Broken Tide | Book 6 | Breakwater Read online

  The man's eyes darted from Cami to Flynt.

  "Cami, I checked them for weapons, but I don't think…”

  Cami raised a hand. "It's okay," she said quietly as she kept her eyes on the prisoner. Her other hand drew the pistol from her hip and held it loosely at her side. “I’m gonna ask you again. If I untie you, will you behave?"

  The man swallowed and nodded his head “Yes! Yes ma'am," he added.

  Cami nodded, and Flynt shrugged, then stepped forward and untied the prisoner.

  "Now," Cami said as the man stood before her, rubbing his wrists. "What's going on?"

  "Look...I got put on this scouting party…I didn’t want to do it, I don't want anything to do with fighting or Cisco or any of that mess, but this is the only chance I could find to get away. Billy…” he said with a visible shudder as he looked after the other prisoner. "He's hard-core for Cisco. The man's a fanatic. There’s several others like him, they're all guards over the others…”

  “Others?" Cami asked.

  "Yeah…we send out men to go find people walking around the highways. The ‘road people’ we call them. They’re refugees from the other cities around here using the interstates to move from place to place. Most are half-starved and dying of thirst by the time we find them, and they’re willing to take anybody's offer of shelter and support.

  Cisco and Jenkins—that's his number two—they make a good speech, and trick everyone into joining our camp." He shook his head. "Once there, we’re treated like slaves. Jenkins divides everybody up—you're either on a work crew, or you’re cooking food, or…” He swallowed.

  Cami shook her head. "I don't need to know the details beyond that, thank you," she said in a calm voice. "How do we know we can trust you?"

  "Look at Billy," the man said as he turned over his shoulder again. "He's an animal. Now that he knows I'm telling you, he’ll stop at nothing to kill me. Actually…he’ll probably try to drag me back to Cisco and let him kill me." He turned and dropped to his knees, then spread his hands out in front of Cami on the ground. "Please, I'll do whatever you say, I'll do whatever you want! I’ll work hard, I promise! Just don't let them send me back there!"

  Cami looked at Amber and Flynt. “Come on, stand up…I’m not the pope.”

  "Please!" the prisoner blubbered as he got to his knees, hands clasped to his face. "Keep me locked up, I don't care—anything's gotta be better than back there!"

  "Let's start with something to eat and drink. Amber? Can you check him over for injuries?"

  "I'll get him some chow," Flynt grumbled next to Cami.

  Twenty minutes later, after Cami had taken the time to reassure folks on the work crew that an attack was not imminent, and managed to harangue them back to work, she found herself in her kitchen, seated at the table with the prisoner, Flynt, and Gary.

  "Now," she said with a sigh as she lowered herself into the chair. "I've had to convince everyone out there that we’re not going to be attacked this afternoon. Was I wrong?"

  The man shook his head, picked up his fork, speared some fresh vegetables, and put them in his mouth. He chewed, then groaned in pleasure. "No…he’s not going to attack. Yet.” He swallowed. “Cisco’s building an army."

  "I knew it," Flynt said as he shook his head. “He’s rebuilding.”

  "This is amazing—we don't have anything fresh like this…” the prisoner said as he picked up a piece of squash.

  "What are they surviving on then?" Gary asked.

  The prisoner swallowed. "Anything they can steal. He's got enough people now to send out raiding parties. They go out into surrounding neighborhoods and break into houses…sometimes they even bring back prisoners.” He snorted. "New recruits, they call us. As if we volunteered.”

  Gary and Cami shared a look. "We haven't seen anybody here yet…”

  "No, you're not going to. Everybody's kind of mad and scared of this place at the same time,” he said as he gestured at Cami’s kitchen. “They tried attacking twice, and got their butts handed to them twice. But Cisco's obsessed. He's coming back. He's trying to get vengeance for his boyfriend."

  Gary raised an eyebrow. "Boyfriend? What’re you talking about?”

