Prep For Doom Read online

  His tirade over, Enrique hunched over a glass case. He massaged his temples with both hands. A new thought set her brain spinning—what if he’d been seen by one of the street gangs? What if he’d led them right to her? She tried to ignore the feeling, but Enrique just wasn’t the survival type.

  “Hey…” Arie started, her hand tentative on his back. “I’m sorry, En. I didn’t mean anything. Let’s get going, okay?”

  He sighed, but straightened and shouldered his duffle bag. He slipped out the door and she followed close behind.

  There was nobody in the streets. Not a single movement in the shadows between the buildings. Despite Enrique’s tall form next to her in the alley, her brain had begun to buzz with the word alone. Did she even know him well enough to trust him with everything that was about to happen? The old feeling of panic from losing her father was beginning to unravel her edges again, now that Bas was gone too. Her movements were clumsy with anxiety as she tossed her duffle bag in the back seat of the black SUV.

  She had just opened the passenger door when she remembered Bas’s necklace. His key.

  “Hang on, I forgot something!” She bolted before Enrique could ask. She couldn’t believe she’d almost forgotten Bas’s dying wish. It took less than two minutes—she yanked the military tags from his neck and hid them beneath her shirt, then rushed down the stairs, not even trying to be quiet. But when she swung open the door between the storeroom and the shop, she came face-to-face with a scruffy, grinning man. She stumbled backward, hitting the wall too soon.

  “Hey man, we got a cute little girl here all alone!” he called, glancing over his shoulder. Arie flinched. Ever since freshman year when a particular beautiful boy had shattered her, the word little had always been a trigger. And where the crap was Enrique? She shouldn’t have left him alone.

  The man advanced on her, and she noticed a hunting knife at his belt. A bell jingled as the shop door opened. A second man entered, holding a gun loosely. Scruffy looked back at his partner just long enough for Arie to yank her own gun up and flick off the safety.

  Scruffy saw it and laughed, a low and menacing sound. “It’s okay—come with us and I’ll show you how to use that. Feisty little thing.”

  It was the wrong choice of words. Black memories flooded Arie’s mind and she pulled the trigger on instinct. The recoil slammed the gun back into her face and she cursed her nerves, her cheekbone throbbing. The man staggered as red blossomed across his shirt, and he fell against a case.

  The second man shoved past his fallen partner, aiming his gun at her chest.

  “You little—”

  Arie panicked and fired again. Turns out her kill shot ratio was even better under stress. A strained giggle escaped her shaking lungs as hysteria started to take hold. She had just killed two men. Bas was dead on the floor upstairs. She still didn’t know where En was.

  The door jingled again, and Arie swung her gun wildly toward the sound. “Wait! Arie, stop!” Enrique yelled, his hands high in the air. A third stranger ducked out from behind En, a glint of metal in the man’s hand.

  “Out of the way, En!” she screamed, trying to aim around him.

  Enrique didn’t move. “It’s okay, Arie. They’re not…” His voice faltered as he took in the two bodies on the floor in front of her and the smear of blood down the glass case.

  “A little trigger-happy, aren’t ya?” the third man said, stepping into range. “That’s okay. I didn’t like those guys anyways. Now be a good girl, and we’ll let you and your boyfriend come with us.” He stroked his goatee and grinned at her.

  Arie’s eyes flicked back and forth between the man and Enrique, who was staring at her with saucer eyes. He nodded slightly, and she cursed. Her freaking gut. Why did it always have to be right?

  Arie took a deep breath, steadying her grip on the gun. “Sorry, but I work alone.”

  “Well, now that’s a shame,” Goatee said. “Sweet little thing like you’d be most welcome back at camp.”

  Arie’s arms shook, but her adrenaline was evening out. She could hear that word without killing someone else. Probably. “Look. I’m leaving. You can have whatever’s left. Store’s yours.” She began to edge toward him, angling around so she could see the door. No other movement outside.

  “I’m planning on that. But I had my heart set on that Blazer too. And a fresh face back home would make everyone feel a little better,” the man grinned.

