Edge of Collapse Series (Book 3): Edge of Darkness, page 9
part #3 of Edge of Collapse Series Series
“You’re an accomplice. You might as well have pulled the triggers yourself.”
“No!” She shook her head frantically. Strands of dirty hair fell into her eyes. “We were set up! We were told what to do!”
He spun her around and herded her toward the door. The rantings of a mad woman. Scumbags like her would say anything to try to escape their fate. “Let’s go.”
“How do you think we got out of that crappy old jail cell you locked us up in, huh? Someone let us out!”
He froze. That got his attention. In the middle of the night, in between nightmares, it was the thought that niggled the back of his mind, which refused to let him go. “What did you say?”
“Some guy. He let us out.”
“What guy?”
She turned to face him, twitchy and on edge.
His gut tightened. “Who, Octavia, who?”
She chewed on her lower lip. Her bloodshot eyes darted about the room. “He wore a hood. It shadowed his face. He lowered his voice. He sounded familiar, though. Not a stranger.” She leered at him. “Someone you know, I bet.”
“That’s not very helpful.”
“He said the Bishops were hiding gold with all that food. Gold that would be good in an apocalypse. We could buy whatever we wanted. All the drugs and food and gas we needed to set ourselves up for life. We would be kings.” She smiled, revealing her crooked, yellowed teeth. “Queens.”
Noah stiffened. Bishop had told him a similar story. “Atticus Bishop doesn’t have money. He spends it all giving back to the community.”
Her nostrils flared. “How should we know? This guy, he let us out. He told us what to do. It wasn’t us. It was him. You gotta get him. He made us do it!”
“Pretty unbelievable story if you ask me, Octavia. No judge or jury is going to buy that.”
“It’s still true! You gotta investigate or whatever.” She lurched toward him, nearly losing her balance.
He put out a hand to steady her. The problem was, maybe he did believe it. Only he had no idea what the hell to do with that information or how to investigate it in the middle of the apocalypse.
Channing Harris, one of their new volunteer officers, had fallen asleep while serving guard duty and awakened to the antique lock jimmied open and the prisoners gone. The ancient key had also gone missing.
In the chaos after the attack, they hadn’t done much to investigate. There were no fingerprints to dust for or enter into the system, no camera footage to analyze. Even under intense interrogation, Harris insisted he’d simply fallen asleep.
Reynoso figured that one of the Carter brothers had managed to smuggle in a small knife or pocket multi-tool. Hayes had admitted that with everything going on, they’d also failed to conduct a thorough cavity search.
“You gotta help me!” she begged. “I saved your kid. I could’ve killed him, but I saved him! Billy was gonna shoot him and my daughter right there. But I didn’t let him.”
“Quinn saved my son’s life. Not your sorry butt.”
“I did!” she cried, weeping now. “It was me! I saved them both. I did that! You gotta do something! You owe me!”
The barest hint of sympathy mingled with the revulsion twisting his stomach. She’d had a mother and father who loved her and an amazing daughter in Quinn Riley. She’d thrown it all away. “It’s too late now, Octavia.”
Her restless gaze flicked past him. “Please!” she cried, her hoarse voice breaking. “Please, help me!”
Sutter stalked into the room. He took her in with a single look and shook his head in disgust. He flipped his rifle in his hands and cracked the butt against her temple.
Octavia crumpled without a sound and fell sideways onto the mattress, unconscious.
17
Noah
Day Ten
“What’d you do that for?” Noah asked, alarmed. “She was already subdued. She—”
Sutter glared at Noah. “She was irritating me. I could hear her screechy voice from the kitchen.”
Noah stared down at her prone form, his brow furrowed. “There was no need for it.”
“Need for it?” Sutter scoffed. “What’s wrong with you? Your whole town is begging for these monsters’ heads on spikes. And we’re going to give it to them.”
Sutter kicked at Octavia with the toe of his boot. Not savagely, but like he was kicking at a piece of trash or roadkill, something revolting he wanted to dispose of as soon as possible.
Noah gritted his teeth. “You don’t have to do that.”
Sutter shrugged. “What was she going on about? The damn woman wouldn’t shut up.”
“She said someone let them out. There’s an accomplice out there.”
“She’s high and insane. They all are. They’ll say anything if they think it’ll save them. But that time is gone. There are no lawyers here.”
“Only for now,” Noah said. “Even if this grid-down situation lasts months or even years, things will eventually go back to normal. We can’t just do anything we want.”
Sutter only grinned. “Says who?”
For a second Noah didn’t say anything, too taken aback to respond.
Things were changing too fast. He didn’t like it, didn’t like the unease slicking his insides.
“Superintendent Sinclair—” Noah started.
“The superintendent authorized us to do whatever we saw fit to end this and protect the town. That’s exactly what we’re doing.”
“We still need to do things by the book where possible—”
Sutter just laughed. “There is no book. We burned the book.”
“We’re still responsible for doing the right thing. We’re still the law.”
“Wake up, man!” Sutter said. “That’s all over with. No pencil-pusher from the government is gonna analyze everything you did here from the safety of his fancy desk, looking to find fault in the actions of brave soldiers going into battle. The government is falling apart as we speak. Society is collapsing like the house of cards it always was.”
Sutter was enjoying this. He and his men, and people like him, had been waiting for something like this to happen for years. Wanting it to happen. So they could be the ones in control. So they could have the power.
