The Spears of Laconia (Purge of Babylon, Book 7) (50 page)

He spent another hour looking for Luke and Bill’s vehicle. He was sure it was out there somewhere, like their packs. They couldn’t have humped all the way out here on foot, could they? It was possible, but where would they have stayed last night? He was obviously dealing with a two-man kill team. He wouldn’t have been surprised to learn there were identical squads crawling all over Texas at the moment, making life miserable for the collaborators.

But despite his confidence, he didn’t find a vehicle anywhere in the vicinity. Either the men had hidden it too well, or they really had been dropped off. Both were possible, and neither one did him any good at the moment. He considered expanding his search range, but that would have taken much too long, and time was, as always, not on his side.

Keo walked about a mile up the highway, sticking to the ditch alongside it to stay mostly hidden, before finally stopping when his stomach growled again. He took a break and opened one of the cans, devouring the beans inside using the spork. He noticed there was still blood along one of the tines but ignored it.

He opened one of the pouches around his waist and took out the map he had spotted earlier while removing the belt from Luke. It was heavily marked, with collaborator towns circled in red ink, including T18 just outside of League City. The new map was almost identical to the one he had taken from Gregson, but with a few notable additions. One had a rough drawing of a star within a circle next to a town called Larkin, Texas. A second star-within-a-circle marked Lochlyn, about twenty miles northwest of his current location. As far as he could tell, Lochlyn was a small place in the middle of nowhere. Both new locations had crude drawings of planes next to them.

Airfields. That’s how they’re getting in and out of Texas. Using private, isolated airfields hidden in the countryside.

He glanced up at the sky, then down at his watch. Five hours of sunlight left. If he didn’t stop to rest again, he could easily make Lochlyn before nightfall.

And then what?

He had limited options, but one of them was to continue on to T18 and try to rescue Gillian, which would mean fighting his way back into a town he had already barely survived the first time. But she was in there, and she was in danger, and goddammit, he owed it to her and Jordan to get her out before Mercer’s people attacked again.

What was the alternative?

Go to Lochlyn, find Mercer, and kill him.

If
the man was even there, and
if
putting a bullet between Mercer’s eyes stopped this—whatever “this” was. But then again, what was a snake without its head? If killing Mercer stopped the war, then Gillian would be safe. Her and the baby and
(Fuck you)
Jay.

Two possibilities. Two directions. They weren’t much, but there it was.

Lochlyn was closer, but what were the odds Mercer was even there? Fifty-fifty? Ten-ninety, against? Maybe he’d get to Lochlyn and there wouldn’t be anyone there at all. Those plane markers, for all he knew, could have just been doodling, Luke’s way of passing the time.

The odds that Mercer was even there, that killing him would change anything, was slim. On the other hand, getting back into T18—even with Tobias’s help—and rescuing Gillian while the town was on lockdown was going to be a hell of a feat.

Shit. It was bad odds either way.

But he’d had worse.

He checked his watch again.

Keo got up, tossed away the empty can of beans, and climbed out of the ditch, jogging across the highway.

Fuck it,
he thought as he headed northwest.

“Irony”?

Was that the word? Sometimes he had difficulty grasping the easiest things. He blamed it on having too many voices inhabiting the same space inside his head, an unending tide of chatter, almost like being stuck in a small box with a few million other people, but maybe the answer was simpler. A lack of focus on things that didn’t matter, that was pushed into the background, because everything else in the forefront was crucial to his survival.

Maybe the word he was looking for was “poetic.”

Or “tragic.”

It had to be one of those. Sooner or later, it would come to him. It always did.

Just like how they had led him here. He hadn’t expected it, but here he was. He’d killed the two blue eyes outside of Starch, decapitated them in the woods and left their bodies to be found far, far from this place. It hadn’t been easy, and they had gotten their shots in, but he was always good at surviving.

Adapt or perish,
someone once said.

The night had dragged on, and through the seemingly endless throng of black eyes, he had arrived—hurt, bleeding, and badly in need of extra nights of healing. So what else was new? It seemed like that was all he did these days: fight, survive, and rest, in order to do it all over again.

He had abandoned his mission, left Keo and the woman to fend for themselves somewhere out there in the world. There hadn’t been any choice, because Danny was in danger. He and Gaby, and the boy, Nate. But Keo was still alive. He could feel him out there, somewhere. The connection wasn’t as strong as it could have been, but it was good enough.

And there was Mercer. Once a potential ally in possession of an army, with airpower and armor at his disposal. A plan months in the plotting
(“You’re with us, or you’re against us.”)
. Except Mercer wasn’t the answer he had been hoping for. No, Mercer was dangerous. Too dangerous to trust her with.

She was still out there, maybe still waiting for him. He wouldn’t blame her if she had given up. It had been days. Weeks? Months? It might have been months. It was sometimes difficult to keep track of the days and nights, because the days tended to blur by when all he could see whenever he opened his eyes was darkness.

But he had arrived at this place, where all the answers he had been searching for were waiting for him. The blue eyes had given it away. They thought they were hunting him, when in truth it was the other way around. Oh, they hadn’t wanted to, and they fought tooth and nail, but there were ways around that.

