Justice (13 page)

I tried to secure the door behind me, but it was a lost cause. It was splintered in places and it hung from its hinges, loose and useless.
 

“Everyone upstairs. Nick, get them settled and quiet. Pete, I need you down here to help me lock down the house.” The two boys nodded and got moving.
 

I went into the kitchen and clicked on my flashlight again. I tried to keep it low so it wouldn’t throw off any light and draw unwanted attention. Most people kept a tool box or at least a hammer in a junk drawer in the kitchen, so I began to search drawers.
 

The drawers turned up nothing but old receipts and used birthday candles. I went to the side door, hoping for a laundry room, but got a pantry instead. I shined the light near the bottom and something scurried across the shelves.
 

I jumped back, knocking something over in the process. From the smell, it was vinegar. I shined my light across the floor again, revealing a good sized rat and breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing dangerous.
 

“Hands-up, fuckface,” a hard voice said behind me.
 

I hadn’t heard a thing, not a door open or the creak of the floor. And now my lack of awareness was going to get me killed.
 

TWENTY-TWO | Morons and Migraines

It wasn’t hard to find the fool that had taken the kids. He ran out the back door and went to the biggest house. I don’t know what his plans had been. I couldn’t even begin to imagine because I don’t think like a criminal pedophile, but it was going to be an easy takedown.
 

Murphey and I stood in front of the house we had seen the kids enter. We stayed hidden behind the thick foliage that was once a garden. I signaled for her to enter through the front and she nodded. I went around the side, staying low and quiet. The house was nothing but windows, I could see into it easily. When I got to the back, I noticed the muted glow of a light.
 

I went into stealth mode, taking a deep breath and centering myself, aware of everything around me. There was a backdoor that led to the kitchen and it was standing ajar, the lock broken and useless.
 

He didn’t look up when my boot squeaked on the tile floor. He was too busy digging through the pantry, making a racket in his haste to find what he was looking for. He only noticed me when I was right on top of him and started to order him around.
 

Not much of a criminal mastermind if you ask me.
 

“Are you fucking deaf, I said hands-up.” His hands shot into the air and he turned around to face me. He was younger than I expected. And not as scruffy as the rest of the group. His beard was thick, but neat, and he looked trim under the leather jacket he wore, very trim actually. He was also attractive with dark blond hair, close cropped to his head, and dark eyes that shone with fear.

His hand didn’t twitch for his piece which was shoved into his pants like an amateur. I holstered my own piece, keeping my torch trained on his eyes to blind him. I stepped forward and grabbed his gun from his waistband. My knuckles brushed against hard, fit muscles instead of the soft flesh I would have expected from a biker.
 

I checked the clip and pocketed the firearm. There was some kind of stench coming from this pantry, like bleach, or vinegar, or some other awful cleaning fluid. It was seeping into my brain and giving me a migraine. It was my only excuse for what came out of my mouth next.
 

“Got anything else down your pants?” I asked, thinking it would sound cocky, but it came out sounding flirtatious.
 

Well, this was a new one for me.
It took everything in me not to shoot him right there so I wouldn’t have a witness to my own stupidity.
 

TWENTY-THREE | Flirting with Disaster

I had expected some big Army guy when I turned around. What I saw when I pivoted to face the gruff orders was a small figure, not much bigger than Felicity. She had a soft, high-pitched, female voice that was in weird contrast with how she was dressed and her words. She might have been tiny, but she was dressed to kick ass. She was dressed for war. She was in all black fatigues with combat boots laced up tight and was even equipped with combat armor. Some of it looked homemade, but the majority looked high-tech.
 

Her face was covered in a mask and she was wearing goggles over her eyes. The only piece of skin I saw was the tips of her fingers wrapped around a handgun, and a rather lush set of lips.
 

Those fingers were tight around a handgun pointed confidently at me. She motioned with her gun in an upward motion. I raised my hands higher.
 

“I have a .22 and a knife in my boot,” I said, answering her question.

“What the fuck is that smell?” She stepped back.
 

“I knocked over the vinegar,” I said, trying not to let her hear the fear in my voice. I didn’t know this girl’s intentions. Was she here to kill me and the children? Was that the goal? Why else would she have come out here to find us? We weren’t threatening anyone.
 

“Get out of the pantry and close the door. I can’t take that smell.”
 

She had me there. I could almost taste the vinegar, it was that pungent, but it wasn’t high up on my list of issues at the moment. I stepped out of the pantry and closed the door behind me, keeping my hands in plain sight like you see on the cop shows. Didn’t want any sudden moves with my trigger happy friend here.
 

