Redemption Trilogy (Book 2): Penance Page 5

  “There were too many of them. We had wounded, and we were done, man. Just…fuck me, we were all done. I had nothing left that day.

  “They set up the lobby for the fights. Fucking col-labs stood around and watched, and some of them—I swear, I ever see those motherfuckers, they’d better hope to hell they’re fucking dead already.”

  Mahton paused to square himself away. Jed let him take his time, but he had so many questions eating him up inside.

  “They cheered, like it was a fucking cage match. We could hear ’em, like—” Mahton stopped, and then turned away. Jed could tell the guy was holding in a mouthful of crying and then some.

  “Hey, man. We’ll get ’em back. The people Tucker took. If they’re still alive out there, we’re gonna get ’em back.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that, Welch. But I’m not holding out for a win on this one. C’mon,” he said, standing up and moving to the door. “Sergeant wanted me to show you the fireholes. And we’re supposed to be on the roof. You need to see what we’re up against.”

  — 6 —

  Gallegos checked in with Reeve before she racked out. She’d done a few sets of curls. It hadn’t been a full workout, but it warmed her muscles. That was enough.

  Just get the blood moving, keep the mind alive.

  She stood in the doorway to the art gallery now, debating whether or not she should take the first shift and let Reeve hit the rack ahead of her.

  Mahton’s drawings lined the walls. Reeve was staring hard at one of them in the opposite corner.

  “Yo, Reeve. You good?”

  “Errr,” he replied, turning on his heel and stepping into the room, where he had a better view of the window. She watched him walk and took in his stride. He moved like a robot, one foot in front of the other, eyes front, hands holding his weapon.

  Finger on the trigger.

  Gallegos pushed that thought away. It was a natural reflex for anyone standing guard in the gallery. The room only had one door and one window, which looked out over the street. If it came to it, and escape through the door wasn’t possible, whoever was in this room had only one way out.

  And they were three floors up.

  The art gallery was probably an old conference room. It was long and narrow, with the window at one end and a drop down projector screen at the other. The screen was covered in Mahton’s art now. Lines of charcoal and pencil formed what looked more like a child’s scribbling than anything Gallegos would have called art, at least back before the MOMA was overrun with suckers and blood splatters became the only brushstrokes left for anyone to see.

  Their platoon had nearly met their end in that building. Only she, Gunny Pacau, and a few of their men got out alive. That was where Mahton had grabbed his sketchpad and a few pencils.

  “It’ll keep me going,” he’d said. And he was right. Even though his drawings were all pictures of the sucker faces, it had been enough to keep him from falling apart. She’d seen him near the breaking point so many times, and each time he picked up a pencil, it’s like he went back to a time before monsters had eaten the world.

  But Reeve doesn’t have art or working out. All he has is that shit he stuffs under his lip. And it shows.

  “Reeve, you need me to cover this shift?”

  “I’m good,” he said, spitting a wad of brown goo at the wall. It just missed one of Mahton’s drawings.

  “Don’t bullshit me, Marine. You need down time, you gotta say something. Rah?”

  “Rah. Oorah,” he said, and looked at her over his shoulder. He’d stuck a pretty big wad of chew in his lip, making it bulge out. He looked like he’d been stung by some giant bee or wasp.

  Reeve cracked a grin, the same one he always showed her when he wanted to be left alone. His chew pushed his lip out even farther, making him look like a cartoon version of himself. Gallegos knew better than to push things with him, but she also knew that sooner or later, she’d run out of time to get him right.

  We might be up one man with Welch joining us, but I’m still down half a man until Reeve gets squared away.

  ***

  Mahton led the way out of the makeshift garrison and down more hallways full of empty offices and ruined furniture. Here and there he would point out a hole in the floor.

  “Fireholes. They drop down into mop closets. If the suckers get in here, you make for the closest firehole. Bust out the door and haul ass.”

  “Where to?”

  “Wherever the fuck you can. We have every hallway blocked from the entrances. You’ll have to push your way through a barricade. The only easy way inside is from the roof. So if they’re in here, somebody failed to hold our perimeter up top or in the guard rooms on the 3rd floor. That means we’re short at least one of us and probably two.”

  Jed swallowed, thinking about what would happen if he was the guy who fucked up on guard duty. Would they decide he was working with Tucker and kill him?

  Probably. If any of us are still alive.

  Mahton pushed through a door into a stairwell and Jed followed. It took them up to the rooftop through an access door. Jed shielded his eyes from the glare as they stepped onto the tarred roof.

  “Shit, it’s bright,” he said as he joined Mahton on the roof. “Guess that’s good for us. They don’t like the sunlight.”

  “Doesn’t seem to bother ’em really. Not if there’s food in their sight picture. C’mon.”

  They followed the edge of the roof toward the corner, pausing every few steps to listen and scan the city for any signs of the monsters. Mahton pulled Jed over to an air conditioning unit where they squatted down. A string of empty plastic water bottles dangled from a line of five-fifty cord. The cord was looped around the neck of each bottle in a quick-release knot. Jed was going to ask what they were for when he noticed the yellow liquid filling the last bottle.

  “You guys save your piss?”

