When Bill enters the weapons closet, he sits down and begins cleaning guns. The potent smell of lubricant fills my nostrils. I join him, watching as he carefully wipes each part down and then, when satisfied, puts them all back together. The entire time, he’s quiet. His eyes focus on his work.
My hands are greasy and black by the time we finish. We set the guns to the side and then begin cleaning rounds of ammunition. The copper tone gleams in the light as I rotate it between my fingers. I don’t usually carry an M4, but Cole seemed pleased to find one here, so I want to make sure it works. My mind wanders aimlessly while wiping down each one.
Keegan probably sat in this very same room and divvied out weapons before the first revolt. He might’ve cleaned his gun. He might’ve said some prayers. He might’ve felt Dad’s presence, guiding him through each step of the planning. I’ll never forget his green eyes greeting mine the morning of the main assault. I imagine him with me now. I need his strength.
I can’t go without you, Keegan.
But you can, and you will, Lexi.
Would Dad want us both to die for this?
Our destinies were decided long before we were able to choose. I think, even if you knew you’d die tomorrow, you’d still fight. Because your conscience, like Dad’s, would never allow you to be at peace if you didn’t.
But what if my courage fails? What if Sutton doesn’t make it? I feel like we’re wasting precious time.
You won’t fail because you’re my sister. And our blood runs the same … vulnerable but steady, not fearless, but courageous under fire despite our fears. Sutton has already made his choice. He’s courageous enough to die. That, alone, should be your inspiration.
I can’t bear the thought of losing my friends.
You’ve got to let that go. Our lives are grains of salt filtered by one large hand. Who we love and what we do doesn’t matter if we forget why we’re here in the first place.
Bill snorts, wrenching me from my thoughts. I jerk upward, dropping the ammo in my hands. It clatters to the floor. Bill gives me a weird look.
“Lusty, you all right?”
“Yeah … ” I wrinkle my forehead and gather up the ammo. My hands shake, and my heart beats fast.
I know Keegan’s right. I’ve got to let it all go—the painful losses of my family, Alyssa’s death from the virus, Sutton’s capture, Grace’s pregnancy, Cole lying about his past, and shooting Amber. All of these things battle for my energy, my attention. But I can’t let them have it. I can’t let the past cloud the task ahead of me.
“No you’re not. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
“Because I care about you. Not in the way you would hope though.”
“Ha! Thanks, Bill,” I say, giving him a warm smile. “I care about you as well, so please don’t get yourself killed out there, all right?”
“Aw, Lusty, I told you, I wanna be a hero … I’ll die with honor to get this done, if it’s what I need to do.”
“Me too. And by the way … I’m glad you’re here with us.”
“Thank ya. That means a lot to hear you say that. And you know, I might fight you for Zeus when we get out of here.”
“Not a chance in hell, Bill. But we can find you a dog of your own.”
“Now that right there sounds good to me. I’ve always wanted a companion that would put up with my craziness.” He rubs his hands together and then picks up a gun. “Now we’ve got to load these in.”
I place the magazine charger onto the magazine, and with my other hand, I pick up a ten-round clip. Using some force, I push the rounds into place, until the magazine is full. Then I take the extra clips and push them into a belt with seven pockets, each pouch holding two clips. Bill and I fill four belts.
When I’m finished, I whistle through my teeth. “That’s a lot of ammo.”
“And we’re not done yet,” Bill says. He goes to the wall and picks out grenades. We put them on the table, dividing them up for each person.
I grab some magazines for Cole’s handgun and fill them up, just in case he has space to store them in his pants. I pack myself some too. It looks like there are only two pairs of night-vision goggles, so I pull them off the shelf. I’m sure Bruno and Cole will want them for inside.
“How in the world will you be able to run, carrying all this?” I ask.
“Not too worried about the running part.” His admission takes me by surprise, and I step back, surveying the weapons. “The surviving part, now that’s a tad worrisome,” Bill says. I snort.
The door swings open, and Grace enters in a rush. Her forehead glistens with sweat, and her eyes turn to saucers as she lays her gaze on the weaponry we’ve stacked and loaded. She stops and holds out her arms.
“What you got there?” Bill asks.
“I know I said I’d pack food, and I was, but then I found these and thought they’d be helpful … just in case.” She puts three kits on the floor and then kneels and opens one up for us to see inside. “See? They’re blow-out kits … in case someone’s injured.”
“Wonderful,” Bill says.