The Gates of Byzantium

CHAPTER 8 WILL

The sign read: “Welcome to Lancing, Texas. Pop. 12, 077.”

Will had been hoping Lancing would be a smaller city and wasn’t prepared for one with over 12,000 people in it. A city built for that kind of population meant a sprawling residential base and businesses spread out into multiple main areas.

They entered Lancing from the north end along US 287. At first there was just massive farmland to one side and sprinkles of old homes on the other. Soon, businesses appeared, then huge residential subdivisions with hundreds of newly built homes. Lancing was a growing community, and getting bigger every year.

Or it used to be, anyway.

Will’s radio squawked and he heard Danny’s voice: “It’s not going to be easy finding someone in this place.”

“Like a needle in a haystack?” Will said.

“Sure, if you wanna get cliché about it.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

Blaine was moving around in the back seat, a bundle of energy despite his wounds. He didn’t blame the big man. If it were Lara out there…

“Where’s the main business district?” Will asked Lara.

She scanned the map in her lap. After a moment, she pointed up ahead. “Main Street runs parallel to the road we’re on now. There should be another road coming up — West Chance Road. Turn left onto it and it should take us to Main Street.”

Will slowed down, then turned left onto West Chance Road. Danny followed closely behind in the blue Ranger, his turn signal blinking. Will smiled.

“Anyone looking for supplies will make the business district their base of operations and work from there,” Will said. “If these guys aren’t complete idiots, that’s probably where they’ll be.”

It was about three kilometers to Main Street. During the ride, Will could hear Blaine moving around in the back seat, peering out at every vehicle parked in the road, on the sidewalk and in driveways on both sides of the street.

Chance Road was mostly residential until they neared Main Street, so they drove past a slew of quiet homes with grass that had risen as tall as windows in some spots and gardens overgrown with weeds. Finally, small businesses began popping up around them, unmowed lawns giving way to debris-strewn concrete and sun-baked parking lots that were slowly changing color.

Will slowed down before coming to a complete stop at a big four-lane intersection, with Main Street running across West Chance Road. There was a Chevron gas station on the corner to their right, with competition in the form of a Shell to their left. The road itself was relatively clear of obstructions, with only a couple of vehicles parked haphazardly in the middle of the streets. A blue Honda had nosedived into a Wallbys Pharmacy store sign on the other side of Main Street. The sign remained standing, but the Honda no longer had much of a front end.

There was some kind of official city building across the street, with three flagpoles — one with the American flag and the other two hoisting the Texas state flag. The flags were moving with the wind, the metal latches banging loudly against steel poles. Farther up the road, he could make out more city buildings, including a courthouse and what looked like a public library.

His radio squawked and Danny’s voice came through: “What’s the plan, Kemosabe? We just going to sit here with our thumbs up our butts?”

“There are a couple of options,” Will said. “We could drive around, make a lot of noise, and hope someone hears us. Maybe it’ll even be Folger, in which case, well, we’d need to get his attention anyway.”

“What’s the second option?” Lara asked.

“Find a base of operations and do what we usually do. Look for supplies, survivors, and hope we find some clue to where Folger and the rest went. Chances are they came through here, but how long they stayed is the question. Or maybe they left earlier this morning, but I don’t think so. Lancing looks like it could be a decent haul in terms of supplies. I don’t think anyone moving between towns will be in too much of a hurry to abandon it.”

“There’s a Dairy Queen to our right,” Danny said through the radio. “I could go for some ice cream Blizzards about now. How about you guys?”

“You’re assuming anything you find will still be edible.”

“As the designated Captain Optimism, it’s my job to think positively.”

“I assumed as much.”

Will hadn’t gotten “much” out when he heard the very distinctive crack! of a rifle splitting the air. He twisted in his seat and looked back, past Blaine and out the rear windshield at the blue Ranger parked about two meters behind him. Danny was opening his door and hopping out with his M4A1.

He heard Danny’s voice, calm, through the radio: “Rifle just took out my rear windshield. Girls are on the floor.”

Another shot rang out and Will saw one of the back windows on Danny’s Ranger shatter. He might have also heard screams, but he couldn’t be sure because at the very same moment a third shot pierced the air and Will heard the ping! of the bullet punching through the blue Ranger’s passenger side.

Danny’s voice, through the radio: “Water tower at ten o’clock. About 150 meters.”

They heard the M4A1 firing back. Three shots. Will knew Danny wasn’t trying to hit anything. He couldn’t have hit anything over that distance, anyway. The three shots were to let the shooter know his location had been compromised. A sniper who was taking fire didn’t feel quite as free to linger with his aim.