  "I don't know,” the prisoner admitted as he popped another piece of squash in his mouth. “It happened before they captured me out on the interstate with the others. Something about his partner," the man said, raising his fingers to indicate air quotes. "All the loyalists like Billy will hit you and remind you that Cisco doesn’t swing that way. But it's obvious. It's obvious he lost somebody very close to him, and now he's mad as hell and he's not going to stop until he gets payback."

  Cami looked at Flynt. "I have no idea what he's talking about."

  Flynt looked down at the table and clenched his massive hands into fists. "I do. He's talking about Lopez. Those two were thick as thieves the entire time they were with me." He shook his head. "When Marty killed Lopez with that big gun of his, I knew Cisco lost something important, but I didn’t know it was his sanity."

  "Wait a minute—you're not…” The prisoner looked between Flynt and Cami. “Are you Darien Flynt?"

  Flynt narrowed his eyes at the prisoner. "I am."

  "Dude! You're like…you're like the devil!" He laughed as he speared another piece of roasted vegetable. "Cisco talks about you all the time, about how evil you are and how you ruin everything and…” He laughed. "I gotta say, you're nothing like what they say you are."

  "Oh really?" Flynt asked. "And what do they say…?”

  “Look, you can talk with him later all you want,” Cami said. “We need to figure out things as they stand. You said Cisco's building an army? What's his endgame?"

  The man shrugged. "He wants to punish you guys here. He wants to come in here and take over everything, then burn this place to the ground and move on. He's obsessed. I'm telling you…not a good situation."

  "How many men does he have?" Gary asked.

  "Fighters? Maybe a dozen…one or two are added to the list every couple of days. But as far as everyone in total?" He looked at the ceiling as he chewed. "I'd say maybe 50 or 60. But you gotta remember, a lot of those are women and children."

  "Women and children?" Cami asked, aghast.

  "Sure, whole families are on the move out there as their supplies run out. Everybody's on the road and clumping together for safety in groups. When Cisco grabs ‘em, he grabs ‘em all. Most of the women and the children are assigned to the cooking and cleaning, that kind of stuff."

  Cami looked at Gary, then Flynt. "I'm open to suggestions."

  "Is it too late to say ‘I told you so’?” Gary said as he shook his head. "I knew we should've went after them as soon as we could."

  "Can we move our…friend…so we can talk for a moment?" Cami asked Flynt.

  "Rufus!" Flynt bellowed.

  The dreadlocked fighter swept into the kitchen like a force of nature and a smirk on his face. "You rang?"

  “Can you throw this guy in the redoubt and keep an eye on ‘im for a few minutes? We need to have a powwow."

  "You got it," Rufus said. "On your feet. Let's go."

  The prisoner nodded, stuffed one more piece of squash into his mouth, and stood. "Thank you," he said around a mouthful of food to Cami. "I mean that. Thank you."

  Cami raised her hand. "Okay, okay—look, we’ll talk with you in a little bit. Just hang tight."

  When Rufus led the prisoner out of the room and the three of them were alone, Cami sighed and sat back in her chair. “Well, this is a fine mess we've got ourselves into."

  "I can't believe he's building an army…what's it gonna take to make this guy leave us alone?" Gary asked.

  "Death." All eyes at the table turned to Flynt. "He won't give up. And if what our prisoner says is true…”

  “What do you think the chances of that are?” asked Cami.

  Flynt shrugged. “Think about it—if Cisco killed your husband, would you ever stop?"

  Cami looked down at the
table. "No."

  "I should've seen it…” Flynt complained to himself. “It was right there in front of me the entire time." He slammed his fist on the table. "The only way to end this is by killing Cisco."

  "Yeah? And how can we do that?" asked Gary.

  Flynt looked up at him. "I'm gonna put my gun to his head and pull the trigger."

  Gary snorted. "From your lips to God's ears," he said as he stood. “I’ll go see if I can calm everybody down out there and get them back to work. I imagine word’s spread through the neighborhood by now that Cisco's building an army of ravaging barbarians."

  Cami sighed. "You're probably right." She looked up at Gary. "That wall is more important now than ever."

  He nodded. “You won’t get any arguments from me."

