The Fires of Atlantis (Purge of Babylon, Book 4) (18 page)

Oh crap,
Gaby thought when the man launched up from the chair at the sight of her.

But he had moved too fast, and instead of getting a grip on his assault rifle and putting it to use, he instead fumbled with it for a split-second. It was just long enough for Gaby to lift the M4 and shoot him once in the belly. The man stumbled back into his chair, tipping it over. He looked more stunned than hurt.

She shot him a second time, and he crumpled to the floor, the rifle clattering away.

There were kids in the hall, and they began screaming. The instant increase in decibel was so startling for everyone, including Gaby, that for a moment even the sound of gunfire from outside the building was drowned out by the cries.

Move move move!

Horrified faces turned toward her as Gaby rushed out of the hallway, the M4 in front of her, sweeping the room, looking for a target, anything that even resembled danger. Her left hand tightened around the grip as her right eye settled behind the sight.

The large hall was built to accommodate hundreds of people at one time, though at the moment there were only a couple dozen inside. Half of them were kids, the other half adult women. They all looked unarmed—or at least, no one reached for a weapon—when they saw her.

That is, except for the woman sitting at the bar with a shotgun resting on the countertop next to her. The woman was reaching for the weapon when Gaby swiveled the carbine around and stared at her. The woman froze and for a brief second, Gaby was sure the woman’s hand would keep going.

But it didn’t. Thank God it didn’t.

Instead, the woman took her hand away from the shotgun as if it had become hazardous to her health.

“Sit down,” Gaby said.

The woman did as ordered.

“Gaby!” a voice shouted.

Milly scrambled up from the floor across the room where she had been sitting with some kids and rushed toward her. A woman made a grab for her, but Milly managed to slip through her hands.

The thirteen-year-old practically barreled into Gaby and grabbed at her waist, almost knocking her over. It was a good thing Milly was barely eighty pounds soaking wet, or she might have sent both of them tumbling to the floor.

She put a hand around the girl’s neck and hugged her back briefly. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” Milly said. “Where’s Peter?”

“Peter’s gone.”

“‘Gone’?” She squinted up at Gaby. “Gone where?”

“He’s gone,” Gaby said again, hoping the girl would understand.

Milly did. Or she understood enough to frown.

“This is Claire and Donna,” Gaby said. “We’re leaving this city, okay?”

Milly nodded back mutely.

The kids had stopped screaming, but some were still sniffling. The women held them, fear and anger flashing across their faces as Gaby and the three girls moved toward the doors. They, like the windows around them, were reinforced with slabs of wood, with burglar bars on the outside.

“Keep moving to the door,” Gaby said. She picked up the shotgun from the bar counter as they passed it by. The woman glared at her but didn’t say anything. “Move from that stool and I shoot you, understand?”

The woman didn’t respond, but she “understood,” all right.

“Claire, the rifle,” Gaby said.

Claire rushed forward and picked up the AK-47 from the dead man. She already looked ridiculous lugging the Winchester around, but now with the assault rifle too, the sight of her was almost comical.

Gaby turned around and backpedaled after the girls. She scanned the faces looking back at her. Some of the children were still crying, and others had their faces buried in the women’s chests.

“Tell Harrison not to come after us,” Gaby said loudly.

No one responded.

Donna had already led Claire and Milly outside. Gaby walked backward, careful not to step over the dead man (or into blood spreading out like tentacles from under his still body) and slipped through the opening. She was instantly reassured by the warmth of the bright sun
(It’s still light out, thank God)
splayed against her back.

Donna pushed the doors closed as soon as Gaby stepped outside. “What now?”

“We head south. After that, we’ll figure it out. You lead the way.”

She tossed the shotgun down on the sidewalk and took the AK-47 from Claire. They jogged across the street after Donna, who was already moving swiftly ahead with the heavy supply bag slung over one shoulder. She was definitely stronger than she looked.