Will grabbed his M4A1 and was reaching for his door when he heard gunfire — not from behind him this time, but from in front of him.

He threw himself into the door and dived out just as his Ranger’s windshield spiderwebbed and three bullets pierced the glass. One bullet punched through the middle of the driver’s seat and the other two went astray, but by then the second shooter was firing again, more bullets ricocheting off the hood of the Ranger, one taking out a headlight.

Will was already outside and positioned behind the open door. He looked across the street, following the trajectory of the shots, and caught sunlight reflecting off metal from the rooftop of the Wallbys, about seventy meters away and slightly to his left. He instantly fired three shots in that direction, knowing he wasn’t going to hit anything, but the shots served their purpose by sending the shooter scrambling for cover.

He glanced back into the Ranger at Lara, on the floor of the front passenger seat, looking back at him. She looked scared, but fine. Will looked into the back at Blaine with his sawed-off shotgun, crouched behind the front seat, looking back at him.

“You’re safer in there,” Will said to them.

“What if they shoot the gas tank?” Blaine asked.

“Then we’ll need to find a new car.”

Shooting a car’s gas tank put a hole in it and the gas leaked out. That was it. The car didn’t explode or catch fire like in the movies unless the bullets were incendiary rounds, which were rare — or if the shooters were using tracers, which was pointless in daylight.

He heard the sniper at the water tower fire at Danny’s Ranger again. Will didn’t have to look back to know Danny was in a good position not to get shot. At the same time, the shooter on the Wallbys rooftop found renewed courage and began pelting the street around Will, sometimes hitting the Ranger’s open door with a lucky shot. Will hadn’t fired back since those first three rounds, and neither had Danny.

Will keyed his radio: “How are the girls?”

“Girls are safe,” Danny said.

“Can you get the guy in the water tower?”

“I can’t even see him. What about your guy?”

“Wallbys rooftop across the street. I’ll need a M79 grenade launcher to hit this guy. Maybe a nuke might work, too.”

“How about a distraction?”

“You game?”

“I’ll do it,” Blaine said.

Will looked back at the big man, saw his eyes, the clenched teeth, and knew right away that an argument wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Will said instead, “You have to be fast.”

“I’ll be fast.”

“All right. Call it.”

Blaine nodded and positioned himself against his door. He gripped the handle and waited, then counted down silently before he said, “Now!” and opened the door and lunged out, racing across the road toward the Shell on the other side.

Almost instantly, bullets started flying around Blaine, peppering the street and kicking up asphalt around him. Blaine kept his head low, arms thrown over his head, the sawed-off shotgun in one hand. He was running so fast Will didn’t know if that was pure natural speed or if it was adrenaline, or maybe it was the very real fear that if he slowed down even for a split second he would die. Probably all three.

Will saw the shooter on the Wallbys make his first mistake. The man stood up on the rooftop to get a better shot at Blaine. Will peered through the red dot sight mounted on his rifle. At seventy meters, the sniper was more of a lump of black twig than an actual figure, but at least he could see the guy this time.

The shooter was concentrating on Blaine, firing round after round after him.

Will fired. He knew he had missed as soon as he squeezed the trigger. The bullet went low and struck the wall about a meter from the edge of the rooftop, directly below the shooter. The man reacted, taking his focus completely off Blaine and turning slightly, lifting his rifle to shoot in Will’s direction.

Will pushed the red dot higher, compensated for the distance, and fired again.

His second shot hit the man in the chest and the dark silhouette seemed to stagger for a moment before dropping down to the rooftop.

“One down,” Will said into the radio.

“You’re my hero,” Danny said.

“I never doubted it.”

He glanced across the road at Blaine, peering out from behind the small white building that housed the Shell. Will gave him the “A-okay” sign and saw Blaine acknowledge with one of his own, bending over at the waist to catch his breath.

“What about the water tower?” Will said into the radio.

“Still can’t see the bugger,” Danny said. “Haven’t heard from him in a while, though.”

“You think he bugged out?”

“He’s a bugger. They do tend to bug.”

Will stayed behind cover, peering out occasionally across the street, expecting someone to either replace the shooter on the Wallbys rooftop or appear somewhere else to take his chances. The only positive he could see was that besides the water tower behind them and the Wallbys in front, there weren’t a lot of other high places for a sniper to shoot from.

He looked back into the truck at Lara. She was still crouched on the floor in front of her seat, picking broken glass out of her hair. He smiled at the sight.

“Shut up,” she said, but smiled back. Then he saw her frown. “You’re bleeding.”

Will hadn’t realized it, but a piece of flying glass had cut his cheek. It wasn’t much, just a miniscule trickle of blood. He wiped at it with the back of one hand. “Just a scratch. Are you okay?”

