From The Ashes (Life After War) (11 page)

Seth took his jacket off and carefully placed it around her shoulders. She didn't react–no violent jump this time–and he casually nudged the gun out of her reach with his boot.

“
I do, don't I?”

“
No,” Seth answered, hoping Kevin would think to call in to base. “But he deserved what he got.”

Becky felt the misery waiting for her, the hell Rick had sentenced her to, and shuddered. She would never be the same.

Seth, who had often thought the girl would grow up to be another Tonya, felt something shift in his mind. No one deserved what she'd been through. “This was Rick's doing, Becky, not yours.”

“
Don't call me that!” Becky ordered, face reddening under the bruises. “She's dead now!”

Seth's heart lurched. “I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner.”

Becky looked up at him, blood slowly running down her jaw. “I didn't think anyone would help me. I expect... expected to die here.”

Seth imagined a camp without her, and was surprised to find that the thought bothered him.

“
In one minute, I'm going to wrap a clean sheet around you, and then pick you up. Just close your eyes and let me get you to John.”

Seth was expecting the same reaction Samantha had gotten. He didn't understand that Becky couldn't stand the sound of the storm tracker's voice.

Becky trembled. “I have to stop on the way–to puke...”

Seth blinked. Where was the emotional flood? The tears? “Okay. Here we go.”

He actually saw her body tense, like she was terrified that he might do what Rick had. “I won't hurt you, Rebecca. Neither will the other Eagles.”

“
I know that.” But, she didn't, really. They were men, and men couldn't be trusted.

Becky went rigid as Seth slid his arms under her, breath coming in short gasps. Unable to do anything more than exactly what he’d asked, she closed her eyes and didn't fight him.

Seth lifted her tiny body as gently as he could, sensed her clamp down on a scream. His gentle heart lurched. “Easy, baby. Just hang on.”

Seth took her outside with careful steps that still caused her pain. The sentries starting to show up from Kevin's call saw enough to understand. They turned away in respect… and cold fury.

Kevin was waiting with gas cans.

Seth nodded, moving for his car and not the one Sam was already inside. “Do it, and find out exactly where John is. Tell him to pull over and wait.”

Inside the now burning house, Rick’s charring skeleton glowered bitterly. Denied peace, over time, his
ghost
might collect the energy of those who passed. If it grew strong enough to become solid, it would commit murder and regain a cursed life. That had been the way of things before the War, and it continued now. Restless ghosts remained so because they knew death wasn’t final.

Chapter Four

1

Angela’s lids shot open. “It's done.”

Marc hurried back to the bed he had just stepped away from. “You okay?”

“
It’s over now.”

“
Yes. The Slavers are no longer a threat to anyone.”

“
Are
you
all right?”

Marc forced his gaze away from the ugly wound. “Yes.”

He resumed his seat next to her bed and sent a charming smile. “What about you? Feeling better?”

Angela grunted. “Yeah, let’s say that.”

Marc chuckled at the joke because it was expected, thinking he would be extremely glad when Safe Haven arrived. Hopefully, he only had another hour to get through.

“
Brady.”

Marc looked over to see the fingers on her injured hand moving. It was a great sign, and he quickly leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Happy for you, Honey.”

Angela opened her palm, smiling, and Marc was clear on what she wanted. He gave her the Python he'd carefully tended in her stead.

Angela slowly transferred the gun to the blood-crusted holster on her right hip. Knowing it was there might help keep the nightmares at bay. She drifted off while hoping that Becky was able to find something to use in the same manner.

Marc saw that she had fallen back asleep and eased out of the chair to go take a turn on sentry duty. Zack’s second in command came in quickly when called, reporting that everything was all quiet. The XO expected to be asleep on his bedroll at Angela’s side in about two minutes.

The warehouse they were sheltering in had once held engine parts–Kansas was dotted with buildings like these that they were stripping–but now it served as only another relic of the old world. No one was flying planes or anything else these days–not even flags. But for the one Adrian had up at the Mess, it would have been something Marc hadn’t seen since the War.

Brady stared hard at the surroundings, the cicada-lined trees and waist-high fog rolling through the thick trunks.
Almost surreal
, he thought, taking up a high post. He used his night vision glasses to search for heat signatures that would indicate something alive. He saw only dark, still forms and tried to keep his nerves under control.

A sense of being unprotected coated the area. In the hours since parting from Adrian, the unease had only increased, and Marc again found himself longing for the camp’s noisy arrival. It had become his home without him realizing it.

He heard the soft murmur of voices and knew Allan and Angie were talking. She was a lot stronger now… thanks to whatever Adrian had done. Marc had also figured out that staying away was the best thing the Witch could do to help. Angela had been too weak for the Demon to come forward, and even now, that fiery spirit only came in curt, unsympathetic visits. The sharing of energy between her and Angela was something he hadn’t known about, and Marc wondered suddenly if Adrian had.

Faced with too much time to think, Marc let his mind ponder Adrian a bit deeper than usual. It was hard not to after everything that had happened. The blond man was in charge of an ever-growing camp of armed survivors who would banish him when they found out who he'd been. Rather than finding a way to get them to accept it, Adrian was busy fixing the flaws of the old world.

