The Bones of Valhalla (Purge of Babylon, Book 9) (11 page)

“I had to give it a shot,” Keo said.

“Nice try,” Bellamy said.

“So what was the plan?”

“Take you outside, shoot you, then say you were trying to escape. But this actually works better. You killed Calvin, and I had no choice.”

“In my defense, he was a big motherfucker and I had to put him down with the first try or I wasn’t going to get a second one.”

“Understandable,” Bellamy said. He took a moment to wipe at the blood on his cheeks and chin—not his or Keo’s, but Calvin’s that had whipped free from Keo during their collision.

“Does Rhett know about this?” Keo asked.

“No. Any other questions?”

“Nah, that’ll do.” Keo reached up with his bound hands and brushed at a thick patch of blood over his right eye. “Can I at least stand up before you shoot me? I’d hate to die on my knees. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Sure. It’ll look weird if you were on your knees when I put a round through you anyway.”

“Much obliged.” Keo struggled up to his feet, but while he was doing so Bellamy took two, then three more steps back. Keo grinned. “I feel like we’ve lost some trust.”

“No shit,” Bellamy said. He picked what looked like a shard of bone sticking to his shirt and flicked it away. “Jesus Christ.”

“Talk about having a thick head, huh?”

Bellamy chortled. “What did you say to Mercer before you shot him?”

“What makes you think I said anything?”

“Jane said she heard you say something before you pulled the trigger.”

“I don’t know a Jane.”

“She was in the Comm Room. She got out before the shit went down.”

Keo shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes, and Keo couldn’t tell if that was confusion or anger. “You just murdered one of the most important men on the planet, and you
don’t remember
what you said to him before you did it?”

“‘One of the most important men on the planet?’” Keo smirked. “I think you’re overvaluing him just a tad. If I had my hands free right now, I’d pinch my fingers together to further make my point.”

“Fuck you,” Bellamy said, and his face reddened noticeably.

Now
that
Keo had no trouble reading. Bellamy was pissed.

“Go for the head,” Keo said.

“What?” Bellamy said. The Glock in his hand trembled slightly, but not enough for Keo to make up the seven or so feet that separated them at the moment. The handgun was also pointed squarely at his chest—center mass.

“Go for the head,” Keo said. “One shot, one kill. I don’t know if you’ve shot anyone before, but a body shot isn’t a guarantee. A headshot—now, that’s one and done. After all, as soon as you pull that trigger, everyone on the island will know and come running.”

“You think anyone on this island cares about what happens to you?” Bellamy asked.

“I like to think I made an impression.”

“Oh, you did; there’s no doubt about that.”

“Still, one shot, one kill.” Keo reached up and tapped his forehead. “As evidence, I point to Mercer’s brain splattered all over the Comm Room.”

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed even further—was that even possible?—and he lifted his hand slightly so the gun was now aimed at Keo’s head. “Better?”

Keo smiled. “Watch out for the kick,” he said, just before he launched himself forward and left—
then right!
It was a feint, and he was hoping to confuse Bellamy just enough to throw off his aim—

The
bang!
came faster than Keo expected, but he had been expecting it nonetheless. He twisted his body as fast as he could, but of course it wasn’t fast enough. It was never going to be fast enough. He was only human, after all. Frank, or one of his blue-eyed pals, could have dodged the 9mm round easily.

But Keo wasn’t a ghoul and even the fastest man alive couldn’t dodge a bullet at seven (six, now?) feet, a cold, hard fact that was drilled home when the round hit him in the temple and actually spun him like a top. He slammed into the wall about the same time a streak of red splashed across the dull gray concrete.

Footsteps squeaked as Bellamy moved closer for the finishing shot, but Keo was too tired
(And bleeding. Shit, I’m bleeding.)
to turn around and confront his would-be killer. Not that it mattered. It could have been Mercer’s ghost come back from the grave (or wherever it was that the island had buried him) to get its revenge, for all the crap Keo gave at the moment.

A bullet was a bullet, was a bullet.

And dead was dead, was dead.

…except when dead wasn’t really dead.

Right, Frank? I could definitely use your help right now, ol’ pal.

“You really thought that was going to work?” Bellamy asked from behind him. There was almost a singsong quality to his voice, as if it were all fun and games now.

“Yeah, sort of,” Keo said into the wall.

“You really are too stupid to live.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

He wished he had the strength to turn around and flash one of those faux grins that was full of bravado, if just to piss Bellamy off one last time. But he didn’t, so instead he stared down at the floor, at his feet, as he propped his body up against the wall with the top of his head. Blood
drip-drip-dripped
down from his right temple and made small, messy individual puddles on the floor. Sooner or later, they would merge and become one big, messy pool.

