Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Dean sighs and says, “Baby…”
Cody sneers and raises his hand.
But the one with the gun on us, Nash, says, “Porter wanted her unmarked and in one piece.”
“Fuck’s sake. Where’s the kid?” Cody asks Nash.
“Told him to wait back in the bushes.”
“Thought the whole fucking reason you wanted him along was so he could learn how we worked.”
“He doesn’t need to see this,” says Nash—smoothly moving his aim to Cody.
It all happens so quickly. None of the four men he came with even manage to raise their weapons in time. Nash takes out three of his companions with a single shot to each. The fourth is dropped by Dean with his hidden handgun. Blood blossoms between their eyes and all of the men fall limply to the asphalt.
Whoa.
Birds startled by the sound of the guns take flight from nearby trees. The sounds of shouting and doors slamming come from the small town waking up in a hurry behind us.
But calm as can be, Nash sets down his weapon, along with a variety of other guns and knives. Like, a whole lot of them. He’s done what he set out to do, apparently.
Dean wastes no time scooping up his other pistol and putting me behind him. “What the fuck is happening here?”
Hands held up high, Nash stands still. “I’m going to call to the boy. Then you’ll understand. But don’t hurt him—he’s not armed, he’s just a child.”
Dean nods. “Do it.”
“Bowie,” calls Nash. “Come on out now. Take it nice and slow.”
And from out of some bushes back down the road appears said child. He’s ten or so. Around the same age as Hazel. His skin is white and his hair dark, and his eyes are as wide as can be.
“Bowie?” I ask with a smile. “That’s your name?”
He nods like his head has come loose. His gaze goes to the bodies on the ground, and his face turns even whiter, if possible. “You killed Cody.”
“Cody was an asshole,” says Nash.
“Yeah,” says the boy in little more than a whisper. “But Porter’s going to be pissed.”
“We’re not going back to Porter, buddy.”
“We’re not?” he asks, and he sounds hopeful.
Charlie reaches us first, wearing pajama pants, in bare feet, carrying a pistol. His hair is sticking out in every direction. Just truly impressive bed hair. But the last thing we need is someone getting spooked and starting shooting. There’s been enough death already this morning.
“It’s okay,” I say. “We’re okay.”
Dean’s dark brows are drawn tight together. He is seriously unhappy. And he’s still pointing his gun at Nash when he says, “Talk fast.”
“Can we expect more visitors?” asks Leon.
We’re gathered in the dining room of the bed-and-breakfast. It made sense to be inside, out of view. The three children are having breakfast with Charlie and Avan in the kitchen. But the rest of us are gathered to hear what this stranger has to say. He’s seated in the corner with all eyes on him. Dean checked to make sure he wasn’t hiding any other weapons. However, tensions are still sky high.
“No,” says Nash. “I followed you from the home store yesterday. It wasn’t easy. Lost you a time or two, but by then I had the general direction figured out. Cody didn’t even tell Porter exactly where you were. The drugs he was taking made him paranoid as fuck. And he wanted all of the glory for bringing women back to the camp.”
“You were with those people,” says Reema. “Why should we trust anything you say?”
Nash’s mouth is set in a serious line. “Let me explain. I saw them last week when I was grabbing a few things in Sonoma. This pack of assholes emptying a grocery store. It would have been easy enough to avoid them. But then I saw Bowie and got a bad feeling. One of them started pushing him around and slapping him and…there were too many of them for me to safely get him out of there. But I couldn’t just leave him with them.”
“That speaks well of you,” says Natalia.
“Thank you, ma’am,” says Nash, subdued for some reason. Guess he doesn’t take praise well. “I followed them back to their camp. There were about thirty of them, and—”
“Thirty?” I ask in surprise.
“Yeah. Porter got active on the radio and putting up signs early on, asking people to join him. Most were just happy to find other survivors and some sort of organization after all the chaos. But from what I heard, about half made a run for it when they realized what he was really like. How things were going to be. Anyone with a woman to protect got them the hell out of there. He’d tightened up security with people loyal to him by the time I joined. Slipping out or moving around at night was more difficult.”