She simply squeezed the trigger and the carbine jumped slightly without the benefit of a second hand to steady it, but she unleashed enough rounds — and, more importantly, in the right direction — that the man screamed as bullets chopped into his legs just around the kneecaps. Many more rounds missed him and slammed into the far wall — and he collapsed to the debris-strewn floor, his body jerking uncontrollably the entire way down.
Gaby didn’t stop firing until she had emptied the entire magazine. She quickly pulled out a fresh mag from her pouch with her good hand and reloaded the rifle, her eyes glued on the twitching form the entire time. The collaborator had landed on his back with both legs still attached, but enough blood had gushed out of his destroyed limbs that they blanketed the area under and around him in no time. A thick stream was already flowing in her direction, and Gaby found herself fascinated by it even as she jerked back the charging handle, doing the whole thing without having to look down at the rifle once.
She couldn’t see the dead man’s head or face because of the angle he had landed, but she could hear him gulping for air just fine. Because of the way his hands were positioned, she had no fears that he was going to reach for the fallen rifle or his holstered sidearm anytime soon.
“Did you get her?” a voice asked. It was Mason, and it was coming from another two-way, this one still clipped to the (dying) dead man’s waist. Mason sounded out of breath, as if he had been running. “Carter, did you get her?”
No, Carter didn’t get me, you shit.
Gaby scanned the diner while doing her very best to ignore the new stabs of pain that seemed to be coming from everywhere. If one of Mason’s goons had managed to sneak into the building unnoticed, a second — even a third — could have done the exact same thing.
So where were they? Because she was ready. Or she was as ready as she was going to be, anyway.
After about five seconds without an answer from Carter, the radio on the floor next to her squawked, and Mason said, “I guess it’s true what they say: If you want something done, you have to do it yourself.” He sighed, sounding exasperated but resigned. “Maybe next time, sweetheart. Until then, don’t forget me, huh?”
Go to hell, she thought. Go to hell…
Sometime between when Mason signed off and she was telling him to go to hell while staring at the unmoving body at the other end of the counter, she closed her eyes and didn’t open them again until a voice said, “Hey-o, what have we here?”
She snapped awake and turned her head because the voice had come from right next to her—
“Relax, it’s me,” Danny said.
She let out a relieved sigh and forced her finger off the trigger. “Jesus, Danny…”
“No, just Danny, but you’re not the first person to confuse me with a higher power.”
He was crouched next to her, looking past her at the dead body on the other end. She choked back tears at the sight of him. She didn’t know how he was still alive or how he had gotten here, and she didn’t care, either.
“You made a hell of a mess there, kid,” Danny was saying. “Remind me never to invite you to Danny’s Game Nights in the future.”
“I’d kick your ass,” she said.
“Oh, I have no doubt,” he said, and grinned at her through a face full of scratches and bandages. Gaby didn’t even want to think about what kind of work Zoe was going to have to do on all three of them when they made it back to the Trident.
All three of us…
“Nate?” she said, almost too afraid to see the response on his face.
Except he smirked, which was a good sign.
“Limping around somewhere outside, but otherwise still in one piece,” Danny said. “Well, mostly. I had to leave him behind so I could take care of the dudes hiding in the donut shop.”
“What happened?”
“There were guys. I killed them. No big whoop.”
“Did you get him? Mason?”
Danny shook his head. “Sneaky little bugger must’ve snuck out before I showed up and ventilated the place.”
“He’s really good at that…”
“His luck’s going to run out sooner or later.”
“Hopefully sooner…”
Danny nodded when suddenly he jerked his head toward the street and lifted his M4 from the floor.
“What is it?” she asked, because she hadn’t heard anything.
“Cars,” Danny said.
“I don’t hear—”
“Stay here,” he said before she could finish.
“Danny, wait—”
But he was already on his feet and rounding the counter.
She sighed and tried to get up, but the pain was too much and she had to sit back down. With the carbine still across her lap, she waited to hear gunshots, but there was just the silence and…
She gave up and closed her eyes.
“Hey,” Nate said as he hovered over her.
“Hey,” she said, smiling up at him. “You’re alive.”
“I am. And you are, too. You did a pretty good job with that shoulder. Good thing you’ve had a lot of experience lately.”
“You really okay?”
“Stop worrying about me.”
“I can’t help it.”
He smiled. “Okay, if you insist.”
He reached down and stroked her cheek, and she leaned against the familiar and welcoming feel of his hand as she tried to figure out where she was.
She was lying down, she knew that much, but where? It wasn’t the diner’s hard-tiled floor under her, but it wasn’t quite a mattress, either. Maybe one of the booths? It was definitely something soft, and she never wanted to get up.
“It’s a van,” Nate said, seeing the look on her face.
“A van?”
“They found it near the shoreline. I don’t think they had any idea how handy it’s going to be, with you and the chest and all.”
“They?”
“I’ve been called worse,” a familiar voice said.
Gaby turned her head and saw Carly leaning over the front passenger seat of the vehicle. She had a ball cap on, long red hair spilling out along the sides, and she had a contagious grin on her face as she looked back at Gaby and Nate.
“And yes, in case you were wondering, I was totally eavesdropping on all the lovey-dovey talk,” Carly said.
“Thank God you’re here,” Gaby said. “I’m getting so sick and tired of staring at these two guys all the time.”
“You’re just saying that because I brought a van to pick you up.”
“Yeah, that too.”
“Now that we’re all caught up, what’s in the chest?”
“The chest?”
“The chest,” Nate said. “Remember?”
Oh. Right. The chest.
It was an old-fashioned wooden treasure hope chest, to be specific. They had found it in an antique shop next to the bank. The building had almost completely collapsed in on itself from the bombing, but the chest, all thirty-by-eighteen-by-twenty inches of it, stood out from the destruction anyway, heavily chipped by falling debris but intact. They had covered up all the edges where even the littlest bit of sunlight could possibly penetrate with duct tape and ended up using three full rolls just to be absolutely certain.
“So what’s in the chest?” Carly asked again, looking from Nate to Gaby.
“You didn’t ask Danny?” Nate said.
“He wouldn’t tell me. Kept saying it was a surprise.”
“Oh, it’s a surprise, all right.”