This was where it had all started, with that night in the dilapidated apartment building where he found salvation in a pair of silver crosses, just as he needed them the most. A sign from God, or just coincidence? He still didn’t know. Did God even exist? If the devil did, then shouldn’t God, too?

He slid carefully along the rooftop and lowered himself to the edge. The hulking shape of the highway, flat gray in the moonlight, impeded his vision. Metal, plastic, and aluminum carcasses of objects that no longer had any uses covered the mighty structure from end to end. And there, in the background, all the familiar buildings, the skyscrapers, the homes and offices of people who once called this place home.

Ironic.

That was the word he was searching for. It was ironic that he would end up back here, after all the months of running away from it.

Here, back at the heart of the infestation.

Back here, where the longest night of his life occurred, where he and Danny fought for hours to escape the hordes of undead.

Here. In this city. He was in there, somewhere.

Mabry.

The streets and highways and buildings were crammed with them. He was far enough beyond their reach that they couldn’t see or sense or smell him, but he would never be able to get any closer than he was now. They would guard Mabry with their lives, keep him from prying eyes night and day. The blue eyes were in there, too. He couldn’t fight them all, even if he was at full strength.

At least, not alone.

He could already feel Mabry stirring, sensing his nearness. How did he know? Because he was everywhere, and nowhere. Except that wasn’t true anymore. Mabry
was
somewhere. He was
here.

He turned and fled, leaping across rooftops, avoiding the black eyes below. All it would take was for one of them to look up and see him, and they’d swarm. He would never make it out alive.

Two rooftops, three…and the voices remained silent inside his head, a good sign he was still undiscovered. Faster and further. He had to keep going. Keep moving. It wasn’t safe here, not this close to Mabry.

He was bleeding again, the constant motion draining him, slowing him down with every step, every jump, every rooftop. He couldn’t allow that. Weakness lowered his guard, and he needed the mental walls even more now to keep back the voices, to stay beyond Mabry’s reach.

Rest. He needed to rest, and sleep, and heal.

He slowed only after he had left the world of brick and concrete behind and could feel soft earth under his feet. Gray gave way to green as he went deeper, and deeper still, into the woods.

Rest. He needed to rest.

And heal…

*

“Why do you
fight?”

Mabry. Calling out to him, trying to get him to reveal himself. He maintained the wall, but there was no denying Mabry’s voice. It burrowed deep, despite all his best attempts to drown it in memories of his old life, of her…

“You must know by now. There’s no point.”

He concentrated on the worms crawling over his arms and legs. Slippery things. Wet. Once upon a time, he would have been disgusted. Now, they were his daily companion.

“She’ll never accept you. None of them will.”

His eyes snapped open. Footsteps—a flood of bare feet—directly above him. Mabry’s scouts, spreading out into the darkness of the woods. Had Mabry sensed his closeness after all? Was he exposed? Something that might have been panic (or maybe just memories of what panic was) flooded his senses.

“But Kate was right about you.”

No, it was just a false alarm. The black eyes had continued into the woods, the tremors across the ground signaling their passing. It took a while because there were so many of them, but eventually, eventually they faded, until there was just the peace and quiet again.

“Your knack for survival is uncanny.”

He closed his eyes and raised extra mental defenses. He could feel Mabry groping at the corners of his mind. Close, so close, but still searching blind.

“You won’t give up, will you?”

Sleep. Rest. Heal.

“You’ll never give up.”

Soon, very soon, he would come face-to-face with the monster, and he would either slay him or be slayed by him. Soon, very soon, the end would come, and he would either rise victorious or fall. But he had to try. Because too many lives were at stake, especially hers. He would do anything—
everything—
to protect her, even if he couldn’t stand side by side with her when it was over.

“You’ll fight as long as there’s a breath in your body.”

Mabry was becoming agitated, scouring the connections between the brood with renewed intensity. Because Mabry was the constant voice, the hand that guided them
(me)
and soothed their worries. Without him, they
(we)
would be mindless things. Husks.

“You would have been such a worthy successor.”

Mabry was the beginning, and the end.

“Someone to carry on my legacy.”

The everything, and the nothing.

“Alas, alas…”

He was everywhere, and nowhere.

But that last part wasn’t true anymore, because he knew exactly where Mabry was now. The dying blue eyes had led him right to his doorstep.

Here, back in Houston, where it had begun almost a year ago.

Mabry was in there, somewhere.

Sleeping.

Hiding.

And very, very vulnerable…

The end is coming, but it’s not quite here yet. While we wait, please consider taking a moment to leave a review for
The Spears of Laconia
at a bookseller of your choice. Even a very short review would be much appreciated.

Meanwhile, the last mile to salvation begins in…

The Horns of Avalon

(Book 8 in the Babylon Series)

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The Purge of Babylon Series

The Purge of Babylon: A Novel of Survival (Book 1)

The Gates of Byzantium (Book 2)

The Stones of Angkor (Book 3)

The Walls of Lemuria: The Keo Storyline (Book 3.5)

The Fires of Atlantis (Book 4)

The Ashes of Pompeii (Book 5)

The Isles of Elysium (Book 6)

The Spears of Laconia (Book 7)

The Horns of Avalon (Book 8)

The Bones of Valhalla (Book 9)

The Allie Krycek Series