  The metal in his hand shifted, and she saw it was a hunting knife, not a gun.

  “No,” she said, her voice more firm. “I’m leaving in that car. En too, if he wants.” She wasn’t sure about that last part, but she figured he’d been pretty desperate the last few days.

  Anyone might have done the same.

  She was only a few feet from them now, and the path to the door was clear. She darted for it, seeing the shine of metal hurtling for her just as she dove for the door, shooting blindly toward Goatee.

  A scream and a thud and a crack. It took her a few seconds to sort everything out. She’d cracked her shoulder on the door, and she was lying halfway out of it. The man was on the floor, blood seeping through his jeans near the knee. And Enrique was slumped face-down.

  Arie stumbled to her feet, keeping her gun trained on the man. He scrabbled around for his knife, cursing her continuously.

  She shoved at En and found the knife—she released a breath. Just a shoulder wound. A scratch, really. His eyes fluttered open, and he groaned. She slid the knife into her belt.

  “Suck it up, buttercup,” she said, glaring at him. She grabbed his hand and pressed it onto the wound, causing En to suck his air.

  “Get in the car. I’m driving.”

  En nodded and rose awkwardly, holding his hand over his shoulder.

  “Now,” Arie said, looking down at Goatee. “I can kill you. Or you can sit here like a good boy and watch us drive away.”

  Goatee just sneered at her, the hatred in his eyes showing that he knew she had the advantage.

  She walked backward out the door, her gun trained on him. Ducking into the alley, she jumped in the idling Blazer. En watched her warily as she threw the vehicle in reverse. The engine was loud in the empty neighborhood, and she was grateful for its speed as they careened toward the highway.

  “I’m sorry, Arie,” Enrique whispered, touching his hand to her shoulder briefly. She resisted the urge to shrug him away, but she also couldn’t bring herself to answer yet.

  So they drove in silence. The roads were surprisingly clear, as though nobody in this part of town had tried to leave. Of course, there hadn’t exactly been a chartered bus for virus evacuees.

  Once they hit 87 North toward Kingston, it was a different story. She had to reduce her speed and drive around accidents and clumps of abandoned cars. Some still had passengers, and Arie was glad the Blazer had air conditioning. She squirmed to think of the stench of bodies melting in the July sun.

  Maybe thirty minutes into the drive, Arie relaxed enough to talk to Enrique again. She still kind of wanted to hit him, but she let it go. He had made a crap decision, but she was okay. They were okay.

  “There’s medicine and gauze in your basics. You should treat that cut.”

  He opened his eyes. “Probably needs stitches,” he grumbled.

  “Probably. Or you could just leave it. Chicks dig scars.”

  He cracked a smile, and she allowed herself the same luxury. She took a deep breath. “I don’t blame you for falling in with those guys, you know.”

  Enrique snapped his face toward her. “How did you know?”

  She shrugged. “I could just tell. Anyways, all I’m saying is that anyone might have done the same thing.”

  “Would you?” he asked softly.

  “Probably,” she lied. Maybe it wasn’t a lie—she’d done plenty of things today that she never thought she’d do.

  En sighed and dug through the basics bag, finding a tube of antibiotic cream. Arie watched him out of the corner of h
er eye as he cleaned and dressed the wound. His movements were efficient and assured.

  “My mom taught me some things,” he said, sliding her a glance that said he’d seen her watching. Arie felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment and she stared straight ahead. “Arie…I never would have suggested Silver Lining to those clowns if I’d known you were still alive.”

  “I know,” she said. And she believed him.

  “But I’m really glad we’re doing this together, yeah?” His voice was sincere and almost hesitant.

  She glanced at him and smiled. “I know. Besides, a knight doesn’t just leave the damsel.”

  “Hey, I can’t help it if I like tough chicks,” he grinned. A fluttery feeling began in her chest, so she turned back to the road.

  They passed a mileage sign listing the next few towns—Kingston was less than an hour away. This just might work, she thought.

  A few miles later, Arie found herself squinting at the road ahead—cars were everywhere, blocking her path. There was an exit sign for Route 299 just before the blockade.