She nodded back. “In one piece. What about Blaine?”

Will looked over in Blaine’s direction again. The big man was still behind the Shell, looking back at him before turning his attention up the street. Like Will and Danny, he was waiting for something to happen, for someone else to take a shot.

“He’s alive,” Will said.

“I should take a look at his wounds,” Lara said. “He must have torn open some stitches running that fast.”

“Later.”

Will heard a faint buzzing sound, and he thought, Dirt bike.

The buzzing got louder just before the dirt bike appeared in the road about 120 meters behind them, coming out of a concrete parking lot. It turned left and took off in the opposite direction. There was only one rider that Will could see.

“Bugger’s got a motorcycle,” Danny said through the radio.

“What do you wanna do?” Will asked.

“He shot my truck. No one shoots my truck. I love this truck.”

“I’ll watch the girls,” Will said.

He jogged toward the blue Ranger as Danny was helping Carly and the girls out of it. The vehicle looked like it had been through a war zone. There were a couple of bullet holes in the front windshield, but it was still in one piece. Carly and the girls looked as if they were in shock, but were otherwise okay. Danny climbed back into the Ranger, turned on the engine, and reversed, spinning the truck around and taking off after the motorcycle.

Will motioned Blaine over. Blaine glanced up and down the street, just to be sure, before jogging back. This time he was moving noticeably slower and holding on to his right side.

“Lara,” Will said. “Blaine needs your help.”

Lara hurried out of the truck, looked around to be sure no one was shooting at her, then rushed over to meet Blaine halfway. He almost fell into her arms. She grabbed him, but his weight pulled her down to the road with him. Will ran over to help, and together with Lara, he carried Blaine back to the Ranger.

“His wounds are open again,” Lara said between labored breaths. “God, he’s a lot heavier than he looks.”

Blaine’s face was covered in sweat and his eyes were rolling in their sockets.

“He’s going to pass out,” Will said, just before Blaine passed out.

The shooters’ base of operations was just past the intersection and across the street from the Wallbys. There was a group of city buildings there, including the public library, which was the big building he had glimpsed earlier. Next to it was the city’s police department, which also doubled as a courthouse. Lancing’s city hall was next door, though it looked remarkably small for a city of 12,000 people.

He saw the tracks of three vehicles that had recently called the parking lot home, including the multiple tire marks of a big rig pulling a semitrailer. The shooters were clearly part of Folger’s contingent, the same group that had shot Blaine and taken Sandra. The pools of leaked engine oil and air coolant still gathering in the parking lot told him Folger’s group hadn’t left the area all that long ago. Less than an hour, give or take.

They’re still here somewhere.

Up on the Wallbys rooftop, Will found a short man in military fatigues lying next to an AR-15 rifle, along with a pouch full of magazines. A cheap pair of binoculars and a Motorola radio were scattered nearby. Will collected the rifle and magazines, then searched the dead man. He found a wallet in the back pocket, which made him chuckle. Will hadn’t bothered with a wallet since the morning of The Purge.

Inside the dead man’s wallet, Will pulled out a Texas driver’s license that identified the owner as Hiller, thirty-four, from Fort Worth. Will tossed the wallet and climbed back down the rooftop.

He kept in touch with Danny throughout the hour. The radios were still working fine, even though Danny was getting farther and farther away. After about half an hour of silence, Danny’s voice finally came through the radio again: “On my way back now.”

“How did it go?”

“He’s alive.”

“Blaine will appreciate that. What about the bike?”

“Ugh, not so much.”

“One out of two ain’t bad.”

“What I said.”

Will jogged across the street, back toward the Lancing courthouse building. Carly came out of the door with a shotgun.

“You heard?” he asked. They all carried radios, except for the girls and Blaine. It was the easiest way to keep in contact when they were on the road.

She nodded. “He’s on his way back.”

The others were inside the courthouse’s reception area. Blaine sat on an uncomfortable-looking bench, his bloodied shirt on the seat next to him. Earlier, Will had cleared out the building by himself with a shotgun loaded with silver buckshot. There were a half-dozen empty jail cells in the back, along with offices that hadn’t been used in a while. The courthouse was really one big building with a couple of offices along the sides.

They had spread out the portable fans along the floors and on the reception desk to cover as much of the room as possible. The heat was still suffocating, even with the windows and front door open. They drank every half hour just to keep dehydration at bay.

Elise and Vera had settled into some chairs in front of a fan and were drawing stick figures on the wall with markers as their long hair blew around them like confetti. They looked like they had gotten through the shoot-out just fine, which both worried and amazed him. Then again, maybe being shot at by a bunch of men was nothing compared to what they had seen and lived through in the last eight months. This, he thought, almost amused, probably didn’t rate very high in terms of nightmare potential.

