Shit. The blond was Laurie. Her headless corpse lay at an odd angle, half hidden by more barrels.
Jax shut down and jogged toward the nightmarish scene. He kicked the Ripper, who rolled over onto his back, eyes unseeing and dead. Blood coated the ground, adding the smell of copper to the stench of unwashed flesh and death. Turning, Jax scouted the one-level building. Mainly empty except for the barrels; only one room stood off to the side. Probably what used to be an office.
He waited for Wyatt to gain control and then started for the office. Before he reached the door, another man, this one wearing a torn and filthy baseball uniform, stumbled out dragging Pete. Blood dripped from a gaping hole in Pete’s neck, where his jugular had been bitten away. A white bone, the spine, stuck out at an odd angle.
“Jesus,” Wyatt muttered, taking aim and hitting the Ripper center mass in a kill shot. “Two Rippers? Working together?”
“Probably just temporarily with two victims.” Jax had seen wild, crazed Rippers as well as methodical, organized Rippers. “I’d give my left arm for a shrink or one of those FBI profilers from television.” He needed to know more about what he was dealing with.
Lightning lit up the night outside the open doorway.
Wyatt sighed. “We burning them?”
Jax rubbed his aching chest. “Did either of the kids have family?”
“No more than the rest of us.”
“Then we burn them here.” Carrying the bloody carcasses through the violent weather and then all the way back to the group didn’t make sense. “I’d rather nobody else saw them like this anyway.”
Wyatt stalked across the bloody ground and hefted Pete in one big hand and the Ripper in the other, dragging them both to the other bodies. “The Rippers were probably decent people at one point, too.”
Jax lifted an eyebrow. Wyatt had a way of seeing beyond the obvious, beyond the division between friend and enemy, into reality. “I’m glad you’re here,” Jax said.
Wyatt grimaced at the pile of death, his full lips set in a hard line. “I’m not.”
Fair enough. Jax reached for a small canister of lighter fluid to spray on the bodies. Then he stood back. “You’re the preacher.”
Wyatt sighed. “At some point, you’re gonna have to make a speech or give a eulogy, you know?”
“Not with you around.” Jax folded his hands and shoved down the urge to gag at the smell. “I lead with action, not words.”
“You need both.” Wyatt lowered his head. “God, please accept these four victims into your arms, and maybe send us some help while you’re at it. Amen.”
Jax swallowed. “Amen.” Was help coming? He needed to finish his discussion with Lynne before returning that message to Greg Lake.
Wyatt fumbled with a match.
“I’ve got it.” Jax held out a hand. Wyatt faltered and then dropped the match into his palm. Jax leaned down and struck the match on his boot, igniting fire, which he dropped on the piles. Laurie’s hair ignited first. He let out a low growl and then turned around. “Scout around and make sure there’s nothing here to take back.”
Wyatt went for the office, while Jax looked in the empty barrels and tried to ignore the stench of burning flesh. Finally, they met up at the door, both empty-handed.
Smoke billowed out. “Let’s take cover the hell away from here,” Jax muttered, leading the way into the storm and around several warehouses, most with open doors. Finally, he reached the overhang of a boat storage facility that looked out into the dark vastness of what used to be the city of Los Angeles. He hunkered down. “The rain should pass in a few minutes.”
Wyatt slid to sit beside him on the concrete, shaking out his wet baseball cap. “Maybe we should send larger scouting parties out.”
Jax nodded. “Yeah. Who’s in charge of that?”
Wyatt turned, and heat glimmered in his eyes. “You are.”
Jax blinked. “No—”
“Yes, man. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Whether you like it or not, you’re in charge of everything, and you have to know people to do it right.” Wyatt inched the hat back on his head.
“I know my soldiers.” Jax hunched his shoulders.
“I know, and that’s why our soldiers are still alive. But you haven’t taken over the rest of the camp. The entire group needs a leader, not just the fighters,” Wyatt said.
Jax’s throat tightened. “Wyatt—”
“I know.” Wyatt flicked a rock away from his hand. “It’s hard. Getting to know people now, caring about them, it’s hard. Because most of us aren’t going to make it.”
Jax exhaled slowly. “You think I’m a pussy.”
Wyatt grinned. “No. I think you’re the toughest guy I’ve ever met, and I owe you my life. Without question. But I think you need to step up fully, to take over the entire group, for us all to survive. It’s time.”
Jesus. Why couldn’t somebody else cater to the civilians and scouts? “Tace is usually the one trying to get me to open up.”
“Tace isn’t here.” Wyatt leaned his head back against metal. “We should talk about him. He’s worried.”
“If he’s worried, then he’s fine.” Jax stretched his legs out. Something poked his thigh, and he reached in for the newest gift from Lena.
Wyatt’s eyebrows rose. “That’s an odd rock.”
“Yeah.” Jax twisted the heart-shaped rock around in his hand. Blue dots, made by markers, formed a heart within the heart. “She’s always giving me rocks with a heart somehow cut or drawn on them.”
“Blue hearts?” Wyatt asked.
Jax stilled. “Sometimes.” No. No way. He shook his head. “Doesn’t mean anything. She’s a little girl who likes hearts, most do, and her favorite color is blue.” The girl had never spoken a word, and he truly had no idea who’d named her. “It’s a coincidence.” A chill skittered down his back.
“If you say so.” Wyatt stretched his neck. “She always gives me watches or clocks. All broken.”
Jax shuddered and glanced toward his buddy. “That’s kind of creepy.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps I remind her of a guy she knew who wore a watch.” Wyatt picked up a pebble to toss across the vacant area. “Or Scorpius messed with her brain and those rumors about possible psychics are true.” He grinned.
“You’ve never had the fever?”
Wyatt shook his head. “Nope. Not yet, anyway.”
All right. So. Jax cleared his throat. “How is April Snyder doing?” He couldn’t imagine losing a kid.
“Not good, but she’s trying. Is working at organizing the scavenging parties.”
“Good. Um, did you have family? Before Scorpius?”
Wyatt chuckled, the sound deeper than the storm. “This is you trying to connect?”
“Fuck you.” Jax glared at the darkness.
“Sorry. Okay. Yeah. I was raised by my mom, who was a paralegal. Smart as heck. The fever got her.” Wyatt rubbed his chin. “Before that, she was so damn proud when I graduated from Stanford and went to the NFL.”
Stanford? Man. Jax had fought next to the man for months, and he hadn’t known he’d gone to Stanford. “I figured you more for a Michigan State or Notre Dame guy.” Both had great teams.
“Yeah, but I wanted to stay in California close to my mom.” Wyatt shifted his feet.
“No wife or kids?” Jax glanced sideways at one of his friends and a man he should know a lot better than he did.
“Nope.” Lines cut into Wyatt’s face. “I was dating this woman, a cheerleader, and she was pretty cool. Gorgeous and smart.” He cleared his voice, and his chin dropped. “She, ah, got pregnant.”
Jax stilled. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Wyatt grasped another rock and side-armed it across the pavement. “I was, unsure, you know? Worried about how a kid would affect my life.” He shook his head. “I was an asshole.”
“I doubt that.” Jax shook his head.
Wyatt breathed in. “One day, I met her at the doctor’s office for one of those ultrasound things? Saw a baby move.” He rubbed his chest. “My baby.”