CHAPTER ELEVEN
GARRETT REUNITED WITH OWEN and Don in front of the motor home.
They hadn’t seen him arguing with Lauren. He’d made sure they were out of sight. But she’d probably looked angry as she walked by. Her disheveled hair and just-kissed mouth must have given him away.
Shit.
Don’s eyes twinkled. “Didn’t convince her, did ya?”
“She knows we’re not going just for water.”
A cry of pain rang out from the RV, interrupting their conversation. It was Penny, having another contraction. She quieted after a few seconds, but the chill stayed in the air. Lauren had told them that her labor might last hours. Although they couldn’t help deliver a baby, they could make a safer environment for it to be born.
Garrett wanted to go now. “Are we ready to do this?”
“I’m ready,” Owen said.
“How are your arms?”
“Not too bad. They’ll probably be worse tomorrow.”
That was good, because Garrett needed Owen’s upper-body strength today. They put dark jackets over their light-colored shirts and gathered a cache of weapons. The arsenal included a hunting knife, a crowbar, a hammer and a baseball bat.
“I have a question,” Owen said, moistening his lips. “Well, maybe it’s more of a comment.”
“What?”
“Trying to knock them out and tie them up will be dangerous. If I have to hit Mickey with my hammer, I won’t hesitate.”
Garrett looked at Don, who glanced toward the dark corner, his brow furrowing. Garrett didn’t want murder to be the first option, but he understood where Owen was coming from. “Do whatever it takes.”
“You’ll use your knife?”
“Only in self-defense.”
Owen didn’t seem satisfied by that response.
“You think we should go for the kill, instead of a knockout?” Don asked.
After a short hesitation, Owen nodded.
Don’s brows rose, but not in disapproval. He deferred to Garrett.
Garrett wasn’t on board with that. “They might be drugged out of their minds. I’m not going to slit their throats while they’re sleeping.”
“They’d do it to us,” Owen asserted.
“How do you know?”
He just shrugged, as if he considered it basic human nature to disregard taking another person’s life.
Garrett didn’t blame Owen for the skewed view. He was young, and he’d spent his formative adult years in prison. Everything he’d learned about being a man was shaped by that experience.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Garrett said. “Mickey has a broken nose. His vision will be impaired. He’ll probably be disoriented, and unarmed. If he doesn’t resist, there’s no reason to use deadly force.”
“What about Jeb?”
“He’s the bigger threat by far. I’ll try to take him down with one swing.”
“That could be fatal,” Don remarked.
“Yeah, well. I won’t cry if it is.”
Owen smiled a little, hooking the hammer in his belt loop. He also grabbed a metal pipe. Don picked up the baseball bat. Garrett kept the knife, and slid the crowbar into the empty camel pack on his back. He wanted to keep his hands free for the approach.
The plan was simple. They’d sneak toward the enemy camp and surround it. As long as Jeb wasn’t inside the truck, Garrett would strike first. Owen and Don would follow up immediately with an attack on Mickey.
Silence was key. They couldn’t make a sound before the ambush.
Under the cover of darkness, they snuck toward Jeb’s corner. As they got closer, Garrett could smell the stolen chili cooking. His stomach growled with hunger. He glanced at Owen, whose pale eyes gleamed like a wild animal’s in the dim light. If Garrett could hazard a guess, he’d say that Owen was willing, at that moment, to kill for food.
They ducked behind a wall of rubble, the last protective barrier between them and the truck. Garrett peeked over it, studying the scene. They’d made a fire in a hubcap. Jeb was sitting on the tailgate, chowing down. Mickey was slumped over in the passenger seat, snoring.
Garrett needed to hit Jeb from behind. Once he was disarmed, it didn’t matter which direction Don and Owen came from.
He crouched down low again, deliberating. The configuration of demolished vehicles was different after last night’s derby. None of the cars were close enough to provide adequate cover. Garrett would have to sneak around the truck and hope Jeb didn’t see him.
“I’m going to army-crawl over there,” he whispered to Don and Owen. “Stay silent. Don’t do anything until I hit him.”
They both nodded in understanding.
Garrett adjusted the crowbar on his back, making sure it was secure. There was nothing like clinking metal to give away your position. He weaved through the shadows until he reached the edge of the wall at the west end. When he could go no farther without catching Jeb’s attention, he dropped to his belly and started crawling.