“You were pretty fast out there,” he said to Blaine.

Lara had re-stitched Blaine’s side and left thigh. Blaine told them he had busted both sets of stitches about halfway across the street while the sniper was shooting at him.

“It felt like I was running in quicksand,” Blaine said.

Will leaned the AR-15 against the lobby desk and tossed the pouch of ammo on the floor. “Danny’s coming back with the other shooter.”

“He actually caught that asshole?” Blaine asked.

“It’s a dirt bike. You’re not going to outrun a Ford Ranger with 200 cc’s.”

“So he’s still alive,” Blaine said. It wasn’t a question.

“For now,” Will nodded.

Lara came out of a hallway in the back. She was wiping her hands with a white rag. Or it used to be white; it was now slightly pink from Blaine’s blood. “Danny?” she asked.

“He’s on his way back with a prisoner.”

“Was it them? The ones that took Sandra?”

“It was them,” Blaine said. He stood up and instantly grimaced with pain. “We should keep going, press them while we still can.”

“We don’t know if they’ve even left the city,” Will said. “They could still be out there. There are about a dozen residential subdivisions they could be hiding in at this very moment. It wouldn’t make sense for them to just leave their friends behind.”

“Maybe they’re not that tight…”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Will said.

Danny’s prisoner looked like he had seen better days. Any day, in fact, was probably better than today. Danny had the guy trussed up like a hog in the back of the Ford Ranger, the man’s wrists and legs bound by unbreakable zip ties. He was bleeding from a nasty gash in his right cheek, and one eye was covered by a massive bruise. He had a dark complexion, and Will guessed Mexican-American.

“Jesus, Danny,” Will said, when he saw the guy lying in the back of the Ranger.

“That wasn’t me,” Danny said. “He sort of flew off the bike.”

“How did he do that?”

“I tapped him lightly in the back with the Ranger. Lightly. It’s not my fault he couldn’t fly.”

The guy was alive and alert, though he had the look of a wounded animal, dark eyes darting left and right, from face to face, as if he expected to eat a bullet any second. Maybe he wasn’t very far off, Will thought, as they dragged the guy up from the truck bed and lifted him down to the parking lot to stand on his own two feet.

“He had a radio on him,” Danny said. “Unfortunately, it didn’t survive his flight.”

“The one on the Wallbys rooftop had one, too,” Will said. “Rifle?”

“Rest in pieces.”

“Jesus, Danny, remind me never to send you to fetch anything that I don’t want smashed to smithereens.”

“Quit yer naggin’.”

Blaine came out of the courthouse behind them. He had put on a new shirt and was still wincing with every step, but Will knew there was no way in hell he was going to be able to talk the guy out of this, so he didn’t even bother.

“Seen him before?” Will asked Blaine, turning the prisoner slightly so Blaine could see his face.

Blaine shook his head. “Maybe, I don’t know. I only saw Folger up close. The rest were a blur during the firefight.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Danny said. “This guy can’t wait to tell us everything he knows.” Danny pulled the prisoner closer to him and smiled. “Right?”

Not that it took very much to get the man talking.

They sat the prisoner, whose name was Miguel, on the lowered gate of the blue Ranger and handed him a bottle of water after they cut off the zip ties. He was in no shape to fight back, not that he had much fight left in him. Miguel had acquiesced to his situation, both in spirit and body. The man just wanted it to be over.

“Where are your friends?” Will asked.

“Hiding,” Miguel said. “Probably, I don’t know. They were supposed to help Hiller and me, but they never showed. They kept promising they would over the radio, but they never came. Then you guys killed Hiller, and I bailed.”

“How did you know we killed Hiller?”

“He didn’t answer his radio and he stopped shooting. I figured he was dead. I told Folger the same thing on the radio.”

“Folger is the boss?”

“Hardly.” Miguel took another sip of water. “He wants to be the boss, but no one respects him.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Six. Well, there used to be six. You killed Hiller. So there’s three of them now. Plus me, but I guess you don’t count me anymore.”

“I guess not. Name them.”

“There’s Folger, Del, and Manley.”

“Six minus two is four, genius,” Danny said. “Or didn’t they teach you to count in bad guy school?”

“There was four,” Miguel said. “Betts got killed last night.”

“What happened?”

“We had some prisoners, but they escaped. Tricked Betts somehow, then stabbed the shit out of him in the back of the neck with a key, if you can believe it. He was dead when we found him.”

Will looked over at Blaine, who had perked up. “The woman who was with me,” Blaine said. “You caught her.”

