Prep For Doom Page 43

When Kane returned to the peephole, a bloodshot eye greeted him, followed by a loud thud against the door. “You alive? Still not minding your own business? I’m doin’ her a favor, you hear?” the man yelled through the door. “I’ll do you one, too! Who else you got in there with you?”

  He continued to pound, louder and louder, each time drawing another whimper out of the boy. Kane shimmied two white medical masks from the cargo pocket on his right leg. They weren’t ideal but they were his only option.

  “If you breach that door I’ll open fire. There’s a kid in here.” He gripped the boy’s arm with his right hand and pulled him to his feet, all the while keeping the gun in his left trained on the door.

  The man became belligerent, the pounding erratic and intense. At first Kane had thought the man was kicking or beating with his fists until finally a piece of wood splintered around a tiny metal corner. The hatchet. The man was coming in one way or another.

  “The window,” Kane ordered the now hysterical boy, slipping the white masks on himself and the boy. When the next blow came and cut a lot deeper, Kane fired a warning shot into the wall above the door.

  Kane pushed the window open and shoved the little boy onto the fire escape. “Up the stairs,” he whispered, pulling the boy’s Batman t-shirt up over his mouth and nose for an added layer of protection. Then Kane took things into his own hands. He lit up the door and the surrounding walls with enough rounds to sink a ship.

  Kane pushed himself through the window, not waiting for confirmation of his target’s death. He scooped up the boy and scaled the fire escape as quickly as he could. “What’s your name?” He glanced below several times on his ascent: no sign of the knife-wielder.

  “Jagger.” The kid’s voice was shaky and weak.

  “Jagger, you have to be the toughest little kid in the great state of New York. Hang on tight.” Kane anticipated the wind atop the building coming off the helicopter and didn’t want the boy to lose his grip, but when they neared the final flight of stairs, he realized quickly that he couldn’t hear the roar of the blades whipping through the air.

  Panic seized him, pushing him even faster toward the roof. When he got there, nothing but plain old shock and awe greeted him. Martin and Rickshaw stood with a handful of survivors where the helicopter should have been.

  “Where’s Montgomery?” Kane yelled. Both men shook their heads. The bewildered looks on the rescued apartment residents’ faces only served to enrage Kane even more. “Where is my chopper? Where is my co-pilot?” Kane roared.

  “Sir, what happened to your mask?” Martin caught him off guard.

  “There was an infected family inside. A man attacked me.” Kane tensed when a gust of wind whipped across his burned jaw.

  Rickshaw took a step back. “But the intel—”

  “The intel was wrong.”

  Both soldiers shook their heads, and though Kane couldn’t see past their masks, he knew they probably thought he was a goner. The kid too.

  “I don’t think we were exposed,” Kane clarified, though he wasn’t sure. Siding with caution, he still kept a distance from the others. Not all of them had masks, and most of the ones who did probably had little more protection than a fishing net.

  His men, the loyal studs that they were, shook their heads, taking his word for absolute truth. “What are we gonna do, sir?” Martin took a step toward him.

  “Don’t come any closer. Soon as we get out of here, you’re putting us both in quarantine.”

  Rickshaw cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.” He shared another glance with Martin. This situation was crap and they all knew it.

  Jagger clung tighter to Kane’s neck until he put the child on his feet. “Listen, I don’t know how you survived so long or how long you’ve been alone, but that tells me you’re a tough guy and you can take care of yourself. Isn’t that right?”

  Jagger raised his chin a bit and dried his tears.

  “I need you to stay close to me no matter what. If you see anything, tell me so.”

  The boy nodded even more vigorously. “Y-yes sir,” he mumbled.

  “What’s our plan?” Rickshaw shouted across the rooftop.

  Kane glanced down the metal stairs again. “How’s the fire escape on the other side?”

  “They’re shot. They’ll only take us down about four flights.” The survivors began to murmur.