Oh, the joys of coming together
,
he thought, and almost laughed. But of course, nothing came out when he opened his mouth except labored breathing and what sounded dangerously like a pathetic wheeze.

On the bright side, at least he wasn’t going to have to worry about the concussion he had no doubt suffered from ramming his forehead into Calvin’s face. So there was that, if not a whole lot else.

See? There’s always a bright side to everything.

He definitely heard himself chuckling that time, and it ended up being a spurt of uncontrollable giggling. That was probably the only reason Bellamy hadn’t shot him in the back of the head yet.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Bellamy asked.

“Nothing, nothing,” Keo said. “Sorry, sorry, private joke. You had to be there.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucked up,” Bellamy said.

Fucked up? No.

Fucked? Most definitely.

Captain fucking Optimism, most indeedy!

That started another round of uncontrollable laughter, and he didn’t stop even after Bellamy pressed the cold barrel of the Glock against the back of his head and pushed, because apparently this time he was determined to get the one shot, one kill down.

With nothing left to do, Keo focused on the red liquid that was
drip-drip-dripping
down the side of his face and to the floor below. He was staring so hard that his eyes started to lose focus. It surprised him that his blood would be so intensely red, and thick, like ketchup if he really concentrated hard and long enough.

He managed to close his eyes and thought of the
Trident
.

More specifically of Lara, and Carrie, and Bonnie. Shit, he should have taken them up on their offer. Bonnie, especially. How many times did you get the chance to sleep with a model at the end of the world?

Live and learn, pal. Live and…

Or not.

His legs became too wobbly to hold him up, and he fell down.

At the same time, Bellamy decided to finally pull the trigger
(Geez, man, what was the holdup? Let’s get this show on the road!)
and there was a loud
bang!
that left Keo’s ears ringing.

Wait. Why were his ears still ringing?

Idiot can’t even shoot someone from point-blank range correctly
,
Keo thought before he started laughing again.

Or thought he did. All he could really be certain of was that there was a lot of blood on the floor and he was lying in it, and he was almost one-hundred percent sure most of it had come from him.

Probably…

W
ith Riley’s
people still confined to the lower deck, there were plenty of spare rooms to choose from. She wished there could have been more time to enjoy that luxury but there wasn’t, not if she wanted to leave the yacht unnoticed. It was cowardly, she knew, and he was going to be angry when he woke up, but he would get over it. She hoped, anyway.

She spent some time at the door looking in at him asleep on the bed. There was a ghost of a smile on his face, his bare torso visible in the moonlight that spilled in from the open window on the other side of the room. She had never seen him so calm, so at peace with everything. It was a rare sight, and she enjoyed it just as much as he did.

I’ll see you soon, Nate. Please don’t be too mad at me.

She closed the door softly, and as she walked through the empty corridor, she couldn’t help but wonder how many times Will had thought that exact same thing while he was trying to get back to Song Island and Lara. She told herself it was different with her because she wasn’t going to fail. Whatever happened, she would come back to Nate and start a life with him. If everything went well out there, that life would be a good one. A very good one, indeed.

Plan G. That’s a hell of a name, Danny.

Hiding the preparations from Nate all day long was the hard part, but surprisingly the lying came easier. Maybe it was because she was doing this for his own good, that if he knew what she had planned he would have demanded to come with her and wouldn’t take no for an answer. But after the last time, she couldn’t allow that. He wasn’t ready. She could see it in his movements, in his eyes. He was putting up a front, but that gunshot had taken more out of him than he wanted to admit, even now, days later. Zoe had confirmed as much.

She took the short trip to the girls’ cabin on the main deck to look in on Claire, but the girl was already asleep on the large king-size bed with Elise, Vera, and Milly. Lorelei was there with them, the teenager sleeping curled up on a recliner in a corner after taking over Annie’s duties. Despite the extra empty rooms, the girls hadn’t branched out. Gaby guessed that had more to do with familiarity than anything.

Gaby wished she could have said she was surprised by what Annie had done, but she wasn’t. Loss made people do strange things, like how she had thrown herself into Ranger training on Song Island after Josh “died,” and how Lara had spent every waking day (and no doubt some of those nights, too) trying to keep them alive. Annie, meanwhile, had decided to lash out at the closest target—Will.