  Chapter 11

  Charleston, South Carolina

  Reese gripped the shotgun tight and waited. Next to him, Alain tensed, his body held like a coiled spring. The sword he carried was angled back and away, but ready to slice up at a moment’s notice.

  “Okay, we warned you…” the bigger man said from the parking lot. “I got dibs on any old ladies.”

  “You’re sick,” the one with the higher pitched voice said as they walked forward, their boots crunching on broken glass.

  They entered the nail salon and stood motionless for a moment as their eyes adjusted. “Anyone home?”

  From the dark recesses of the back room, a muffled grunt caused the two men to sharpen their focus. “There is someone in here. I knew it!”

  Reese cursed under his breath. Whatever Jo was doing to the old man, he didn’t suffer it in silence. He glanced at Alain. “Don’t move,” he whispered.

  Alain stood and brought the gleaming katana up with him.

  Reese cursed under his breath and followed.

  "What the…?” Exclaimed the man on the right as he stared at Alain’s gleaming sword.

  Alain spoke a string of harsh words and stopped both men in their tracks. They glanced at each other, then looked at Reese. Reese raised the shotgun to his shoulder.

  “That's far enough. If you guys know what's good for you, you’ll turn around and leave—and don't come back."

  "Well, ain’t this fun?” the man with the pipe in his hand said. The one Reese aimed at kept his hands up.

  "Look, mister, we ain’t looking for trouble, we’re just scavenging for supplies, same as anyone else…”

  "Yeah, we heard about the supplies you're looking for…” Reese growled.

  Before he could say anything else, the man with the pipe flung it at Reese, then charged. Reese ducked the flying metal and raised the shotgun up to take the blow from the pipe, and the impact still made him grunt.

  Next to him, Alain roared and closed the gap between himself and his target with remarkable speed. The sword flashed through the air and in a spray of scarlet, the big man who’d flung the pipe fell back and crashed into the debris on the floor, writhing as his blood soaked the ground. Alain spun and whipped the sword down in a vicious stroke that ended the man's suffering.

  The other attacker snarled in rage and practically launched himself over the countertop at Reese. If Reese had moved a half-second slower, the man would've crashed right into him and might've wrested the shotgun away. Instead, Reese had just enough time to lower the barrel and twitch his finger. The scattergun erupted in fire and noise and kicked like a mule against Reese's shoulder. He staggered back as the attacker grunted and his forward momentum came to a sudden stop. He dropped on the other side of the front desk with a thud that seem to shake the building.

  Before Reese could even cycle the action and load another shell, Alain had his sword at the man's throat. Reese ejected the spent shell, and loaded another less than lethal round, then stepped around the desk and looked down at his target.

  The man lay on the floor and clutched at his chest with both hands, his face red and scrunched tight in a mask of pain and fury. He grunted, then coughed and caught his breath. “That hurt…” he moaned.

  Both eyes snapped open, as if he’d just remembered what had happened, and he slapped his hands against the floor in an effort to rise, then froze as the skin of his throat met the wicked sharp blade held by Alain. His eyes widened at the sight of the gleaming, red-tinted steel at his throat, then traveled up the length of the curved blade to the determined face of the girl's father.

  Alain said something quietly in his native language—Reese thought it sounded like a mishmash of French and...something else—then glanced at Reese to make sure he was okay, before he locked eyes with the man on the ground again.

  “We can't just kill him,” Reese said quietly.

  Alain looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

  "Hey, I'm serious…we can't," he said again.

  "You ain't got buckshot in that thing, anyhow…” the man on the ground said with a snicker.

  Reese lowered the shotgun until the barrel was only a few inches away from the man's forehead. "You willing to bet your life on that?"

  The bearded thug went pale and sweat broke out on his face as he lowered himself back to the floor and kept his hands spread far from his body. "Okay, okay…you made your point."

  Jo emerged from the back room with Dira and the young boy in tow.

  "I knew it…” the man on the ground muttered to himself

  “What in tarnation is going on out here?" Jo demanded.

  "Get them back," Reese said with a wince.

  "Father!" Dira said as she ran forward.