  “Yeah, and it makes me sick to do it.”

  “Why?”

  “Hygiene, motherfucker. It’s fucking gross. You see any running water around you? Only water we got left is in a five gallon jug down in the barracks, and it ain’t full. So taking a bath? Washing your hands? We got baby wipes, but they’re about to run out, too. We gotta hold the piss bottle with one hand to make sure it doesn’t spill.”

  Jed had to hold in his laughter. Mahton was killing him with this shit.

  Dude’s worried about getting a little piss on his hands when his face is covered in dirt and blood?

  “You looked in a mirror lately, Mahton?”

  “Fuck you, Welch. I’m dirty like you’re dirty, because I don’t have a choice. I’d wash my hands every time if I could.”

  “So why don’t you?”

  “I said we’re running out of wipes. We wash our hands once a day, after our last piss.”

  Mahton shrugged and shook his head like he wanted to forget the whole thing.

  “What are you saving it for?” Jed asked.

  “The suckers don’t like it,” he said. “It’s a territory thing. When we get a bottle filled up, we take it down to the ground floor and pour it around the stairwell. That’s why it’s so stank down there.”

  Jed kicked himself for thinking Mahton was a candy-ass. He was doing what he could to survive. Just like Jed had always done.

  Mahton nudged him to follow as he moved to the end of the cooling unit. They had a clear view of most of the city from there. And most of what Jed saw he wished he could forget. Destruction and ruin spread out like a stain in every direction. Seeing New York from this height, and in this state—it was like Iraq, all crumbling apartment blocks, and mounds of dust and debris everywhere he looked.

  But it was so much worse. This had been home. These streets had been where Jed grew up, where he’d played, and where he’d had all the chances in the world to make something of himself.

  And where he’d made all his biggest mistakes.

  Now there was nothing left to remind him of the life he’d almost lost running with the bangers in high school. Or the life he couldn’t save in the sewers down below the street.

  Meg, I’m sorry. If I’m getting a second chance here with Mahton and them, I’ma make it right. I won’t waste the life you gave me.

  Jed sucked in a breath, swallowed his tears, and focused on the city again.

  A path of bombs had leveled nearly every building around them except for two high rise apartments on the opposite side of the depot. The bombers had dropped their payloads in diagonals through the neighborhood, bringing down smaller apartment blocks, office towers, and every mom and pop pizza joint for as far as the eye could see. But they’d left the bus depot and nearby high rises untouched. Jed was stunned at how the depot seemed to stand above everything now, and it was just a four story building.

  Mahton slid away from the air conditioning unit and waved Jed to follow. They moved together, duck-walking over to the low railing that ringed the rooftop, aiming for the corner that looked out over Lexington Avenue. Bits of the railing had fallen away in places. Jed froze when he saw claw marks and blood stains around one missing section.

  “That’s where they came up, huh?” he asked.

  “Yeah, the suckers spotted the civilians hiding in the top floor offices. They had weapons and were pulling guard shifts when we got here. They were pretty good, I guess. Almost good enough.”

  Mahton waved Jed forward again as they made slow progress to the corner of the roof.

  “Somebody fell asleep on guard?” Jed asked when they got in position.

  “More or less. It was a guy who worked in this building. Dude was a fucking idiot. He knew all the hiding spots. Him and this girl he was banging forgot to keep one eye on the windows while they got busy.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “We found them, still joined at the hip but missing their throats. The suckers took them out first, then ran through the halls eating up everything that didn’t shoot back. And that was most of them.”

  “You, Sergeant G, and Reeve…” Jed let the rest of his question go unasked. Mahton ran a hand under his nose and told Jed to keep an eye on the street below.

  “I gotta hit the head. Stay here, and stay low.”

  Jed nodded and went back to watching the quiet ruins. Nothing moved except the wind, blowing dust and debris across the shattered landscape. The city seemed to breathe around him again, a shaking and stuttering sort of inhale and exhale. New York looked ready to die any day, but it just wouldn’t give up the ghost.

  “Maybe you’re waiting for someone to save you, huh?” Jed said to what was left of the skyline. He eyeballed every intersection and every still-standing building, but it was like watching sand dunes walk. If anything was alive out there in the city, he couldn’t see it.

  ***

  Gallegos laid down on her mat and stretched every muscle in turn, starting with her neck. Two days of living like animals and she still couldn’t go to sleep without her little rituals. She flexed her forearms, then rotated her wrists. She spread her palms and stretched her fingers.

  Then Alexandra Gallegos let out a deep breath as the weight of the day slid off her.

  Half a beat passed and she rolled onto her side, scooped up her vest and shrugged into it. She sat up, strapped on her brain bucket, grabbed her M4 and clipped it onto its sling.

  Reeve needs a break more than I do. My mission, my men, myself. Always in that order. Always until the end.

  — 7 —

  Jed felt Mahton come up beside him again. “Pretty fucked up, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Yeah, it is. Did the flyboys know you were here?”

  “I don’t know. Everywhere you look it’s the same thing. Piles of shit on top of piles of shit. I think we got lucky.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t luck. Maybe it was God looking out for you.”