She stepped back into the hallway. It was better this way, anyway. If she started saying good-bye to everyone on the boat it would just make everything more difficult than it had to be. Besides, it wasn’t as if she were leaving forever. She would return; she just didn’t know when exactly.

On her way down to the lower decks, she fished out the bottle of pills Zoe had given her and swallowed two of the white ones. Once upon a time she would have needed water to wash them down, but those days were long gone. Her left shoulder still throbbed from time to time, but that would lessen to a dull numbness when the meds took effect. She put a hand over it now, feeling the thick bandage under the thermal clothing. She could barely move the arm this morning, but it had improved immensely since.

“One-armed Gaby,” a voice said from the shadows as she stepped out onto the exterior deck.

She glanced over at Danny, leaning against the railing nearby. He was still wearing his full tactical gear with the throat mic, and he pushed off and walked over to her.

“You should get that stenciled across your uniform,” Danny said. “One-Armed Gaby. The Most Dangerous Girl Who Ever Fought With Just One Arm.”

She smiled. “That’s kind of long, don’t you think? Besides, I’m not wearing a uniform. And neither are you.”

“Hey, everyone’s wearing uniforms these days, so why not us, too? I already told Carly to start making them. It’ll give her something to do other than nag me. I was thinking blue with hot rod stripes. What do you think?”

“Sounds tacky.”

“If by
tacky
you mean
glorious
, then yeah, it’s gonna be all kinds of tacky, all right.”

They walked side by side the rest of the way. There wasn’t anyone else along the railing, and she had never known the
Trident
to be so quiet before. She swore she could even hear her own heartbeat. It was surprisingly calm, considering what she was about to do and where she was going.

“You ready?” Danny asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“What about the arm?”

“It’s good.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s good, Danny. Besides, I’m a rightie.”

He didn’t look convinced, but nodded anyway. “I should be going, not you.”

“We already talked about this.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Besides, I’m only there to pull security. Bonnie and Blaine will be doing all the heavy lifting. Then it’ll be up to Will.”

“I’m not worried about that last part. It’s the everything-in-between part.”

“Have faith. Will knows what he’s doing.”

He smirked. “I have so much faith in that boy—dead or alive or, er, dead-alive-ish—that I even took three seconds to come up with a name for his plan.”

“Wow, a whole three seconds, huh?”

“It’s everyone else I don’t have a lot of faith in. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Mercer’s people?”

“Uh huh,” Danny nodded.

“I know what you mean. I still feel a little queasy about allying with them after everything they did. All those towns, those people…”

She went quiet for a moment as the memories of T29 came back in a rush. The smoke, the blood, the bodies…

“But we have to do what we have to do,” she said quietly. “Otherwise, we’re going to be fighting this war forever. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be doing this two or three decades from now.”

Danny chuckled.

“What?” she said.

“You, thinking we’ll have decades if this doesn’t work.”

“I guess some of Nate’s optimism is rubbing off on me.”

“How’d Nate-o-meter take it, by the way?”

“I didn’t tell him.”

“That good, huh?”

“He would have wanted to come. I couldn’t let him do that. Not in his condition.”

“As I recall, you were both shot.”

“I took one in the shoulder. Zoe said there wasn’t any lasting damage. I got lucky.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“Nate, on the other hand, nearly bled to death and required emergency field surgery. Big difference.”

“You and I and the moon up there know it, but he won’t see it that way come morning. I imagine there’ll be a lot of screaming and cursing and tears.”

“Tears?”

“Silent, manly tears.”

“He’ll want to follow us, so you can’t tell him anything. Promise me, Danny. No one can tell him.”

“He’d need to torture me with pliers and at least three hookers before I spill the beans. Okay, one hooker, but she has to be really good.”

They finally reached the door to the engine room, where Jolly was standing guard. He gave Gaby a
what’s up?
nod.

Gaby returned it. “Hey.”

“Good luck out there,” Jolly said.

“Thanks.”

“Enough chitchat; this isn’t
The Love Connection
,” Danny said, and opened the door and headed in.

Gaby followed him downstairs, then through the impossibly quiet engine room. “Your own personal mini-me, huh?”

“Jolly?” Danny said. “Good kid. Fast learner. He might make a good Ranger one of these days. Hell, if I sweat him enough, he may even be half as good as you.”

“I had two Rangers training me. He’s going to have to make do with one.”

“Maybe not for long.”

She nodded and couldn’t help but smile.