  Alain shrugged off her attention and rattled off a string of words too fast for Reese to follow. She fired back just as fast, then looked with concern at Reese. "He says we need to hurry. Your gun was louder than he’d expected.”

  "Who are you," Reese said as he jabbed the shotgun at the man on the ground. "What are you guys doing here?"

  "I could ask you the same thing. You don't look like you work in the nail salon," the man said with a smirk.

  Reese moved his finger from the trigger guard to the trigger. The subtle movement caught the man's eye and he swallowed. "Fine! We're looking for supplies…or we were…I guess it's just me now."

  "What about the two guys who went across the street?" Reese demanded.

  “Saw them, did you?" he asked with a curl of his lips. "Yeah…bet they heard that shotgun go off…probably be here soon."

  Jo moved up next to Reese and whispered in his ear. "We need to get out of here."

  "Can we?" Reese asked as his eyes shifted to the darkened doorway at the back of the building.

  Jo shrugged. "I've done all I can…it’s up to him now, but we can't stay here. I think he can travel."

  "Get ‘em ready," Reese whispered.

  "You got some more people back there, huh?” The prisoner asked. "Yeah…”

  Alain pushed the tip of his sword down just slightly—enough to touch the delicate skin under the man's jaw through the coarse beard. His whole body went rigid and his eyes shifted between Reese and the swordsman.

  “How big is your group?” Reese demanded. “Where are you coming from, and where are you going?"

  "We got more than you can handle—and we got plenty of guns with real bullets, too…” he answered with a smirk. He turned his head toward the shotgun and winced. "Gotta admit, though…that hurt…”

  "He's bleeding," Jo said with a clinical observation.

  Reese glanced at the scorched T-shirt stretched across the man's gut. A chunk of cloth was missing and he could see blood well up where the rubber projectile had impacted. "Is he gonna survive?"

  Jo nodded. “Shotgun at close range…well he wouldn’t be alive if that was a real slug. Those rubber things you got in there? I don’t think it even went in.”

  “Feels like it did…” the man in question grunted.

  “Nobody asked you,” Reese snarled.

  "Yeah, well, when my boys come looking for me…they're gonna bring the pain."

  Reese pressed the shotgun barrel between the man
's eyes. "I can bring some pain right now if you want…”

  The man on the floor closed his eyes and his lips trembled. "No. N-no that's okay…” he said quickly. "Sorry."

  "Go, get everybody out," Reese said.

  Jo turned and grabbed Dira and the child, then shooed them toward the back room.

  “We can't stay here," Reese said quietly to Alain. He glanced at Reese, then back down at their prisoner, and spat.

  "Yeah…I thought you'd say that," Reese muttered. "Okay,” he said, turning to the man on the floor, “back to you—how many men you got?"

  "More than you can handle, that's for sure. We’re collecting everybody on the road we meet. There's at least 50 or 60 of us. And they’ll be comin’ for you, brother. We take everything we want, mostly because there ain't nobody to fight back…but we’re ready to rumble if we need to,” he said as he glared at Reese. "Just you wait."

  Alain said something and pantomimed stabbing the prisoner.

  "We can't just kill him,” Reese countered.

  The prisoner’s eyes went round. “Right,” he said at Alain, “you can't do that!"

  Reese stepped back and pulled the shotgun from the man's forehead. "He might have information we could use…”

  Before he could finish his statement, Alain leaned forward and the sword neatly parted the prisoner’s throat. The man on the floor gurgled, coughed, and spit up a fountain of blood, then grabbed at his throat. Blood poured all over him as he coughed and sputtered. Red foam formed at the corners of his mouth, and his wide, panicked eyes locked on Reese’s. He kicked and thrashed on the floor as Reese jumped back.

  "What’d you do that for?" Reese yelled as he stared in horror at the man choking on his own blood at his feet.

  Alain knelt, cleaned the blade across the dying man's filthy shirt, then stood and sheathed it with a practiced flick of his wrist. He pointed out the ruined front windows with the sheathed sword/walking stick. Reese narrowed his eyes and tried to see through the glare. Across the street, up the slope toward the Walmart, two more men scrambled down the hill. Both of them carried guns.