  “We’ll have to go this way then.” The last place Kane wanted to go was back down that escape. The man who had attacked him could still be down there. Kane hadn’t confirmed the kill. “There’s an open window on the tenth floor. When you pass it, make sure your faces are covered and you stay alert. Move quickly and quietly. I’ll go first. I’ll clear the room, then wave you on.”

  It sounded good in theory. Despite the pain the straps caused against his raw flesh, he checked and adjusted the medical mask. If he’d been infected, he didn’t want to breathe on the other survivors as they passed.

  “Let’s go, kid.”

  The rusty steps creaked under Kane’s weight. As he neared the open window, he paused to listen. Closer still, his heart rate began to pick up. He stopped the kid just outside the window. “Wait here and face the wall.” He glanced up the steps to where his men and the survivors waited, scared to come much closer. “When they walk by, make sure you don’t look at them, don’t turn to face them. If you’re sick…” He shook his head, unable to fathom how to relate this kind of concern for others to a child who probably couldn’t grasp the concept of anything beyond survival, especially in a situation like this. Kane couldn’t blame him for it. This was terrifying.

  Kane took a deep breath and knelt by the window, seeing no one inside. He slipped in and set his feet quietly on the carpet as he shouldered his rifle to draw his sidearm from his left hip instead. He moved into the kitchen, checking the cabinets and under the table. In the pantry. In the only bedroom and bathroom in the apartment.

  He made his way back to the window. “Clear.”

  Martin nodded and began guiding the group down the stairs. Kane stayed posted up by the window, pistol trained on the door, head turned away from the window. Who knew if these flu masks even did anything.

  The people filed past the window, Kane’s every muscle tense from the noise they were making. He wondered if they were even trying to be quiet. With as many bullets as Kane had put through that door, anyone could break it down at any moment.

  Kane spared a glance over his shoulder. The group was a little more than halfway past. Jagger’s eyes seemed focused on Rickshaw’s weapon and suddenly he broke out into sobs. Kane reached through the window and pulled the boy close, his eyes apologizing to the people passing by. He even tried not to breathe so as not to spread potentially infected molecules.

  Jagger’s crying intensified and another cry joined him. Only this one was coming from inside the apartment. Kane whipped his pistol into place and aimed at the heart of the bloody woman from across the hall. She held the dead toddler, limp in her arms. Bloody tears streamed down her face, desperation contorting her features. Her husband lay in a heap by the open doorway behind her.

  “Please help us,” she moaned. “Help my baby.” Her body rocked with deep sobs.

  “Don’t come any closer. We have survivors just outside.” Kane hoped she would listen, but the woman dragged her feet another step closer. “Jagger, turn around.” Kane clenched his teeth. He couldn’t check whether or not the boy had listened—couldn’t take his eyes off the woman and her dead child.

  The survivors outside had caught on to what was happening and began to panic, making all kinds of noise, which only sent the woman into more hysterics. “Please help us!” she cried. They moved faster, and so did she. Kane had no choice.

  He flipped the safety and pulled the trigger. Twice. He turned and pushed through the window, grabbing the boy. He jogged down the steps after the others, forcing himself to slow down and not get too close.

  “Hang in there, buddy.” The boy lay his head on K
ane’s shoulder.

  On the ground, the group waited, giving Kane and Jagger a wide berth.

  “Where to?” Rickshaw stood ready with his rifle aimed at the ground ahead of him. His eyes were wide with nerves or fear, but his jaw was set and he had a determined look. Kane could always count on him to be resolute. They were on this course and Rickshaw wouldn’t question him, wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t relent until these people were brought to safety.

  Martin wasn’t as solid, though he hadn’t gone against Kane in the time they’d been working together. Kane wished, for a moment, that these two had been with him under better circumstances.

  They’d met at jump school the week everything started, and he couldn’t believe he’d talked them into following him when he went rogue. To help people. They’d settled into the United States Emergency Government Shelter long enough to learn its location and hatch a plan. So far, they’d managed to rescue sixteen civilians, two government officials, and four injured military personnel. They had dropped them off at the entrance, and to their surprise the government shelter had taken them in—to be put through rigorous testing and quarantines, but they’d done what they could. Kane and his men couldn’t stop.