“Yeah,” Miguel said, but he wisely shied away from looking Blaine in the eyes. “She escaped with the others.”

“How many others?” Will asked.

“Two. Some kids we found in town when we first got here. There was a third kid, but he had turned, so we locked the basement door where he was hiding so he couldn’t get out.”

“How old are we talking about? These kids?” Danny asked.

“Teenagers,” Miguel said. “I don’t know how old. Sixteen or seventeen maybe.” He drained the bottle of water and tossed it away, watched it bounce around the parking lot for a moment. “Got any more of that?”

“Man’s going to drink us dry,” Danny said, and handed Miguel another warm bottle.

Miguel opened the bottle and drank down half of it one gulp.

“The radio,” Will said. “What frequency are they monitoring?”

Miguel told them.

Danny unclipped his radio from his vest and turned the frequency dial, then put the radio down on the open tail gate. They listened for a moment, but there was only static.

Miguel seemed to have expected that. He smirked. “Assholes. I knew they would leave me.”

“You’re saying they’re gone?” Will asked.

“I figured. Or they’d be here by now, wouldn’t they?”

“Maybe,” Will said, unconvinced.

“Not BFFs, I take it,” Danny said.

“Not in this lifetime,” Miguel said, almost spitting the words out. “I only fell in with them because there was no one else. I mean, after everything happened, strength in numbers, you know? And Folger had all these guns. Who the hell knows where he got them. He was an asshole and everything, but he seemed to know some stuff that got us through the early days.”

“How long ago did Sandra and these kids escape?” Blaine asked.

“Like I said, last night.”

“Did you find them?”

“No. They must have been hiding. There are thousands of houses in this place. It’s impossible to search every one of them. Plus you never know where those bloodsuckers could be hiding. They’re fucking everywhere.”

“What’s with the big rig?” Danny asked.

“What?” Miguel said, as if he hadn’t heard the question right.

“The big rig,” Danny repeated. “Blaine says you guys had a big rig with you. It’s gotta guzzle diesel like crazy, so why bother with one? For storing supplies?”

“That’s partially it, but mostly it’s to keep the monsters out.”

“How?” Will asked.

“What, how does it keep the monsters out?” Miguel asked. “Have you seen those semitrailers? You can’t tear into those things. They’re like a moving safe.”

Will and Danny exchanged a look. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

“We didn’t see a semitrailer when we got here,” Will said.

“Folger moved it,” Miguel said. “After last night, I guess he was afraid the kids would come back and try to steal it or something. Stupid, right? They’re not coming back. Why the fuck would they? But Folger is paranoid like that.”

“How did you know we were coming? You had that ambush set up pretty fast.”

“I was on the water tower, looking for those kids. You know, to get a better lay of the land. Sound travels nowadays. I heard you coming from the highway. Called Folger on the radio and he came up with the bright idea to set up an ambush.”

“What happened to Folger?”

“That dick. He took off with Del and Manley before you showed up, told me and Hiller they were going to circle around and attack you from behind. That was his master plan, anyway. I don’t know what happened. Every time I radioed him, he always said he was circling around, that we should keep you occupied. Then you fucking killed Hiller and I guess they chickened out and split. Who the hell knows. He wouldn’t answer the radio after I told them Hiller was probably dead.” Miguel shrugged, and his shoulders seemed to droop lower than before, if that was even possible. “So, you going to shoot me now or what?”

Miguel looked at Will, then at Danny, and finally, for the first time, at Blaine.

“I’m not going to beg for my life,” Miguel said. “Hell, I survived eight months when the rest of the world died. I think I got a pretty sweet deal.” He managed a grin. “So go ahead. Get it over with. Just make sure I’m not the last one. That’s why I’m telling you all of this, you know. So you can get Folger and Del and Manley, too, the cowardly fucks.”

“You sure they left town?” Will asked.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if they all split and went their own ways. Manley, in particular. He never really liked Folger and Del. Plus, he’s the only one who can drive the big rig. If I was him, I’d take off with it. Get to keep all the supplies inside, too.”

“All right, I guess we’re done,” Will said, and looked over at Blaine. “It’s up to you. You decide what we should do with him.”

Blaine only had eyes for Miguel. “Sandra. When you caught her last night. Did you…do anything to her?”

Miguel looked back at the big man, with an expression that Will thought was sadness, and something that almost approached (but not quite) regret. “I didn’t. But I wanted to. I’ll be straight with you. Man to man. I wanted to, but Del caught her, so he got her first. We were supposed to get her later last night, but like I said, she escaped with the kids first.”

“Okay,” Blaine said.

“Take him into the woods,” Will said.