“This is your chance to fix your mistake,” he continued. “You won’t be able to bring back all the lives that’ve already been lost, but you can prevent new ones from being snuffed out. Get me on Black Tide Island, and I’ll do the rest.”
Slowly, very slowly, her jaw relaxed, as did the rest of her body. “Can you do it?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
“It won’t be easy.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
“And what happens if you succeed? You think it’ll stop all of this?”
“Yes,” he answered, again without hesitation. “From everything I’ve heard about the man, he’s almost single-handedly driving this by the force of his personality. Without him, it would grind to a halt — at least temporarily. But that might be enough time for people like Riley, like James and Hart, to finally feel safe enough to speak up. As long as Mercer’s running the show, they’ll never speak up. It’s too dangerous, and it’s not just their necks on the line. Everyone has friends and loved ones to think about.”
Shit, you almost convinced yourself that time, pal!
Keo didn’t know if he actually believed what he had just told Erin, but he wasn’t going to voice that doubt, and he was hoping it didn’t show on his face.
“He has loyalists,” Erin said. “They’ll keep fighting even after he’s gone.”
“Commanders don’t keep a war going, Erin. Foot soldiers do. Civilians like the ones on the Ocean Star do. Without them, the machine can’t keep going.”
Keo picked up another chair from a corner and walked over, then sat down in front of her. Only a few feet separated them, and he caught her eyes sneaking over to his holstered sidearm as he took out a knife and sliced the zip ties from her hands. When he put the knife away and looked up, her eyes had returned to his face while she rubbed her wrists.
He leaned forward, and if she wanted to, she could have reached over and snatched his pistol out of its holster.
Except she didn’t.
Not yet, anyway.
“I need a guide,” Keo said. “You know the place. I don’t. And I can’t afford to still be running around looking for Mercer when the sun comes up. So I need you, Erin. Are you in or out?”
Her stare never wavered from his face. “You’re either insane or delusional if you think you can pull this off, even with my help.”
“Are those my only two choices?”
“Or suicidal.”
“How about none of the above?”
He smiled at her then leaned in even closer. She would have absolutely no trouble grabbing his gun now.
Except she still didn’t.
“Help me end this madness,” Keo said. “Only one more person needs to die. You know deep down that I’m right, that this is the only course of action left. There’s no other way.”
“On one condition…”
“Name it.”
“Promise me you’ll do everything possible to keep the body count to a minimum.”
“I’ll do the best I can.”
“Promise me.”
“I’ll keep the body count to a minimum,” Keo nodded.
She sat back in her chair and let out a long sigh, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from her shoulders. “When do we leave?”
He stood up. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Not since this morning.”
He picked the chair back up and returned it to the corner. “We’ll get something to eat first, then shove off at midnight. It’ll be a nice moonlit boat ride in the dark. Might even be romantic, if you play your cards right.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m single, you’re single…”
“In your dreams.”
“Oh, trust me, we’ve done more than just a moonlit boat ride in my dreams.”
She smirked. Then, as he turned to the door, “Hey.”
Keo stopped and looked back.
“On a scale of one to ten,” she said, “how certain were you I wasn’t going to take your gun and shoot you just now?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he drew the Sig Sauer and tossed it to her.
She caught the gun easily, and by the startled look on her face, he guessed she figured it out pretty fast.
“It’s not loaded,” Erin said, weighing the gun in one hand.
“Not as dumb as I look, remember?”
She sighed and tossed him back the gun. “Dick.”
“Not the worst thing I’ve been called tonight,” Keo said as he holstered the gun.
“You said you needed to get this done before morning.”
He nodded.
“So tell me you have a good plan to make that happen,” Erin said. “Tell me that this isn’t a spray-and-pray suicide run.”
“I have a plan,” Keo said. “Whether it’s a good plan… Well, I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
22
Gaby
“Back at Starch,” Danny said. “It was the same one. I couldn’t put my finger on it before, but I always knew there was something different about that one. It just took me a little time to figure it out.”
“Danny, its eyes look just like all the other blue eyes,” Gaby said. “How can you tell it apart from the ones that attacked us last night?”
“Trust me on this, kid. It’s him.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not.”
“But what if?”
Danny shook his head. “I’m not. And I need you to trust that I’m not.”
She didn’t answer him, because she didn’t know how. She was afraid of what would come out if she opened her mouth. Instead, she stared at him across the semidarkness of the hallway and said nothing. Danny was bleeding from a number of cuts along his temple and arms, and despite the stink of smoke, sweat, and blood clinging to every inch of him — and her and Nate, and the entire building, for that matter — he was still in one piece.
Danny was looking at her, but not at her. He was staring at — and through — the closed door behind her. On the other side was the creature that had literally fallen into their laps when the back section of the bank’s roof caved in from the blast. It had been some kind of bomb, and if it had detonated any closer they would all be dead right now instead of just dirty and smelly and bleeding from small cuts.
“Torch it,” Benford had said into the radio. Whoever he had been talking to hadn’t managed to set the town on fire, which she was grateful for, but if the First Gallant Bank was any indication, the lone warplane had left plenty of wreckage behind outside their walls. Thank God there had just been the one plane. If there had been more, with extra munitions available to drop…
She glanced out the hallway at Nate, just to make sure he was still there. He was crouched next to the counter in the lobby and only had eyes for the large pile of rubble that had inadvertently covered up the hole put in the front wall by Benford’s grenade launcher. Slabs of partially intact concrete jutted out of the chaos, the big and small pieces awash in the blue of the moonlight that pooled inside the bank through the large, jagged opening where that section of the roof used to be. Rooftop gravel carpeted almost the entire length of the lobby, with most of it concentrated near the front.
Gaby was just glad she couldn’t see the street outside, because that meant whoever (whatever) was out there couldn’t see in, either. Not that she had any delusions a pile of brick and mortar and concrete was going to keep back the creatures if they wanted to come in. All it would take was a short climb and they would be inside.