Gaby glanced back at the VFW building, expecting the doors to open and the adult women to rush outside, guns blazing. Maybe they had hidden the guns somewhere and were scrambling for them now. Or maybe they had run to the basement and gotten the rifles down there. She wondered how they would react when they saw Peter bleeding to death down there. Did they know that was part of Harrison’s MO? Claire knew, and so did Donna. She had a hard time believing a group of adult women didn’t know, too.

I’m sorry, Peter. I’ll take care of Milly for you. I promise.

The VFW hall’s doors remained closed behind her, so she spun around before stealing a quick look down at her watch: 5:15 p.m.

Too close. We’re cutting it way too close…

T
hey left
the streets as soon as possible in case they were being pursued. Fortunately, both Donna and Claire seemed to know where they were going. The two sisters led them through alleyways, then empty buildings, stores, and even diners. Whenever Gaby thought they had run into a dead end or cul-de-sac, the girls found a side or back door or knew a way around a fence or wall.

Gaby didn’t know the path, but she knew where they were headed: south.

That was all that mattered. South took them back to Song Island.

South took her home.

South.

They spent almost thirty minutes steadily making progress toward the city limits, and the entire time Gaby could hear gunfire continuing unabated behind them. The battle seemed to just keep going and going, growing in intensity with every passing minute. She kept expecting it to die down as the fight wore on, but it never did.

Gaby kept her eyes on the sky. There were no clouds, and the sun was still bright. She guessed they had an hour, tops, before nightfall. Probably less than that. More like fifty minutes. A part of her wanted to start looking for a place to hide, but they couldn’t afford that. Not yet.
Not yet.

“The soldiers,” Gaby said to Donna as the teenager guided them through a series of empty buildings near the edge of the city. “Have you ever seen them before?”

“Not these ones,” Donna said. “But I’ve seen others come through in the past. Not soldiers, but guys with guns. Some of them wore those weird CDC suits.”

She means collaborators in hazmat suits.

“They would search for supplies and keep going,” Donna continued. “We have early warning systems all over the city, so when someone shows up, we know right away. Usually we can hear the vehicles coming for miles. Harrison decides how we react—either hide from them, or if he thinks they’re easy prey, then lure them into a trap.”

Donna glanced over at her almost apologetically when she said that last part.

Like with Milly, and the boy in the darkened hallway…

She wondered whatever happened to the boy. She hadn’t seen him back at the VFW hall. Then again, she had been moving so fast, looking for adults with guns, that it wasn’t as if she had actually paid attention to the kids.

“What makes these soldiers different?” she asked.

“Harrison says they’re here for something and we have to stop them. But he always says that when he wants us to do something dangerous. It’s always ‘we this,’ ‘we that.’ He’s good at rallying the troops.”

“But not you.”

Donna shook her head. “Harrison’s a bullshit artist. He’s out for himself, and he’s just using the rest of us to do it. Claire and me, and a lot of the others back there, just go along with it because it’s safer in there than out here.”

Gaby nodded and didn’t ask anymore. She didn’t blame the sisters for siding with Harrison. Donna was right. It was easier to survive in there, even under Harrison’s thumb, than out here alone with just the two of them.

I would probably do the same.

They stopped to rest inside a Sonic Drive-In and Gaby looked out the front windows at train tracks. There were a couple of houses scattered on the other side of the streets and more businesses to the left and right of them. She listened, but the only sounds were the distant echoes of gunshots behind her.

Donna pointed at a two-lane highway with wide shoulders that ran across the tracks. “That’s Route 13. It’s got other names, but we just called it Lucky 13.”

“Lucky 13?” Gaby said.

“You know, teenagers. Anyways, it leads straight through the countryside. Lots of fields, farms, that kind of stuff. On the other end is Interstate 10.”

“How far?”

“About thirty miles. It’d be easier and faster if we had a car.”

“You know where to get one that still works?”

“Harrison has garages around the city where he stashes working vehicles and gasoline.”

“Back in the city?”

“Yeah.”

“Any of them close to us now?”

Donna thought about it, then shook her head. “No, sorry. I should have told you about them earlier.”

“It’s my fault for not asking you sooner,” Gaby said. Then, “What’s between here and I-10?”