The distance between the first blackened vehicle and the second was easy to traverse. He moved as fast as possible, aware that Jeb’s eye might be drawn to the motion. Blood thundering in his ears, he slipped behind the next obstacle.
Had Jeb spotted him?
Apparently not, as no gunfire followed in his wake. Garrett craned his neck to look around the wheel well. Jeb was in his direct line of sight, scraping the bottom of the chili can. He tossed aside the trash with a satisfied belch. To Garrett’s amazement, he grabbed a beer from the back of the truck and cracked it open, taking a long pull.
These bastards still had alcohol.
Well, good. If Jeb was under the influence, he’d be sluggish and easier to overtake. From this angle, Garrett could see the butt of the gun, shoved into the waistband of Jeb’s prison-issue blue jeans.
There was one more car between Garrett and the pickup. It was just a burned-out frame, offering very little cover. But there was nothing else to hide behind.
Pulse racing, he bolted into the open space, edging along the debris-strewn asphalt. Although he tried to move silently, the tips of his boots scraped the grit. Sharp pebbles bit into his knees and elbows, making him wince. It seemed to take forever to reach the next car frame. When he did, he felt dangerously exposed.
He stretched as flat as possible, his heart hammering against the cold concrete. Jeb took another chug of beer, oblivious.
Garrett took a deep breath and psyched himself up for the final stretch. He couldn’t stay here long; he was too vulnerable. Jeb was staring at the embers in the hubcap, and hadn’t glanced in his direction. It was go time.
As he started crawling again, he made an epic miscalculation. He’d skirted too close to the car frame. The bent end of the crowbar got caught in the front bumper, halting his progress and scraping metal against metal.
Jeb heard the telltale sound. He leapt to his feet, brandishing the gun.
F*ck.
“Who’s there?”
Garrett couldn’t scramble backward, and he sure as hell couldn’t continue moving forward. Sliding the crowbar free, he rolled underneath the car and waited, breathless, for Jeb to walk toward him.
* * *
LAUREN REJOINED PENNY and Cadence in the RV, locking the door behind her.
Both girls looked scared. Penny was about to give birth under the worst possible circumstances. Cadence’s grandfather had banded with a group of vigilante marauders. The two were huddled on the bed, clasping hands.
Lauren’s chest tightened at the touching sight. Her feelings for these girls went deeper than professional concern. She’d grown fond of them.
“Any more contractions?” she asked Penny.
“Just one.”
Instead of keeping her distance, Lauren climbed in beside Cadence and covered their linked hands with hers. The closeness felt strange, but good. Reaching out to others in a nonmedical way was unusual for her.
“My parents do this,” Cadence said, sniffling. “Sometimes, when I have a nightmare, they both hug me until I fall asleep.”
Lauren’s throat closed up. She hadn’t been allowed to climb into bed with her parents. Her mother had worn a silk eye mask every night, and protected her sleep at all costs. Her father, the more affectionate of the two, had often been away on international flights.
Thinking back, Lauren’s relationship with Michael had been similar. Due to late shifts and varied schedules, they’d rarely slept together. When he had come home to crash, he’d preferred separate rooms.
Penny sat forward suddenly, gripping the sheets on the bed. She cried out in pain, her face twisted into a grimace.
Lauren noted the time and duration of the contraction. It passed quickly. After about twenty seconds, Penny relaxed. She settled into a reclining position, her hands splayed across her huge stomach.
“Okay now?” Lauren asked.
“I think so.”
“Baby still moving around?”
“Yes. I just felt a kick.”
Lauren stroked Cadence’s soft hair, pondering her exchange with Garrett. His behavior had disturbed her on many levels. She didn’t like the idea of him taking advantage of her feelings, using her attraction against her. But the kiss hadn’t seemed premeditated. He’d acted as though he couldn’t help himself.
Again, she wondered what was holding him back. If he had a girlfriend, was their relationship in trouble? Maybe he’d been planning to break things off, but hadn’t. Maybe their love had faded.
What if they had children together?
Her stomach clenched with distress. She had to focus on something else. Worrying about Garrett was making her crazy.
“Do you have brothers and sisters?” Lauren asked Cadence.
“No. It’s just me.”
“I have two little sisters,” Penny said. “One is your age.”
“Eleven?”