  “Does 299 go to Kingston?” she asked En. He pulled a map from the glove box. “Can’t believe you still have one of those,” she teased.

  “299 crosses over to 9W, which goes up to Kingston.”

  “Good enough.” She didn’t see a way around the pileup.

  She slowed her speed as she neared the jumble of cars. Then her stomach dropped as she realized they weren’t jumbled. They were parked neatly in a grid. Someone had planned this detour. Her gut screamed trap, but she didn’t know what else to do.

  I-87 didn’t have many cross roads—299 East would have to be good enough.

  The exit ramp loomed ahead and she pushed the gas pedal as she left the curve, giving the Blazer a burst of speed. But even as the road straightened, she saw they were closing in on toll booths.

  “Gates are smashed! Go on through,” En laughed. So she did, half-expecting sirens or tire spikes at any moment. But all was still and calm.

  Then she saw how more empty cars were gridlocked at the junction of the ramp and 299, forcing her east. Her entire body pulsed with nerves, but she had no other alternatives.

  Just as she swerved onto 299, a single car peeled out from the formation.

  Chasing them.

  She gripped the wheel tighter to keep her hands from shaking and pressed the gas even harder, but the Blazer just whined. It was no match for the Mustang in her rearview mirror.

  “What are they doing?” Enrique asked, fear finally evident in his voice.

  “I think you know what they’re doing. Get a gun and be ready to shoot!”

  She wished their positions were reversed—her leg made it harder to regulate speed, and En’s aim was questionable.

  “Find me a place to hide—we’ll never outrun them!” Arie demanded, her voice high with panic.

  “It’s too open!” He was right—this section of 299 was a mess of suburban sprawl—box stores and gas stations and too few trees.

  “There!” he yelled, pointing to the right. “Turn there! A park!”

  She jerked the car, nearly rolling it onto the side road. At least there was more cover here. Then she cursed as she realized they were only following the signs for a park—still not enough woods to shelter them. The Blazer bounced hard over a pothole. The road was too curvy to see how close the Mustang was to them, but Arie glimpsed it a few times.

  “Left!” En yelled, and she saw the park ahead.

  The Blazer skidded to a stop at the parking lot entrance, and Arie threw open her door. They scrambled out of the car just as another engine revved behind them.

  “Go,” she hissed at En, who was struggling to pull the duffle bag from the back seat. He glanced up and dropped the heavy bag. They sprinted toward a wooded area.

  She heard a car door slam, and the sound dropped her to her hands and knees like a gunshot. She ducked and rolled under a large bush. Enrique kept running, crashing through the trees. Arie knew she couldn’t outrun anyone—she’d just have to rely on her shooting skills. She grabbed her Beretta and was about to unzip her boot to get a full clip when she froze: voices—two men.

  “Couple of kids! Took off into those trees.”

  “Eh, don’t bother. We got the car. Looks like some sweet guns in these duffels, too.”

  “What if they come back?”

  “Then we’ll get ‘em then. They’ll probably double back anyways. Nothing out here.”

  “Where do you want me to take this SUV?”

  “Drive slow and watch for the kids, but head toward the bunker.”

  Two doors slammed and two engines started up. Arie pushed aside some leaves and watched as the Mustang and the black Blazer drove away.

  So much for transpo, she thought. Now, where was En?

  Arie clomped through the woods, cursing her special brand of luck. Those men were probably on their way to Kingston, too. Maybe she should have just shown herself and hitched a ride with them. Maybe they wouldn’t have been bad news.

  She huffed. Right. Maybe had never gotten her anywhere but disappointed.

  The trees bordered a large baseball complex, and beyond them she could see another parking lot. Her knee throbbed from the jar of the prosthetic against her skin. She wasn’t used to this sort of thing. Plus it was really hot now. She could feel her t-shirt stuck to her body under all her layers. She unbuttoned Bas’s shirt and looped it around the strap of her basics bag, leaving the ballistics vest on.

  “Enrique?” she called quietly.