“Not a whole lot, unless you count farms. Guys from town used the highway for drag racing because it’s essentially thirty miles of nothing. Sometimes the farmers complain, but most of the time they don’t care. The Dunbar cops don’t bother going out that far, either.”

Gaby looked over at Milly, crouched silently next to her. The girl was glancing over her shoulder. At first Gaby thought she was listening to the fading gunfire but quickly realized Milly was turned in the direction where she assumed Peter was at the moment. Gaby didn’t want to tell her that after all the back alleys and side streets and zigzag turns they had taken, Milly was looking in the wrong direction.

Instead, she put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Milly pursed her lips into an attempted smile. “Peter wanted me to get you to the island,” Gaby said. “And that’s what I’m going to do, okay?”

Milly nodded back in silence before looking away again.

“Okay,” Gaby said. “Let’s go. Once we’re out of the city limits, we need to start looking for a place to stay the night, so keep your eyes open.”

The others nodded.

Gaby lifted her M4 and slipped out through the Sonic’s glass doors. The three teenagers followed closely behind her with no one saying a word.

Behind them, the shooting continued in sporadic bursts, but now there were noticeably long lulls between sustained volleys. The gunfight was almost over. Gaby wondered who was winning before deciding that she didn’t care. They could all go to hell as long as she was on her way south…

T
he darkening sky
was like a physical heaviness trying to bury her along the shoulder of the road. She pushed on with the girls because there was no other choice. They couldn’t turn back now. It was much too late for that. They had to keep going forward.

South.

Toward home.

Claire walked with the Winchester in her hands, looking every bit like a soldier. Her sister Donna remained up front, leading the way, even though there wasn’t really much in the way of navigation. There was only forward. Milly kept pace alongside Gaby but was flagging with every passing minute. Pretty soon, the girl was going to ask to sit down to rest. Gaby kept waiting to hear those words and was surprised she never did.

Maybe she’s tougher than I give her credit for.

The shooting behind them had mostly faded with time and distance. There were still occasional echoes, but it took a lot of effort to actually pick them out of the silence now. Instead of focusing on what was back there, she had been concentrating on what was around them. Or, to be more specific, what
wasn’t
around them.

Gaby searched for a building, a house, or a store. Hell, even a shack. Someplace where they could get out from under the open skies.

Too close. We’re cutting it too close…

Donna wasn’t wrong when she said there wasn’t much between Dunbar and I-10. Route 13 was barren and low to the ground. The highway was surrounded by vast, flat, and empty scenery, and they were still too close to town to spot any farmland, not to mention the houses (shelter) that would be sitting on them. There were also no vehicles in sight. She hadn’t spotted a car since they left the city behind twenty minutes ago.

“Donna,” Gaby said. “We need to find shelter.”

Donna nodded and glanced around them, turning a full 360 degrees. Gaby could practically see the gears turning inside the girl’s head.

“Donna,” Gaby said. “We need a place.”

“I’m thinking,” Donna said.

“Think faster,” Claire said, sneaking a look at the darkening clouds above them.

“Shut up already,” Donna said. Then, after a while, she turned to Gaby. “Okay, I know a place. It’s not far from here, but you might not like it.” And at Claire, “You’re definitely going to hate it.”

“I can take it if you can,” Claire said.

“We’ll see.”

“Does it have a basement?” Gaby asked.

“It sort of has a basement,” Donna said.

“Sort of?”

Donna shrugged. “We don’t have a whole lot of choices, do we? It’ll be dark in half an hour.”

“Okay,” Gaby nodded reluctantly. “Take us there.”

Donna led them over to the ditch, then down into it and back up again onto the other side. They followed her across flat, undeveloped land for five, then ten minutes. With every step they left the highway behind, but there was no way to leave the graying sky above them. It chased them wherever they went, undeterred and inevitable.

D
onna wasn’t kidding
when she said they might not like the place she had in mind.

It was a cemetery.

Milly’s face grew paler as they neared the wrought-iron fences that surrounded the place. They walked alongside it for a minute or so before entering through the open front gates with a big sign that read, “Dunbar City Cemetery.”