“She just turned twelve. She’s a sweetheart, like you. The other is sixteen and so full of herself.”
Cadence giggled at the description. “I always wanted a sister. Two sisters, so we could be in a dance group like Destiny’s Child.”
“You like to dance?” Penny asked.
She nodded. “I take ballet and hip-hop.”
“Do you watch ABDC?”
“All the time! It’s my favorite show.”
“What show is this?” Lauren asked.
“America’s Best Dance Crew,” Cadence explained in a rush. “Last season was so amazing. I got the Wii game for Christmas. It’s supercool. My friends come over and we dance to the songs.”
Lauren tried to remember the last time she’d gone dancing, and couldn’t. Her social life was sadly lacking. Two of her best friends had gotten married last year. One moved away, and the other had a baby. Although Lauren had attended some work functions and family parties in the past few months, it wasn’t the same as a girls’ night out.
Cadence jumped up to demonstrate a new technique, making Lauren smile. She was so adorable and full of energy. Even Penny, whose mouth was pinched with discomfort, seemed to enjoy the girl’s performance.
A sharp crack brought the fun to a halt.
Cady scrambled back toward the bed. “What was that?”
Lauren put her arms around the trembling girl. Over the top of her hair, she met Penny’s frightened eyes. She wanted to assuage their fears, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “It sounded like a gunshot.”
* * *
OWEN WATCHED THE events unfold with disbelief.
If he didn’t do something, Jeb was going to discover Garrett’s hiding place and open fire. Making a split-second decision, he picked up a chunk of concrete from the pile of rubble and chucked it at Jeb’s head.
He missed by a few inches.
The rock bounced off Jeb’s left shoulder. He let out a startled yelp and turned around, swinging the barrel of the gun toward Owen.
Shit.
“What the f*ck,” Jeb growled.
Owen ducked down and looked for another rock to throw, but couldn’t find one. Don stared at him, thunderstruck. They were doomed if they stayed where they were. They’d be shot at if they tried to flee.
Out of options, Owen lifted Don to his feet and shoved him in the opposite direction. “Run!”
To his credit, Don took off like a lightning bolt. Owen tore after him, hoping like hell that Garrett would use this opportunity to escape. Jeb saw them running, of course, and opened fire. The hard pop of gunshots echoed in his ears as bullets ripped through the cavern. One split the air near Owen’s right arm.
Ten feet ahead of him, Don cried out and staggered to the ground.
He’d been hit.
Owen sailed past him, diving behind a smashed car. Another bullet penetrated the hood and ricocheted around the engine compartment. He covered his head with his arms and waited for more gunshots, his body trembling.
Don’s face was only a few feet away. His eyes were dark with pain. “Go,” he whispered to Owen.
“Is he coming?”
Don looked over his shoulder, wincing. “I can’t see him.”
Owen didn’t know how many shots Jeb had fired, or how many bullets he had left, but he wasn’t going to abandon Don. F*ck that. His ears were ringing so loud that he couldn’t hear approaching footsteps. He snuck a glance around the side of the car.
Jeb wasn’t coming.
Bastard. He must have gone back for Garrett.
Owen couldn’t do anything about that, so he focused on helping Don. “Where are you hit?”
“My thigh,” Don said. His face was pale, and he was short of breath. “It’s bad.”
“Can you walk?”
“I don’t think so.”
Keeping an eye out for Jeb, Owen crawled out from behind the vehicle. “Roll over so I can drag you,” he whispered. Working together, they got Don on his back. Owen grabbed him by the arms and pulled him to relative safety.
Don’s head lolled to the side as he lost consciousness. His pants leg was ripped above the knee, and soaked in blood.
Owen didn’t know what to do. He took off his jacket, looking for something to slow the bleeding. Garrett had been carrying rope in his backpack. Panicking, Owen yanked his T-shirt over his head and tore it down the middle. He wrapped the strip of cloth around Don’s thigh and tied it as tight as he could.
Then he paused, listening for Jeb. There was no gunfire, no footsteps.
Christ. What a clusterf*ck. Could the plan have gone any worse?
He couldn’t waste time worrying about Garrett, so he started dragging Don away. The old man was heavy. Owen had no idea if he was doing more damage by moving him. He’d heard somewhere that you weren’t supposed to move injured people. But what else could he do, leave him there for Jeb and Mickey?
