Gaby did her best to control her rising excitement. She could almost imagine the girl’s brain working, absorbing the information. But she had to tread lightly. The girl was taking a risk. She knew that much. Harrison had left her here because there was no way Gaby or Peter could escape in their condition. Certainly Peter had no more fight left in him, and it was hard for her to do anything when she couldn’t even walk.

Even so, it bothered her that he had just left a little girl behind to watch them. Were the adults all busy somewhere with something else? Maybe there were guards on the other side of that door Harrison had gone through twice now. Maybe—

Concentrate on the girl! She’s your opening! Seize it!

“What’s your name?” Gaby asked.

“Claire,” the girl said.

“I can take you with me, Claire. You’ll be safe on the island.”

“Because the bloodsuckers can’t go there,” Claire said.

“Yes,” Gaby said. “How did you know—”

Claire whirled around and disappeared into the shadows.

“Wait, Claire,” Gaby said, but the girl was gone. She wanted to shout but was afraid of making too much noise in case there were guards outside the basement door.

She sighed and leaned back against the wall, crestfallen. All her hopes of escaping with Peter and Milly died inside her and all she could do was look at Peter, asleep—or somewhere between asleep and dead—next to her.

I’m sorry, Peter. I’m not good at saving people. Nate could have told you that.

And Matt.

And Josh…

There was the quick patter of footsteps just before Claire reappeared out of the darkness. The rifle was slung over her back, looking absurdly big against her slight frame. There was something else, too: Claire was clutching a small black microcassette voice recorder.

Gaby opened her mouth to ask what was happening when Claire shushed her by holding up her hand. The girl crouched in front of her and pressed the play button on the recorder and held it out as a familiar voice came through the tiny speaker:

“To any survivors out there, if you’re hearing this, you are not alone. There are things you need to know about our enemy—these creatures of the night, these ghouls. They are not invincible, and they have weaknesses other than sunlight—”

Lara! It was Lara’s voice!

“—One: you can kill them with silver. Stab them, shoot them, or cut them with any silver weapon, and they will die. Two: they will not cross bodies of water. An island, a boat—get to anything that can separate you from land. Three: some ultraviolet light has proven effective, but flashlights and lightbulbs with UV don’t seem to have any effect. We don’t know why, so use this information with caution. If you’re hearing this message, you are not alone. Stay strong, stay smart, and adapt. We owe it to those we’ve lost to keep fighting, to never give up. Good luck.”

The message ended, and Claire clicked off the recorder. “You said an island. Not far from here?”

Gaby nodded anxiously. “Yes. It’s called Song Island.”

“And she’s right? The creatures can’t go there?”

“Yes. She’s right. They can’t.”

“She’s not lying? You promise?”

“She’s not lying. I promise.” Then, “Where did you record that from, Claire?”

“Donna has a small radio that she listens to every now and then. It’s our father’s; he used to listen to talk radio on it. Donna thinks the government might still be out there, but I told her it wasn’t. A few nights ago, we heard this. It keeps changing channels, so I decided to record it just in case we couldn’t find it again.”

“Did you try to radio them back?”

“Can’t. You can only pick up stuff with the radio.”

“Do the others know about it? Harrison?”

“Donna tried telling him, but he doesn’t believe it.” She frowned. “I think he doesn’t care. He likes it here. The way things are.” She looked at Peter. “We don’t, though.”

“Who is Donna?”

“My sister.” She glanced back at Gaby and narrowed her eyes a bit. “How do I know the woman on the radio isn’t lying? How do I know
you’re
not lying? Everyone lies. Especially adults. Harrison lies all the time. He uses the kids to watch the roads and trick people. Like he did with you.”

“I swear I’m not lying, Claire.”

Claire watched her intensely, blue eyes squinting as if she could read Gaby if she stared long and squinted hard enough.

She’s too young to look so old.

“And you’ll take me with you?” Claire asked finally. “To the island? Swear it?”

“I swear it,” Gaby said.

“And Donna?”