“You killed one of ‘em,” Harry said. “That’s gotta count for something.”
Decker took in this news with a thoughtful expression on his face and crossed his arms. He stared at Reese and narrowed his eyes. “Killed one…”
Reese accepted a gloriously cold bottle of water from Semmi and took a long pull of the sweet, clean liquid. “Water never tasted so good,” he said with a heartfelt sigh.
“So, what’s his story?” a thickset man about half Decker’s size said as he approached the group.
“Lavelle, this is Detective Ray Pickering,” Decker said by way of introduction.
“He’s a gimp, LT—look at his arm. What’s he bring to the table?” Pickering said without even a nod at Reese in greeting.
“Scavengers carjacked him last night and kidnapped his friend.” Decker said. “He’s motivated.”
“He killed a Scavenger,” Harry reported to the group that gathered into the circle of light to watch the introduction.
Reese glanced around at the tired, weary eyes. Determination, grim and hard as granite, reflected back at him from dozens of faces. The Resistance was bigger than he’d first thought.
Pickering examined Reese again. “That true? You took out Charlie Mayo?”
Reese grunted. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”
A murmur went through the crowd. Decker raised his hands, and they fell silent. “Can you show us on a map where you were when they stopped you?”
Reese shrugged. “Sure.” He followed Decker to a side table and looked down on a map of Boston. It only took a few seconds to find the spot where he and Jo had stopped. He tapped it with a finger. “Right there.”
Decker and Pickering shared a look.
“What is it?” asked Reese.
“Were there any others at the kidnapping?” asked Pickering.
Reese nodded. “Yeah, a couple others.”.
“Did they mention any names?” asked Decker.
“What is this, an interrogation?”
“Of sorts—answer the question,” Decker replied evenly.
Reese looked around at all the people again and sighed. “I don’t know…yeah, I remember…Pedro…” He looked at Decker. “Sean. Sean was the leader. Big guy, hard look on his face. A real jerk.”
Decker slapped the table and looked at Pickering. “You hear that?”
Pickering nodded at Reese. “Sean Mayo is Charlie’s older brother. They’re in deep with the West End Crew.”
Reese stared at Pickering. “I’m not leaving her behind.”
Pickering watched him another long moment. “I think you’re right, LT. He’s motivated.”
“I didn’t want to kill anyone,” Reese said as he stared at the map. “I’ve never…” he swallowed. Suddenly breakfast didn’t want to stay in his stomach.
“How’d you do it?” asked Decker.
Reese drew the knife from his sling and showed them the dried blood on the blade. “I had to. We had to escape…but they caught Jo.” He sheathed the knife again. “I can’t leave her with them.”
Pickering nodded. “Fair enough. I’ve been trying to take down Charlie Mayo for almost ten years now. Slippery little weasel. And good riddance,” he added. “Okay,” he said with a clap of his hands. “Now that we’ve established you as legit, take a look at this.” He took a rolled-up map from Semmi and spread it out on the table, then used bricks to hold the corners down. “This is downtown. We’re here,” he said, “next to BUSM.”
“BUSM?” asked Reese.
“Boston University School of Medicine,” Carla offered. She tore the lid off a bottle of water and took a drink. “What? I’m a junior.” She paused, the bottle halfway to her mouth again. “Or, at least I would be…probably never graduate now.” She shrugged.
Pickering nodded and slid his finger across the rough map to a mark drawn about a mile away. “The Scavengers are holed up in the convention center. It’s huge—they got all the space they need for storing loot and prisoners. And they got plenty of both.” He traced the outline of the massive structure with a mud-crusted finger. “Guards at the exterior doors, a flow of cars and trucks bringing anything they can find in from Beacon Hill, Chinatown, and Bay Village.”
“That’s just in the week since the waves hit,” Decker muttered. “They’re gearing up to spread over all of south Boston. Drawing in new recruits every day as they grow stronger—and everyone else grows weaker and more desperate.”
Pickering nodded. “We’ve been fightin’ ‘em when we can, but without outside help, we’re gonna be cut off and overrun before long.” He pointed at the map. “Our only way out is dead south, or to the water behind us, here.”
“The noose is tightening,” Decker added.
“What about the national guard…or the state troopers?” Reese asked.
Decker laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “You have no idea how bad it is, do you?” He glanced at Semmi and Harry. “Where’d you say he was from? Maine?”
“South Carolina,” Reese said. “But I was in Maine when it hit—well, we were on a fishing trip out of Green Harbor and found ourselves on Mount Desert Island.”
Pickering whistled. “That’s a wicked long hike to the Carolinas.”
“No kidding,” agreed Reese. “That’s why I want to get my friend and get out of here.”
Pickering looked at Decker. The bigger man shrugged one shoulder. Pickering nodded, the silent communication over. “Well, help us fight the Scavengers and we’ll help you get your lady friend back.”
“She’s not—“ Reese began. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and nodded. “Thank you.”
Pickering turned and snapped his fingers at someone just out of the ring of light. “Smith, gimme the mission map, would ya? Thanks.” He took the proffered roll of paper and spread it out over the map of Boston. “This here’s the convention center.”
It was Reese’s turn to whistle. “That thing is huge.”
“No kidding,” Pickering replied with a sour note. “They know that, too. Got guards here, here, and here,” he said, as he pointed out the main entrances. “See