Panting from exertion, Owen focused on getting to the RV. The glow of light from their side of the cavern beckoned him. As he got closer, Owen could see the pallor of Don’s skin and the bright red blood smear in his wake. He went as fast as he could, but the muscles in his arms and back were on fire. When he arrived, he was dripping sweat.
Lauren burst through the door, her blue eyes wide. “What happened?” she asked, kneeling to examine Don.
“He’s shot.”
Cadence ran outside to join them. “Grandpa!” she screamed, hugging his limp form.
Penny stood in the doorway, her hand on her belly. She looked flushed and scared and miserable.
“Where’s Garrett?” Lauren demanded.
“Back there,” Owen said.
“Did he get shot, too?”
“I don’t know, but we need to get out of sight.”
“I’m not leaving my grandpa,” Cadence said. She stared up at Owen, her teeth chattering and her cheeks wet with tears.
He felt sadness settle into his chest, along with a hefty measure of guilt. Earlier today, he’d felt like a hero. Now he knew he’d been fooling himself. He’d really thought he could help these people? What a joke.
Everything he touched turned to shit.
“Go inside and lock the door,” Lauren told Penny. She stood, taking Don’s legs. “Let’s get him to triage.”
Owen grabbed Don’s arms and helped Lauren carry him to the tent. He was surprised by how much of his weight she managed. Cadence followed them, sobbing. They set Don on an empty stretcher next to Sam.
“You tied your T-shirt around his leg?” Lauren asked.
He glanced at Cadence, covering the symbol on his upper chest with a shaking hand. Although she wasn’t looking, he’d never been more deeply ashamed of his tattoos. The ones across his torso were the most offensive. He wanted to crawl under a rock and die.
Hadn’t she suffered enough?
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Owen said.
“By stanching the blood flow, you saved his life,” Lauren said. “That was smart.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“I’m not sure.”
Owen thought she was staying positive for Cadence’s benefit. He doubted Don would survive the wound, so Owen’s T-shirt tourniquet made no difference.
Keeping his palm pressed to his pectoral muscle, he slipped outside, avoiding Cadence’s tearful gaze. If someone had told him a week ago that he’d rather cut off his skin than hurt a little girl’s feelings, he’d have laughed in their face. But the last few days had changed him, brought him a step closer to the man he wanted to be.
Still, he was no hero. Although Garrett needed him—assuming he was still alive—Owen hesitated. He stared into the dark, reluctant to go on a suicide mission. His nerves were jangled, his feet glued to the ground.
If the situations were reversed, he knew Garrett wouldn’t leave him hanging. Chickening out was not an option. So he removed the hammer from his belt loop and receded into the darkness once again, ready to fight.
* * *
GARRETT CURSED UNDER his breath as Jeb lit up the cavern with gunfire.
One of the bullets struck the wall above his hiding place. Debris rained down on the ground near him and concrete dust tickled his nose. He didn’t dare inhale for fear of choking on the cloud.
Jeb had fired twice in the opposite direction. Garrett didn’t think it was a coincidence. Don and Owen must have done something to draw his attention.
In the ensuing chaos, Garrett couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Both of his comrades might be lying dead or bleeding. He needed to find an opportunity to escape so he could help them.
Swallowing hard, he listened for movement. Either Jeb had bad aim, or he didn’t know where Garrett was. Banking on the latter, he edged out from underneath the car and took a quick glance around it.
Jeb kept his gun raised as he scanned the immediate area. Mickey had opened the passenger door of the truck. He looked groggy.
“Follow me,” Jeb ordered Mickey. “Not too close, though.”
Garrett ducked back down, his blood pumping with adrenaline. Jeb was going to come after him. He couldn’t hide and hope for the best. Figuring it was do-or-die, Garrett burst from behind the blackened car and made a run for it. He sprinted toward the next vehicle, abandoning stealth in favor of speed.
Sure enough, Jeb spotted him and opened fire. The car’s front windshield exploded, sending a waterfall of glass across the broken asphalt. Now that he’d been seen, Garrett had no choice but to keep going. He headed toward the east wall and ran away from the RV, keeping his head as low as possible.
Garrett had made a grievous error in underestimating Jeb. He might be stupid enough to get drunk, crash into parked cars and waste water, but he was stingy with his bullets. He also didn’t let down his guard.
