He thrashed in the seat for a second before going limp. I held tight, making sure he had passed. I whispered in his ear, “You’ve been freed from this world.”
I slung his dead weight over the center console, then opened the back driver’s side door. I stepped out of the Blazer.
Trenton’s left leg dangled from the driver’s side of the vehicle. I pushed my door closed, then skimmed over the area. He’d parked the Blazer between a large-beige metal building and a blue shipping container.
The chain link fence ran in front of the SUV. Beyond that, wide open space blended with the ash that blanketed the grounds. I couldn’t spot any good place to stow the body, so I pushed his leg back into the vehicle and left him be.
I closed the driver’s side door and got on the move, working my way around the smaller buildings, vehicles, and crates. I followed along the sides of the structures and around the bumpers of the trucks.
Sentries patrolled the outer perimeter and inside the compound. Each one carried an automatic rifle and sidearms holstered on their hips. I counted four in total. Not much given the size of the compound.
I stooped down alongside a stack of wooden crates, then peered around the corner.
A sentry walked in my direction. I leaned away, then looked back over my shoulder. I scurried the length of the crates to the end, and found a narrow passage that ran between the wall of crates and the fence.
The sentry came into view.
I entered the tight space–slithering down to the other side with my back rubbing along the fence. The air burned my nose and lungs with each breath I took. I hit the far side, and peeked around the corner, scanning for any more men patrolling. The coast looked clear.
I ran toward the last remaining building and slipped past the far side of the structure. I maneuvered past stacks of pallets and rusted barrels, searching for a way inside.
A door popped open a few paces in front of me. I hugged the sheet metal wall and froze. I spotted a flash of movement heading outside through the tiny crack between the door and the jamb. A single target from what I could tell.
My hand closed tighter around the handle of the dagger. I secured the pistol in my waistband and stalked my prey, inching closer to the open door. I listened for multiple voices, but heard none.
A black-gloved hand grabbed the edge of the door, then pushed it closed. The guard had his back turned to me, training a blind eye to my presence.
I closed in with the dagger at the ready.
He stopped, then turned about, spotting me. He reached for the pistol on his hip. I grabbed his hand, then forced him against the wall. He shoved his hands into my chest and pushed away.
My forearm pressed against his throat as I leaned on him. He punched me in the ribs twice, then reached for the pistol. I removed my forearm from his throat, then rammed the tip of the dagger past the mask filter, hitting right under his chin.
The dagger hit flesh, then nicked the side of his jawbone. His eyes popped open as I shoved it into his skull. He reached for my arm, clawing at my jacket with frantic hands. I held firm until he went limp.
His wide frame slid across the wall and hit the ground hard. I craned my neck and looked toward the far end of the building for any additional inbound men. I peered over my shoulder. All clear.
I moved toward the door, then grabbed the handle. I pushed down, then pulled. The door opened.
A dim light lit the dark space near the rear entrance of the building. I scanned for any threats, then slipped inside. I gave one last look down the side of the building, then shut the door behind me.
Footfalls sounded close by. I clutched the dagger tighter, then moved to a dark corner ahead of me, and wedged my frame into the black space. I waited patiently, ready to strike down the inbound threat and to finish what these people started, once and for all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CORY
The back of my head throbbed. It hurt to move. My neck felt stiff—locked into place. The side of my face pressed to the cold surface of the floor, sending a chill down my spine.
“You all right?” Anna asked, standing near my head. Her voice sounded muffled, distant.
I opened my eyes. A haze coated my vision. I blinked, then moved my hands. I lifted my head from the concrete floor, then turned it.
“Damn it,” I said, grumbling through clenched teeth.
“Yeah. Looks like they tagged you pretty good.” Anna grabbed my arm and pulled.
I got to my knees, paused for a moment, then leaned against the wall. The world spun. Dizziness swelled inside my head. The inside of my mouth was dry, my lips coarse to the touch, and I felt a bit nauseated.
“Where are we?” I asked, blinking and running my tongue around my mouth. “How long have I been out?”
Anna stooped next to me, then stood up. “The McCones’s place, I think. You’ve been out for a bit. Not sure how long, though.”
My hand massaged the back of my head. A small knot had formed from where Stocky pistol whipped me. I blinked a few times, clearing the blurred vision out.
The empty room was lit with a single lantern that gave off a tiny bit of light. As far as I could tell, only Anna and myself were inside.
“Where’s Cindy?” I asked, rubbing my eyes with my forefinger and thumb.
Anna sat down against the wall near the single steel door. She crossed her legs, then leaned her head