Without the blinders, Marc could see the benefits of having female Eagles. He flashed to his first nights in camp, when he’d learned about the double standard for some parts of their population. Ray was where Angie had been, starting over, but without his blinders anymore, either. Even the reporter would be a convert now. Why would so clever a leader not find a way for his people to accept the truth?

No answer came, and Marc wondered which way he would fall when it all came out. Would he and Angie be side-by-side in defense, or would they end up on opposite teams? It was hard to guess at. He was sure the truth would emerge eventually, but he no longer had the urge to help it happen.

Clearly, neither did Cynthia, who had insisted on being a part of Adrian’s guard when he left. But she’d spent a hard minute picking. Adrian only taking three men–Seth, Jeff, and John–had made the choice for her. The rest of the Eagles not with Kyle were perched in various places around the warehouse, tired enough to kill for the slightest reason. It had been a very long trip–one never to be forgotten, no matter how hard they might try.

Marc hadn’t realized that Angie had the support of the camp’s women, but it was clear from hearing about Anne and watching Cynthia, that she had been subtly manipulating her own choices
into place all along. Angela was so much like Adrian that it was horrifying. How bad would it get over time? Would she end up scarred and missing limbs, using her gifts openly for the camp upon their asking? A real-life Merlin for Safe Haven's king. Was that the master plan?

Marc refused to let himself answer, staring at shadowy main road the camp would come down. Why did life always seem to get harder?

2

John studied his wife from the passenger seat of the ambulance. Here when she got in, the accusing expression had been enough to stop even a word of welcome. Not sure yet what he needed to say, John had kept quiet, allowing them to hear the faint gunshots under the storm.

Anne followed the blurry lights of the rig in front of them, aware of her husband’s disapproval. She knew why, even though he hadn’t said anything. She finally let out a harsh sigh.

“
You don’t make the patients wait this long. Why me, Mr. Harmon?”

John blinked, not used to hearing so sharp a tone from her. “You lied to me,
Mrs. Harmon
.”

“
By omission, yes.” Anne didn’t remind him that he’d done the same thing to her in the beginning of this new life. She didn’t need to. “I’m sorry for it.”

“
But you’d do it again!” he accused, ignoring the rocking ambulance. The wind hadn’t let up much–neither had his anger.

Anne gave him what he needed to be able to accept it–the truth. “Yes, and so would you. I had to find out on my own. You broke our trust first.”

Hearing her say it smashed through his furious indignation. John’s shoulders slumped.

Anne hated his misery. “I hope to prove my loyalty, and to earn back your love.”

John immediately denied that. “I always have love for you!”

The wife finished leading him into giving her what she had to have. “I can wait until you’re too sick, if that will make it easier on you…”

John’s anger broke under a flood of terror. “No, please don’t… I want those last moments with you!”

Anne gasped at the unforgiving anguish ripping through her chest. Her husband would die soon, and there was little she could do to stop it.

They reached out a hand at the same time for comfort, grips tight. Neither could imagine being without the other.

The truck in front of them slowed and came to a stop, making Anne do the same.

John motioned to the glove box, daring her to protest. “Get it.”

Anne reluctantly retrieved the gun he kept there, nervous. She'd only had a couple of quiet lessons.

Lee came to the window, and John rolled it down quickly. “What is it?”

Lee’s face was grim. “We have two injured camp members catching up. They need care. I'll drive.”

John and Anne switched to the rear of the ambulance to wait, assuming it was the mission team who'd had trouble.

After a long minute of exchanging hurt, needful glances, John slowly tugged his wife closer. “Together for the rest of it?”

Anne nodded, holding onto him, to his comforting life force. “You know it.”

John winced, but didn't let go.

They stayed that way until Samantha opened the door, looking like she'd been beaten. Behind her, Seth was carrying Becky, who clearly had been.

John moved aside to let them in, pushing back the pain and worry to do his duty. There would be time for mourning later.

3

“
This is an off-limits area! State your business!”

The sight of Marc on the dock of the warehouse, alert guards in the shadows around him, allowed Adrian to breathe. He keyed the mic. “I own the place.”

“
Welcome home... Boss.”

Adrian's eyelids began to sting. Even if it was only a show for the men, Marc's voice was more genuine than Adrian felt he had any right to.

The leader grunted in weary annoyance with his emotions. He needed sleep. “Kenn has Point. Get us set up for a week.”

The camp members, who'd also been without Adrian for much longer than any of them were comfortable with, rushed from their vehicles to discover what had happened.

“
Let them through,” Adrian ordered. He was quickly surrounded.

While the Eagles got the camp set up, Adrian allowed his people to see and
hear
the battle. Cynthia had surrendered the tape recorder in her pocket as they pulled in to lead the convoy. She was his now, in more ways than one.

Adrian motioned to the reporter, telling her silently that she was on her own time.

Cynthia nodded, but didn't leave, and Adrian had to decide if she knew the codes or only was acting like she'd understood.

“
Okay to stay?”
Cynthia sent. She didn't want to leave his guard until Kenn had camp set up. Less distractions kept eyes watching what they were supposed to. If she and Rick were able to sneak through the shadows and get to the chain of command, then so could others.