  Until now, Kane had always known what to do. He always had a plan, thought ahead, and had an easy escape via helicopter. Until now. He couldn’t say the words out loud. His pride wouldn’t let him. I don’t know what to do.

  He looked around, sweat beading on his forehead. He scanned the buildings around them. He spotted an extended SUV with the door hanging open. He set the boy down and held up a hand signaling the group to wait while he approached the vehicle. He searched for signs of infected people. There didn’t appear to be any.

  “Any of you know how to hot wire a car?” he asked, not really expecting to be so lucky.

  A scruffy guy in the back of the group lifted his hand.

  Kane nodded and backed away from the SUV, reuniting with Jagger. While the guy got to work, Kane looked for another vehicle. He couldn’t put himself and Jag in the same tight quarters with all those people.

  Everyone made their way to the SUV when the engine started to spark and they softly cheered when it finally turned over.

  Kane had just laid eyes on a motorcycle when he heard screeching tires a couple of blocks away, followed by a woman’s scream. The passengers scrambled into the SUV with Rickshaw at the wheel while Kane checked the ignition on the bike. Keys were in it. He straddled the bike and hoisted Jagger behind him with clear instruction to hold on tightly.

  Kane sped toward the sound, slowing to ease around the corner. He stopped when he spotted a wrecked car and a van racing in the opposite direction. He moved closer to the car where the driver was hunched over, fresh blood oozing from a bullet hole in his head.

  If he’d had time, Kane would have put the boy somewhere safe first. But he didn’t. Instead, he gunned the bike forward after the van. He chased them for three blocks before he gained on them. Someone leaned out the passenger window and opened fire. He twisted his rifle around from his back and returned fire, disabling the shooter, causing him to drop his weapon.

  Kane aimed for the back tire on the passenger side. He squeezed the trigger a couple of times before he finally lined up his shot and managed to strike it. The driver began to lose control and Kane took advantage, going after a second tire and soon striking it. Both the van and Kane screeched to a halt. Kane positioned himself on the other side of a car, where he shoved a sobered up Jagger to the ground. “Stay down.”

  Kane replaced his magazine and aimed at the van, waiting for someone to emerge. After a minute with no movement, he approached slowly. He heard a motor behind him and glanced over his shoulder in time to see his men round the corner from where the SUV waited out of sight. When he turned back, the van’s driver, who was dressed in black gear, slipped out with a gun raised. Kane didn’t hesitate to take a shot, center mass. He followed with a head shot, just in case the man had a vest under that gear.

  Quick footsteps approached Kane, who didn’t take his eyes off the van again until Martin and Rickshaw flanked him. “Who are they?” Martin asked, his eyes flitting around for more threats.

  Kane made a noise with his mouth to silence his friend and tilted his head to urge them forward alongside him. As they approached the van, they fanned out and peeked into the windows.

  Rickshaw reached for the door handle on the van’s passenger side. When he swung it open, he reached in and glanced up at Kane. “It’s a woman. Alive.”

  “Armed?” Kane asked, gun still raised.

  Rickshaw slung his weapon behind his back, leaning in. He pulled a hood from her head. “Unconscious.” He hoisted the woman out of the car and onto his shoulder, toting her to the sidewalk where he set her down. Martin went in behind him and pulled the passenger door open, allowing the body of the first shooter to fall out onto the ground unceremoniously.

  Without getting too close, Kane approached Rickshaw. He took note of the woman’s wounds: red marks about her neck, a reddened spot on her temple, something that could have been caused by a blunt object. The front of her blouse was setting crooked on her chest, revealing markings from her seatbelt, presumably from the crash moments earlier.

  Rickshaw attempted to rouse the woman, but couldn’t. He patted his pockets until he found a packet of ammonium carbonate, which he snapped and waved by her nose until her eyes shot open, widening the moment she was able to focus. She scurried away, her left shoe sliding off in the process. Her hair fell haphazardly around her face, the remains of a tight bun a messy pile on the back of her head.