  His head popped out from behind an abandoned van.

  “Thank God,” he said, rushing to her. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head, but he reached out and pulled her close anyways, wrapping his arms around her. Her face smashed against his broad chest and she could barely breathe.

  He still smelled pretty good, too, she noticed as she managed a deep breath. Arie rolled her eyes at herself for noticing something like that at a time like this.

  But disassociation was how she had always coped with the crap in her life. Don’t focus on the bad. Focus on something else.

  En pulled back and held her cheeks between his hands. The look in his eyes made her nervous in a whole new way.

  So she disassociated again. “They took the Blazer and our bags. Said something about heading toward a bunker.”

  “Kingston?” he asked, zeroing in on her suspicions.

  She shrugged. His thumb stroked down her cheek and she shivered, despite how thick and heavy the summer air was. She lowered her eyes, but he lifted her chin with a finger.

  “I can’t believe we got away again. I think you’re lucky, Arie,” he said, his voice low.

  She started to laugh at the absurdity. Bas had taught her to never rely on luck—better to just be prepared. But the laugh stuck in her throat as she glanced up. En gazed down at her, his hair falling into his wide brown eyes. Arie had always sneered at movies where people pause to kiss in the middle of battle or tragedy—unrealistic. No time for that. But suddenly she got it.

  There was nothing crazy about wanting a connection to life and love when you were walled-in by death and hate.

  He bent toward her and his lips brushed hers, soft and warm. Her fingers slipped to his waist, gripping at the fabric of his shirt, at desire and dreams, and all the things she had tucked away a lifetime ago. Her eyes slid closed and a whisper of his breath found her collarbone as he gathered her closer. His fingers trailed up her bare arm and she allowed herself to brush the hair from his face.

  He made her feel maybe.

  Then he leaned back, just a little too soon. He smirked, all dimples and bedroom eyes again. His fingers still caressed her neck, tangling in the rope of Bas’s necklace.

  The tags slipped outside of her shirt and distracted her. She looked down.

  “Your uncle’s?” En asked, keeping his arm around her waist as he pulled the necklace up. Arie nodded, staring at the tags as they twisted in the sunlight.
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br />   Then she grabbed the tags and twisted away from En, holding them closer to her face.

  “Sorry, Arie, I—”

  “Look!” she said, waving off his apology. One of the tags was different—not military issue. The metal was thicker and engraved on both sides. She examined the lines, an idea skipping just beyond the reach of her exhausted brain.

  En bent his head over the tag. He ran a finger along its edge. “There’s something in here. Like a pocket knife or something.”

  Arie dug a fingernail into the slit on the edge and it caught on a ridge. She pulled and something rotated out.

  “A key!” she said, laughing. En looked at her, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “A key to the crossroads…” Arie repeated Bas’s words.

  “What crossroads? What does it open?”

  “I don’t know. Just something Bas said.”

  En flipped the tag, examining it. “What are these lines?”

  She shrugged, but the pattern already seemed more familiar. There were two vertical lines, intersecting at the bottom and top, like a teardrop. Another line crossed them, about halfway up. A crossroads?

  “Key to the crossroads,” she repeated, as if it might help solve the puzzle. She started walking absently, following a paved trail that circled the park. Pacing had always helped her think, and they needed to move anyways.

  “So if those guys were heading to Kingston, should we still go?” En asked as he fell in step beside her along the shaded trail.

  “Do you still want to go?” she asked. Their eyes met for a long second before she blinked away.

  “If you do,” Enrique answered.

  “Okay. Yeah. The food in these basics bags might last a week. So we can head that way and scope it out carefully.”

  He nodded, his hand gripping the small bag strapped across his chest. Lucky, she thought, still flipping the tag over and over in her fingers.

  “I don’t have a gun, though,” En said.

  Arie grinned. “Now, don’t freak out, but I’ve got you covered.” She stopped walking and knelt down. He squatted next to her, his head tilted in question. She unzipped her boot and peeled back the leather to reveal her homemade prosthetic and the boot’s inner compartments, fitted like a puzzle around the leg.