“Why did you take the kids?” she asked.
 

“There were gunshots, it wasn’t safe,” I replied.
 

“You weren’t planning on keeping them as hostages?”

“Why would I do that?”
 

“Because we took over your base, killed half of your men and took your leader hostage. Leverage, you know, what the bad guys normally do.” She shrugged, which I barely noticed through her armor.
 

“You’re the one with a gun pointed at me,” I said gruffly. “Who’s the bad guy?”

“And you’re the one with the biker patches all over you. You know, the same biker gang that was keeping women locked up as sex slaves and manufacturing meth and fun things like that. Bad guy shit. C’mon turn around, I need to restrain you. Slowly get the rest of your weapons out and throw them to the other side of the room.”

“It’s a motorcycle club,” I said on autopilot, but I pulled out my gun and knife, throwing them across the room like she told me.
 

“Yeah, and I’m a fucking Girl Scout,” she laughed and yanked me forward by my wrists, wrapping a zip tie around them roughly and then patting me down, obviously not taking my word for it.

“Murphey, you found the kids?” She did something with her ear.
 

“They’re all upstairs,” I shared. She held up a hand as if to shush me.
 

“Come in Poche, kids are secure, we’re not far from the main area, advise,” the blonde said, touching her ear and then motioning with her gun for me to sit down at the table.
 

The way she held herself and her casual way of giving orders let me know she was used to giving orders and having them followed. Her bearing was rigid and she handled her weapon with ease. This wasn’t someone who picked up a gun after the infection and became an apocalypse guru. She was obviously military. And from the gear she was holding, it was even more evident. Could this really be the Army?
 

If that was the case, I was fucked.
 

TWENTY-FOUR | Beauty Pageant Military

“Stay where you are. When we get this base locked down and the prisoners secure, we’ll bring you in. I don’t want to risk transporting them in the dark,” Poche gave the order.
 

“Roger,” I said in response.
 

“What’s your name?” I asked the biker.

“Rebel,” he said. They all had those dumb street names, but they weren’t a gang.
Sure
.
 

“Okay,
Rebel
. We’re going to bunker down for a bit, and you’re not going to give me any trouble, are you? You look like a smart guy. As a smart guy, you should pick up on the fact that I really want a reason to put a few rounds into you. Act up and I get that chance. So, ya gonna behave?” He glared at me, but nodded obediently.
 

“Good boy,” I smiled. My mask was itching and there was no need for the protection so I pulled it off and threw it on the table. I pulled a lantern from my pack, set it on the counter and turned it on. The was a clatter in the hallway and I spun around with my gun raised.
 

“You got someone else with you, Rebel?” I called over my shoulder.
 

“No, just the kids, it might be one of the kids.” His voice was high and worried. He was truly scared that it was one of the kids. It made me second-guess my assumptions about him.

I holstered my gun, but kept it unclipped, at the ready. I palmed my knife, just in case it wasn’t a living person. I crept through the kitchen and went to the large archway that led to the front of the house.
 

I noticed the slight shiver of a shadow in a recessed area and I moved through the doorway quickly, avoiding something that was swung near my face by only inches. I executed a quick turn and blocked the next attack. I grabbed the tire iron that was again aimed at my head. I disarmed the attacker with one quick move and got him locked in an arm bar, bringing him down to his knees. When he cried out in pain, I let up slightly. It wasn’t a man’s voice.
 

“You’re kind of young for a biker, boy,” I said through clenched teeth. He was obviously one of the kids, probably no older than fourteen.
 

“I ain’t a biker,” he cried out.
 

“Don’t hurt him!” Rebel was in the doorway, his hands still tied in front of him.
 

I released the kid’s arm and let him stand up straight. He rubbed at his arm and looked from me to Rebel.
 

“We’re here to rescue you,” I said and handed him back his tire iron.
 

“You with the military? You don’t look like you’re with the military,” the kid said.
 

“Yeah, I’m with the military. The Guard wants their base back,” I said. I looked up as Murphey came down the stairs and rounded the corner to take in the scene. She had also removed her mask.

“One of the older teens, Felicity I think, is getting the children to lay down while we wait this one out. There's an older boy, Pete, who wants to stand guard. They’re a well-behaved bunch, but look a little shaken,” Murphey reported as she took her M4 off and laid it on the dining room table within reach. The rifle was bulky, so I understood why she wanted it off, but I didn’t trust this guy, no matter how docile he was acting.