  Rickshaw tried to calm her but his words were jumbled and Kane realized Rickshaw’s elevated voice wasn’t helping. He stepped forward, holding a hand toward the woman. She looked like a wild animal backed into a corner.

  “Miss, we’re National Guard. I’m Kane and that’s Rickshaw. He was just trying to help you. You were in a car accident—”

  “I was taken,” she corrected him.

  “Yes ma’am, I was getting to that part. Are you okay?” Kane had to fight the urge to step closer so she could see him better, know that he wasn’t a threat.

  She pushed herself to her feet, struggling to balance against a light pole. “No. No, I’m not okay.” She inched toward her missing shoe and Rickshaw took a step back to accommodate her. She slipped the shoe on.

  “We can help you.” Kane gestured toward the people now looking on. “We have a small group of survivors we’re leading to safety. We’re happy to take you in as well, we just…”

  Her eyes were locked on the van.

  “Do you know those men?” Kane asked her. Movement caught his eye and he glanced up to find Jagger’s face peeking over the car where Kane had left him. When their gazes connected, the boy launched out from his hiding place and ran to Kane’s side, hiding halfway behind his leg.

  “I don’t, but…” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Kane didn’t buy it. He looked around the area. “We need to get out of here, somewhere safe before whoever those men worked for send more people. Any idea why they were after you?”

  She shook her head again but bit her lip while attempting to smooth her hair back. She was lying. “Where are you taking people?”

  “It’s complicated,” Kane explained. “We had a helicopter. We were lifting people to the government’s shelter, but one of our own went AWOL with said chopper.” He cringed a little, still not wanting to admit defeat. Government ordered or not, this was his mission. The people looking on, terrified for their future, were his mission. The boy hugging tightly to his leg was his mission too. He wasn’t sure where they were going to go, but he knew they should hurry.

  “I’m Cassandra,” she mumbled. “I know a place.”

  * * *

  Cassandra rode shotgun with Rickshaw and the others, giving him directions. When they arrived at the New York offices of the Centers for Disease Control, Kane’s eyes widened. The temporary fences
had been knocked inward from some sort of crowd that had since dispersed. Bodies lay as evidence all over. Not the kind who had died of infection.

  Kane pulled up next to the passenger side of the SUV and glanced over. The woman had her hand over her mouth, her eyes filled with shock, on the brink of tears.

  The group pulled their vehicles closer to the building’s entrance. Kane and his small unit left all the others at the SUV. An older woman had climbed out to stand with Jagger, not caring if he was infected or not. She attempted to distract him from what was happening. Kane couldn’t fathom how the boy was processing all this destruction and death.

  Kane pulled open the building’s main door, surprised that the glass hadn’t been shattered by the bullets that had flown through recently.

  It took the three men nearly an hour to clear the entire building, but they secured the survivors in an office after clearing the first floor. When they came down, Cassandra was standing at the door biting her thumbnail.

  “Did you find anyone?”

  “Just bodies.” Kane placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Cassandra.”

  She tightened her lips and gave a stiff nod.

  “I still think this is a good place to set up. We can secure it, create a decontamination room, quarantines in lower floor offices.” Kane’s mind was racing, creating a checklist of how to make this place safe. “Honestly, our best option is to make sure it doesn’t look like we’re here at all.”

  Martin cracked his neck, not making eye contact with Kane. “Good idea to stay here? In light of what went down?”

  Kane sighed. “Someone came through and slaughtered these people. What reason would they have to come back?”

  “We’re assuming these are the same people that tried to snatch the girl, right?”

  “Cassie,” she interrupted, arms crossed. Suddenly her demeanor changed and she pushed her shoulders back. “I think we should stay. We are equipped for the things you mentioned, and we already have a decon unit.”

  Rickshaw smiled. “Chief, I’m with you. Put me to work.”

  “It’s settled then. We’re staying.”