While Garrett weaved through the shadows, crouching behind any object that would provide cover, Jeb followed close behind, stalking him with the patience of an experienced hunter.
This motherf*cker had probably grown up in backwoods Alabama. Garrett had known plenty of military men like him. They could chew through swamp grass, wrestle gators and shoot the balls off a squirrel at a hundred yards.
Mickey’s footsteps echoed in the distance. Jeb’s approach was silent.
Garrett skirted around another car, almost losing his balance as his boot slipped in a large puddle of blood. It looked bad, but not as bad as a dead body. There was a chance that Owen and Don had made it back to the RV.
The shadows shifted, edging closer.
Cursing silently, Garrett darted behind another vehicle, aware that he was leaving bloody footprints in his wake. He was also sweating, his body emanating fear and nervous energy. Jeb might be able to smell him.
In another few strides, his back was literally against the wall. He’d arrived at the pile of rubble where they’d buried the dead.
Garrett considered circling around and attempting another ambush. But Jeb would be ready for it this time. So would Mickey.
Working quietly, he removed some of the rocks from the tarp. Before he could rethink the decision, he crawled in among the dead bodies, making a space next to Mrs. Engle. He tried not to identify any specific parts. Grimacing, he covered himself up and waited.
He didn’t know how he endured it. Minutes felt like hours. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Every shallow inhale felt like death creeping into his lungs. The burned corpses had smelled awful when fresh. Now, the stench was unbearable.
Garrett suffered from a lack of oxygen, and an overabundance of imagination. He thought he could hear maggot activity. The soft squish of decomposition sent chills down his spine. His cheek was pressed against exposed bone, his hands buried in gore. If he had to hide here for much longer, he’d go crazy.
He couldn’t think about Lauren. No. In a place like this, recalling a woman’s taste and scent was impossible. A sacrilege.
In a dark corner of his mind, he was aware of Jeb’s voice. Garrett couldn’t make out his exact words, but he noted that the conversation wasn’t whispered or low pitched. They didn’t know Garrett was nearby.
Soon, the sound faded.
Garrett stayed still for as long as possible before he crawled out of the makeshift grave, bits of rotten flesh clinging to him. There was no sign of Jeb or Mickey. He replaced the rocks on the tarp, trying not to vomit.
“Wait until you try to climb again, hero!” Jeb’s shout echoed across the cavern. “I’ll be watching you.”
The taunt came from the north end, so Garrett knew Jeb couldn’t see him. Ignoring it, he beat a silent retreat toward the motor home. The lights inside the RV and triage tent created a soft glow in the middle of the cavern. Garrett was so focused on getting to safety that he almost jumped out of his skin when a figure rose up from the shadows.
Owen stepped forward, his hammer raised. When he recognized Garrett, he lowered the weapon slowly, covering his nose with the crook of his arm.
“F*ck,” he choked. “You stink.”
“Where’s Don?”
“In the tent with Lauren,” he said, gesturing with the hammer. “He’s in bad shape.”
“What happened?”
“We tried to run away, and...he got shot.”
Garrett struggled against a wave of guilt. This was his fault. He’d gotten his crowbar caught on the bumper and miscalculated his opponent. His plan had been faulty, his intelligence flawed and his execution a disaster.
“Where were you?” Owen asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said curtly, removing his sweatshirt. Using a clean edge of fabric, he wiped away some of the grime as they walked back to camp.
Owen had also taken off his jacket and shirt. Jailhouse tattoos covered his lean torso. White Pride was written in Old English lettering in an arch over his stomach. There was a burning cross on his upper chest.
Garrett shook his head at the sight, feeling numb. They were a couple of miscreants. Owen just broadcast his flaws, while Garrett hid his deep inside.
“Do you think they’ll come after us?” Owen asked.
“Hopefully not tonight.”
As they approached the RV, a muffled cry of pain rang out. It was Penny. They exchanged an uncomfortable glance.
“Is anyone in there with her?” Garrett asked.
“No.”
“Well, go help her.”
“Me?”
“Who else?”
Owen contemplated the door of the RV, gulping with trepidation. Garrett suspected that he was more intimidated by women in labor than men with guns. “Okay,” he said anyway, preparing to go inside.
Garrett thought about telling him to put a shirt on first, but he had more important issues to deal with. Don might be dead or dying. He continued toward the triage tent, determined to face the consequences of his actions.