Claire nodded grudgingly. “You’ll teach me one day.”
“Promise.”
Gaby nodded at Danny, then turned around and moved toward the back bumper. She leaned out and looked up the highway. The white Ford was where she last saw it, about fifty yards up the road. The red Chevy was still parked across from it, but there were no signs of the men she had seen earlier.
“Anything?” she said, looking back at Danny.
He was leaning out too, when he pulled back and shook his head. “Squadoosh.”
“The guy behind the divider?”
“No signs of him.”
“What’s going on, Danny?”
“Hell if I know.” Then he sighed. “Stay here.”
“No,” she said, and lunged out from behind the bumper and into the open before he could protest.
Maybe it was a little bit courage, a little bit stupidity, or just a lot of adrenaline. Either way, she was sick and tired of hiding, of being hunted, and Gaby practically ran up the interstate with her rifle in front of her, eyes zeroing in on the two vehicles, looking for a head, a body, or just a limb. Something—anything—that she could shoot.
She was, she realized, just too pissed off to think clearly at the moment.
And Danny wasn’t trying to stop her. Instead, he had somehow hopped the divider and was moving up the highway at the same time and keeping pace with her, which was amazing given that he was limping the whole time, and she was pretty sure he was in extreme pain by the way he was grimacing with every inch.
“Don’t shoot!” a voice shouted.
It was male, but not the same one who had been trading barbs with Danny earlier. This one was coming from behind the Chevy.
Gaby went down on one knee and lined up her scope on the red truck. She was halfway to her target and wanted desperately to find cover, but there was none around her. She was out in the open, but at least she had her rifle. A year ago, the idea of dying with her weapon clutched in her hands would have been surreal. These days, it was the best-case scenario she could hope for.
She screened the car windows, looking for signs of a head—something.
But the man was smart and remained hidden.
She sneaked a peek at Danny and saw him moving steadily up the highway on the other side of the concrete barrier. He was twenty-five yards from the truck and getting closer, and it didn’t seem like the shooter had noticed him.
“Gaby!” the voice said.
The sound of her name sent chills through her.
What the hell?
Danny had stopped ten yards from the closest vehicle and went into a crouch. She could just barely make out the top of his head on the other side of the structure, but she knew he had reacted exactly the same way she had — confused and surprised by the sound of her name.
“Gaby!” the man called again. “Don’t shoot!”
“Who the hell are you?” Gaby shouted back.
“I’m throwing out my weapon!”
“Do it!”
An AR-15 skidded across the highway from behind the Chevy. It didn’t stop until it had gotten ten feet from the back bumper. A second later, a Glock followed, landing a few feet from the rifle.
“I’m unarmed!” the man shouted.
“Come out with your hands up!” Gaby shouted, trying to inject as much menace into her voice as possible.
She didn’t have a clue what was happening. Where did the other two men go? Was there some kind of gunfight? A betrayal? Was the last remaining man trying to surrender to them? Was this some kind of trick? If it was, it was overly elaborate, because the shooters had them pinned. They had all the advantage and this…this didn’t make any sense at all.
What the hell is going on?
“Gaby!” the man shouted again.
There was something in the way he said her name, as if he knew her. As if they were close. Except she didn’t recognize the voice.
Or did she?
“Yeah?” she shouted back.
“You don’t recognize my voice, do you?” the man asked.
Not a goddamn clue.
“Maybe!” she said instead. “Come out and show yourself!”
“Coming out!” he said. “Tell the guy behind the divider not to shoot!”
Danny stood up on the westbound shoulder and took aim as the figure stepped out from behind the truck, his hands raised above his head. She immediately picked up the camouflage uniform, with the familiar white star insignia above a name tag and a patch with the Louisiana boot on one shoulder.
The man walked toward her. The sun was behind him, and instead of providing the clarity she needed, the light instead turned him into a silhouetted figure whose face was hidden almost completely in shadows.
“You really don’t recognize my voice?” he asked. She thought he sounded almost hurt.
“No,” Gaby said, standing up. She hadn’t lowered her rifle, and neither had Danny. She squinted against the sunlight, trying to see his face. “What happened to the other two?”
“I shot them.”
“Why?”
“I had to, or they would have killed or captured you. I couldn’t let either of those things happen.” He paused, then added, “Has it really been that long? You really don’t remember me…”
By now, Danny had reached the trucks and climbed back onto their part of the highway. He hobbled his way around the Chevy and then peered behind the white Ford.
“Danny?” Gaby called. “What do you see?”
“Two bodies,” Danny said. “Looks like he’s not lying. He took them both out.”
“I told you,” the man said.
“Who the hell are you?” Gaby said.
“Can I come closer?” he asked.
She nodded. “Slowly…”
He continued walking toward her, making a concerted effort not to move his hands too much or lengthen his stride to give the impression of aggression. He was taller than her, though not by very much. Maybe five-ten to her five-seven.
“They made me cut my hair,” he said. When he got to within ten yards of her, he stopped and she could finally see his face.
“You,” she said, the word coming out as barely a whisper.
“Too bad, too,” Nate said, smiling wryly at her. “Chicks dug the Mohawk.”
CHAPTER 5
LARA
Will would have taken Gage into the back of the boat, made him stand next to the railing, then shot him in the back of the head and let the body drop to the water below. And Lara wouldn’t have lifted a hand to stop him, or think about it ever again. Will did what had to be done and though it sometimes stayed with him, he never looked back on it with regret. Or, at least, he never let her think that he did.
She wasn’t Will, though.
Instead of putting Gage out of his (their) misery, she decided to use him, always keeping in mind what the man was capable of. She had no doubts there were crimes he had committed since The Purge that she didn’t know about and that he would never willingly confess to, but she knew what he had intended to do to the island. He had admitted as much, and Keo had told her what he had overheard Gage and his first mate, the man without the head inside the bridge, discussing before he opened fire on them.
“They’ve done it before,” Keo had said. “A lot of times, from the sound of it. They might as well be talking about the weather.”
“And you’re sure?” she had asked, looking him in the eyes because she needed to know with absolute certainty.
Keo had nodded. “I’ve breathed the same air, eaten with, and lived with guys like Gage. Trust me when I tell you, what they had in store for the island would have turned your stomach.”