  Jed continued scanning the city streets, what was left of them. Only Lexington Avenue was clear of damage in this area. All the cross streets were pockmarked, and in some places so badly blown apart that nothing would travel on them again. Even Park Avenue was full of rubble and shattered glass.

  “I bet that’s what it was,” Jed said. “God spared this building.”

  “Maybe,” Mahton said. “Whenever I look out there, I kinda think God gave up on us. Or maybe the bombers were told where to drop their payloads and this wasn’t it. I don’t really care. But it’s that building you should be worried about.”

  Mahton pointed across the track of destruction left by the bombs to where a low and also undamaged building hugged an intersection on the opposite corner of the next block.

  “That used to be a fire department and police precinct,” Mahton said. “Now it’s the col-lab’s stronghold.”

  The building was a lot like ones Jed had seen in Iraq, stout and thick, surrounded by destruction, and painted the color of sand. A parking lot behind it was mounded on all sides with debris and the ruins of cars and vans. Tangled pieces of chain link fence hung over the edge of the parking lot, like the claws of some demon rising out of the earth. And right in the middle of all that, in a cleared space, sat a black dual-wheeled pickup truck. Even from this distance, Jed knew it had to be the truck he’d seen earlier.

  As he and Mahton watched the building, two figures exited a door, hopped down a short flight of steps, and walked over to the pickup. They stood near it talking for a bit. Jed wished he could hear them.

  “Is that Tucker?” he asked.

  “Shit, I don’t know,” Mahton said. “We don’t have any binos, unless you’ve been hiding a set up your ass.”

  The figures by the truck finished whatever they were talking about and got into the vehicle. Another figure stepped out from behind a debris pile and moved to open a gate that was up against the building. It slid aside with a squeal, showing a clear path out of the parking lot, under a breezeway.

  “So that’s their hideout,” Jed said.

  “Yep,” Mahton said. “We get lucky, someday we might be able to take them out and move into the place. That building’s a lot more secure than this one.”

  Jed focused on the truck. He didn’t know who was driving it, and he didn’t care. If it came close enough, he’d do what he should have done earlier.

  Take ’em out. The driver first and then whoever survives the crash.

  The truck wheeled away down Lexington, heading toward East Harlem. A few blocks up, the driver navigated a tight turn to avoid a crater that filled half the intersection. The rumble of the motor faded as the truck disappeared from view around the corner.

  “They’ll be back quick,” Mahton said.

  “How do you know?”

  “All those craters in the road. There’s only a few streets they can still use, so they don’t have that much range. Besides, you try driving around a city run by monsters and see how fast you make for home.”

  “I thought you said they worked together.”

  “They work with one bunch, but there’s more out there. More of the big ones giving orders and shit. We’ve seen at least two more, not counting Tucker’s boss. It’s like they got little gangs. This one made a deal with Tucker and his guys. Doesn’t mean he can just hang out on the block. The other ones will tear his ass up.”

  Mahton went quiet and Jed figured he should let it drop. He’d learned enough about Tucker’s operation in the short moments he’d spent on the roof. The mission was clear in his mind: Stop Tucker and save as many people as he could before they got turned into dummies for gladiator matches with the monsters.

  Jed was about to ask Mahton if he’d ever seen other monsters attacking the truck when it appeared again, coming fast down Lexington, and this time from the same direction as it had when Jed was on the street. The truck pulled to a stop and idled half a block down from the depot building.

  “How’d they get around behind us? Do you think they know we’re up here?”

  “Ran a circle around the neighborhood. That’s what they usually do. Head out one direction and come back from the other. But they don’t usually stop like that. Keep an eye on them. I’ma tell Sergeant G about this.” Mahton duck-walked across the roof until he was at the air conditioning unit, then he ran in a crouch to the access door. Jed kept as still as he could, monitoring the truck and hoping against hope that he’d get a chance to end Tucker’s operation right then and there.

  — 8 —

  Gallegos stepped into the ruins of another old conference room, on the Lexington side of the bus depot. She’d tried to convince Reeve to rack out for a while, but he was too wired from his dip. So she’d left him covering Park Avenue and came over to support Mahton and Welch watching Lexington.

  Guess I’m too wired myself. Or maybe this is it. Maybe the col-labs are about to make their move and my gut’s telling me to stay on point.

  She’d been worried that Tucker’s people knew they were in the bus depot and were just waiting for the right moment to make an assault. She and her team could hold off a squad of men maybe, but more than that…

  A rumbling engine echoed through the streets and Gallegos moved deeper into the room. She couldn’t go too far forward because the windows at the end of the room were all blown out. She’d be spotted by anyone in the col-lab stronghold if they had binos.

  With New York in a state of permanent sleep, even the slightest movement would be noticed. Her aunts used to talk about what could happen in a New York Minute, like it was a sight to behold, this huge city bustling and swarming with activity. They’d come over and drink with her mom and dad, laughing loud into the late night and telling stories about what they’d seen around the neighborhood.

  Gallegos was still just Little Alexa back then. She envied her aunts for their life of freedom, the way they could come and go, walking up and down the streets with friends, going into clubs or bars.

  They’d loved this city and never had a bad thing to say about it.

  If you could just see it now.