Break Free The Night (Book 2): Loss of Light (20 page)

              "He's not coming, he's waiting for me," Andrew spoke.

              "Ten more minutes," Quinton suggested, leaning on the side of the building, his eyes still trained forward.

             
Kaylee shifted impatiently. Her hands were just the slightest shade of pink, leftover blood that still stained her skin from after she had wiped the rest on her jeans. Her chest was smeared red from when Danny had slammed her to the concrete next to Cynthia's lifeless body, she was sure her face was as well. The bruises and bumps were starting to throb, now that she was standing still and the adrenaline was fading. Her neck itched and when Kaylee brought her hand to her skin, she found and remembered the bloody trails that Cynthia's nails had left on her cheek and neck. They itched and burned now, the blood already dried in long streaks.

              The smell was disorienting, the metallic, rusty odor of blood. It felt like she couldn't get out of the shed, couldn't get away from what she had done, like it would follow her, taunting her forever. Bile beat up her throat again but she swallowed it down. A surge of anger swept through her. She was so sick and tired of feeling ill. So sick of this world and the death and rotting and blood all around her.

              It wasn't until Emma reached out and stroked her forearm that she realized her hands were clenched into fists. She looked up from where she was staring, the patch of grass she had gotten sick in, and locked eyes with Emma.

              She was worried. It was easy to read in the tightening around her eyes, they way she seemed to be searching Kaylee for something.

              For what? Proof that I'm still here, that her sister wasn't lost in the shed at the same moment that Cynthia was?

              "I think he's waiting for us to come to him," Quinton's voice broke through Kaylee's thoughts. She looked away from Emma and the pile of sick in the grass and turned to Quinton.

              "So, what's our move?" The confidence in her voice surprised her. But it was there, she sounded strong and ready, not at all scared. Though by every right she should be.

              "We only have two guns." Quinton nodded at the rifle in Andrew's hand, the one they had taken from an unconscious Danny. He checked his own clip and chambered a round. "Andrew and I will take point. You two stay right behind us. When we get to the others, unlock the door and wake them up."

              "Sternal rub if they're not responsive," Emma said, looking at Kaylee. She brought her fist to Kaylee's chest and rubbed her knuckles lightly over her breastbone. "Just like this over the sternum, but hard. That'll wake them." Kaylee nodded her understanding.

              "We'll be sitting ducks over that dam," Andrew said, nodding forward. The top of the dam stretched before them, as long as a football field, a thick expanse that would provide no coverage. Was Marsden waiting for them to try to make it across, would he shoot as soon as they tried?

              "It's harder than you think to hit a moving target. And the sun isn't up yet. We have time. Keep low, move quickly," Quinton said, gesturing them forward, his arm outstretched before him, gun low but pointing the way. They dart from shed to shed before stealing quickly across the concrete stretch of the dam, the steel gray sky of predawn yawning above them. Quinton moved in a low crouch, a practiced military styled advance.

              It was distracting, the water lapping at the concrete around her. The gentle rhythms, the light breeze, it belayed the urgency, the craziness of their situation. On one side, the water was only a couple feet below the lip of the dam, the other was a twenty foot drop at least. But she moved quickly
,
tried to keep low and move stealthily across the dam. She may not have been entirely successful, not as good as Quinton was, but they weren't shot at as they reached the grass either.

              Quinton crossed the lawn and opened the door, moving in first. The moment he slid from view, Kaylee knew something wasn't right.

              Music, static, sobbing, laughing, and gunfire. Bursts of sounds and light and faces and faraway places. It all flashed at them from every corner of the great room. Every television and stereo, even the game systems and the ancient arcades, were on, the volume low, not overwhelming but a constant buzz.

              "He's expecting us," Andrew murmured.

              "Ignore it," Quinton advised, "he's trying to distract us."

              "Or provide cover," Emma whispered.

              "So, keep your eyes open then."

              There were shadows, cast from the light of the flickering televisions and monitors. They caught Kaylee's eye more than once as she stole across the large room, headed towards the stairs. But it was only shadows, no Marsden, no Maggie or Paul or Rose.

              After the low buzz of the televisions and radios, the silence in the stairwell was eerie. Footsteps echoed and Kaylee could hear her breathing clearly in the closed space. It was dark, there were no windows in the stairwell. If not for Quinton doing a quick sweep while Emma held the door open for him, Kaylee would have been more worried that Marsden was hiding in these denser shadows, waiting for them. But by the time they reached the top and the door of the room they had all once been locked in, Kaylee was more worried about the silence then the shadows.

              "Get it opened," Quinton said, nodding to the door as he turned his back on it. He and Andrew positioned themselves facing towards the long hall and the stairwell. Both remained empty.

              Emma was the first through the door, Kaylee on her heels. Their group was sleeping. It looked so innocent. And small. Without the two girls, Andrew, and Quinton, it was only four bodies. Only four. Kaylee knew theirs wasn't a huge group, but it felt large, felt like they could do anything together, felt like survival. It wasn't so promising when you took any of the others out of the equation. It would be so easy for the group size to shrink. It almost had already. Emma should be dead by now, so should Kaylee. She wondered if any of those sleeping would have even suspected that they had been drugged, had it not been for Andrew sneaking out and back to them. They were tucked into their beds, curled up under the rough wool blankets. Emma was already at the end of the room shaking Anna, quietly hissing for her to wake. Kaylee saw the stirring and she went to the closest bed, the one right next to the door.