* * *

B
laine and Danny
had spent most of the day making the gear by hand, using the engine room to hide all the work from everyone else on the boat. They had brought down tools, supplies, and extra help as needed, and the results were now squirreled away inside two large duffel bags that looked like they might bust at the seams when Bonnie lifted them, grimacing, one in each hand.

“Heavy?” Gaby asked.

“Be glad you got the bum shoulder,” Bonnie said. “But I’ll manage.”

The ex-model tossed one bag, then the other one, into the fifteen-foot offshore vessel tied to the back of the
Trident
. One of the bags landed with a loud
thwump
, the other one giving off a distinctive
clank!
as its contents hit the fiberglass hull.

“Good thing I’ve been bulking up,” Bonnie said as she stepped off the swimming platform and into the swaying smaller boat. “Used to be I tried everything possible to keep my weight down.”

“Muscle weight’s different from fat weight,” Blaine said from behind the helm.

“My aching muscles agree with you.”

“Quit yer whining,” Danny said, walking across the landing behind them.

Gaby glanced over as Danny handed her something wrapped in a plain brown cloth. It was easily over a foot long and heavier than it looked when she held it.

“Going-away gift,” Danny said.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You can take a peek later.”

“It’s not a dildo, is it?”

He grinned. “I’m not saying it is, but I’m also not saying it isn’t.”

She smiled back and shoved the bundle into her pack. “Thanks, Danny.”

“Keep in touch,” Danny said, not just to her, but to Bonnie and Blaine in the boat as well. “That radio’s not there for show, you know. Use it. Twice a day. Once in the morning, once before nightfall. And remember, if something goes wrong out there, you’re on your own. Well, mostly. Bottom line: Try not to let anything go wrong out there.”

“I can’t believe I volunteered for this,” Bonnie said, mostly to herself.

“That’s right, you did. Sucker.”

“Keep an eye on the boat until we get back,” Blaine said. “I trust Maddie, but you know women and driving.”

“Hey,” Bonnie said.

“The man speaks the truth,” Danny said. Then, to Blaine, “You want I should keep Sarah company, too?”

Blaine sighed. “She’d prefer you over me these days.”

“Still trouble in paradise, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“If you can, keep the other eye on my sister for me,” Bonnie said to Danny. “She wasn’t all that happy when I told her.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll cuddle all the women on the boat for you guys,” Danny said. “Now get the hell gone. All this sentimental crap’s getting me all
Bridget Jones’s Diary
.”

Gaby kissed Danny on the cheek and embraced him, and he returned it with surprising enthusiasm.

“I wish I was going with you, kid,” he whispered to her.

“I know,” she whispered back.

“But if it’s not me out there watching his back, you’d be a solid second choice.” He pulled away and took a step back, both hands stuffed oddly in his pockets, like a kid who didn’t know what to do with them. “Eyes wide, ears open, and guns hot. Shoot first, never mind the questions. Don’t take any chances. Understand?”

Gaby nodded. “Take care of everyone.”

“That’s what I do.”

She untied the line, keeping the fifteen-footer attached to the
Trident
before climbing onto the smaller fishing vessel. She gave Danny one last look before nodding at Blaine. The boat hummed to life, the motor catching without a problem.

Soon, they were reversing, then turning.

Danny stood at the back of the platform and watched them go, and she had never seen him look sadder or more helpless.

She waved, and he waved back.

Then Gaby hurried to the stern and sat down on one of the seats along the starboard side. She looked down at the lump resting on the floor near her legs. It was a standard size suitcase with spinner wheels that made it easy to move. The polycarbonate material gave it a nice black sheen, and though it was mostly brand new when they “borrowed” it from one of Riley’s people, they had mummified it with duct tape just to make sure there weren’t any holes.

“How’re you doing?” Bonnie asked as she carefully maneuvered to the back, using the railing to steady herself as the craft gunned it through the darkness.

“Good,” Gaby said. “You?”

“Scared shitless.”

“I’ve been with him when he had to come up with a plan while bullets were flying over our heads. This is what he does, Bonnie. Have faith.”

Bonnie pursed a nervous smile. “I have faith that you guys have faith in him, or I wouldn’t be here.”

“He might have changed, but he’s still in there. Maybe not all of him, but some of Will is a hell of a lot better than all of a lot of other people.”

Bonnie nodded and put one hand on the railing. Gaby did likewise, because no matter how many times she had been on one of these smaller boats, she could never quite shake the feeling that the next wave they hit was going to send her into the water.

She took the opportunity to glance back at the yacht, slowly fading into the endless night behind them. The only reason she could still see it at all was because of its lights, but even those were starting to blink out of existence one by one.