              "Jack," she whispered, shaking his shoulder. He was lightly snoring, peaceful. Kaylee thought for a moment she should try the sternal rub and she ripped his blankets down to expose his chest. But before she could put her knuckles to him, his eyes flew open.

              "Kay?" It was the wonder and hope in his voice that nearly buckled her. But it turned quickly to fear and horror. "What's going on, are you okay?"

              He jumped up from his bed, staring at her in horror. He was already reaching for his holster, growling when he saw it was empty. He was still fully clothed, dirty from the day they spent cleaning the lines. Whatever they drugged them with, it incapacitated them. They never even cleaned up before climbing into their beds.

              "I'm fine," was all she managed to choke out before turning to rouse her father.

              For a infinitesimal moment, she had forgotten she was covered in blood. Nick rose easier than Jack, he always was a light sleeper, and immediately reached for Kaylee.

              "What happened to you? Where were you?" he demanded.

              "I'm fine," she whispered again. She hugged him quickly, pulling back to tell him to grab his boots and jacket. Everyone moved very quickly, the group was assembled in moments. There was little need for explanation other than that they were drugged, Marsden almost killed Emma, everyone was fine, and they needed to leave. There were no arguments, once everyone got a look at Kaylee, they hurried right along without complaint. 

              "Guns out everyone," Quinton murmured, sticking his head in the room.

              "Can't," Jack said through clenched teeth. Quinton nodded once as if expecting it before gesturing for the group to follow them. They filed past Kaylee, Anna's eyes wide, searching her for the source of so much blood. Kaylee could see her eyes quickly tracing her injuries, seeking for some large cut or wound that would explain the amount that saturated her clothing. She offered a quick shake of her head.

             
Later
.

              Anna nodded and gave her arm a brief squeeze.

              The hallway was still the same eerie quiet, but it was better now that the rest of the group was with them. Even without guns, there was a lot of them. And really, Kaylee thought it was only Marsden that stood between them and safety.

              They stole as quietly as a large group could through the hall and down the stairs, Kaylee could hear the buzz of the televisions, computers, and radios. Her hands felt empty and the feeling scared her. It was too easy to remember the ease of holding the axe and she didn't want that feeling to be easy. But she felt vulnerable now and she found her eyes seeking out nearby objects that could be used as weapons. There was nothing in the stairwell, but as soon as she came through the door she spotted a screwdriver laying on an old Pac Man arcade game and picked it up. It wouldn't do much against a gun. But she felt better gripping something that could be used for defense.

              "Where is everyone?" Anna whispered, looking around confused. "Maggie, Rose, Marsden, Cynthia, they're all usually up by now. What the hell happened last night, this morning?"

              Quinton ignored the question, his focus forward and out of the powerhouse. Kaylee cringed as Anna listed everyone off. Cynthia wouldn't be joining them now or ever again. Her grip convulsed around the screwdriver.

              "They were drugged with dinner, you all were," Andrew answered simply, leaving Cynthia out of it entirely.

              "They weren't all drugged."

              Kaylee whipped her head around, looking for the source of the soft, rasping voice. The entire group tensed, initially drawing closer together. But Quinton shushed them, told them to spread out. They did, they spread in one long line, each an arm length away from the other. Jack was on Kaylee's left, closer to the center of the line than she was, his eyes flickered around the room but came back to her quickly.

              "You must be Marsden," Quinton called out, his gaze searching, as everyone's was, around the cavernous room. Kaylee's eyes flit from the flickering screens to the crane suspended from the ceiling and back to the walls.

              "Cynthia wasn't drugged." Marsden's voice was closer now, but from a different part of the room. He was moving, shifting towards them from behind the large televisions and video games. The shadows there were deep and dark, the surfaces of the screens lit both with images and an orange glow from the sun that was steadily rising and visible from the high windows.

              "Was she, Kaylee?" She saw movement, just a flickering of the shadows really, and caught his eye as his head ducked back behind the metal shelves full of DVDs.

              "Who cares if Cynthia was drugged!" Nick roared. "You told me my daughter ran away! You had her locked up! And now my other daughter is covered in blood! I want answers. Now!"

              Marsden laughed. It was high pitched and ringing. "You're not worried whose blood it is?"

              "He's stalling," Quinton murmured, his hands steady, wrapped around his gun. He had it pointed at the metal shelves. "Come out, Marsden! Let's talk face to face."

              "Barrel to barrel, you mean?" Marsden rasped. He rolled out from behind the shelf, his shotgun pointed at the group. It was only now that Kaylee saw the wisdom of Quinton's plan, spreading them out in a long thin line. Andrew was closest to the door, his gun aimed at Marsden, Quinton was more towards the center. Marsden couldn't shoot the both of them at once, and if he even got one shot off, hitting either Andrew or Quinton, the other could take him down. And if that failed, the rest could charge past him and get to the door. He couldn't get all of them at once. Not alone.

              "You're out gunned, Marsden," Bill spoke, his eye darting from his son to the man aiming at them. "Put it down."