“Have you seen the cities? Even traveled outside this little enclave?” He snorted in derision as Noah shook his head. “It took less than a week. It’s chaos. Every man for himself. Warlord wannabes and gang warzones battling over the FEMA and Red Cross aid supplies they’re stealing because there aren’t enough military personnel to protect regular people.
“We have two choices. Give in like meek little girls, and die at the hands of human waste like this, or we take the power ourselves. Your government bosses are gone. You heard from them? From anyone? They’ve abandoned you. The longer you believe in them, the weaker you are.”
Noah couldn’t argue with him. He’d ventured outside of Fall Creek to retrieve the bodies at the ski resort, but he’d avoided every town and city. He hadn’t seen the state of things outside Fall Creek with his own eyes.
Even so, he’d seen plenty. More than he wanted in an entire lifetime.
“I hear you,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we throw everything out the window and become warlords ourselves.”
“Of course not. We’re all men of reason here. We’ll do a far better job than the P.O.S. governor ever did. You’ll see.”
This guy thought he was in charge. It radiated off him. The sense of power and authority. The arrogance.
Like Noah and the other police officers were the subordinates in this equation.
Noah’s gaze slipped to the AK-47 in Sutter’s hands. He’d heard Sutter tell Rosamond they had years’ worth of ammunition stored. And plenty of high-powered weapons.
He was supposed to trust these guys with the safety of the town.
Trust me, Rosamond had asked of him. He did trust her. Rosamond was smart. She cared for this town, for him. She’d never let him down before. And yet . . .
Sebastian Desoto strode into the room. His rifle was slung across his chest. He carried a thick coil of rope. Noah didn’t know if they’d brought it or found it here. It didn’t really matter.
Sutter’s pale eyes darkened. There was something disconcerting in the way he stared at Noah without blinking. “They’re animals. Human waste. There’s only one thing left for them.”
“What are you doing?” Noah had that feeling again, that oily unease sliding beneath his skin. “What’s that for?”
Desoto dropped it on top of Octavia’s unconscious body. He smiled. His wide, white teeth shone in the morning light streaming through the window. “Justice.”
Before Noah could ask him exactly what he planned to do with that rope, Julian entered the bedroom behind Desoto.
“Speaking of justice.” He shifted his rifle to his left hand and hooked his thumb behind him. “I’ve got something for you, brother.”
Noah glanced warily from Octavia to Julian. “What?”
“You’ll just have to come and see.” Julian grinned eagerly. For an instant, he looked like the Julian Sinclair Noah had known before the EMP—charismatic and convivial, confident and handsome with his short blond hair, even features, and that charming smile.
Lately, he’d been tense and on edge, his expression drawn, his eyes haunted. He’d probably lost at least five pounds, maybe more.
But then, hadn’t most people changed? And not everyone for the better.
“Come on,” Julian said, cajoling. “Trust me.”
Noah turned to Sutter. “Don’t hurt her.”
Sutter grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Noah followed Julian out of the trailer, down a trampled path through the snow to the singlewide closest to the river. It was even filthier, if that were possible. Bags of trash littered the place.
The rancid stink of human excrement mingling with the ammonia smell of urine burned his nostrils. He covered his nose and mouth with the collar of his coat and coughed, eyes watering. “How do people live like this?”
“Tell me about it.” Samantha Perez stood guard at the door. She’d pulled her sweater up over her mouth and nose. She dropped it when they came in. “Sorry, I’m just feeling a bit lightheaded.”
“It’s a miracle you haven’t passed out from the stench,” Noah said.
Samantha—or Sam, as everyone called her—tucked her chin-length black hair behind one ear. “And I thought my nephew’s diapers were bad. Ugh.”
Full-figured and curvy, Sam was also incredibly strong. She’d built her broad shoulders and muscled arms at the gym. After a decade with the National Guard, she knew her way around a gun.
A part-time officer before the EMP, she’d really stepped up in the last week. She was tough and dependable. Even funny, if you got her in the right mood.
Julian angled his chin at her. “Give us a minute.”
Her gaze flickered from Julian to Noah, hesitating. “You sure?”
“We’re good,” Julian said. “We’ll take care of this. You’re relieved of S.O.L duty.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Sam practically threw herself through the front door. “Good luck!”
After she was gone and the trailer was silent, Julian moved further into the living room. Noah followed him. Julian pointed without a word.
Billy Carter knelt in the center of the stained, trashed carpet.
18
Noah
Day Ten
Billy’s hands were zip-tied behind his back. His face was a mess, his lip split, his right eye already swollen and purple.
Blood leaked from a bullet wound in his left thigh above his knee. More blood dribbled from a cut on his forehead and his mouth.
“Here.” Julian’s voice was raw. His eyes were bright and glassy, almost feverish. “This is him. He’s the one.”
Billy glared up at them, one eye wandering off to the left. He spat a bloody tooth onto the carpet at their feet.
Noah leaned his rifle against the wall. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
It all came back in a rush. What Quinn had told him. That it was Billy who took Bishop’s little girls from the supply room in the church.
Billy Carter. Child-murderer.
Revulsion filled him. “You killed Juniper and Chloe Bishop.”
Billy gave them a leering smile. His teeth were bloody. His missing tooth left a gaping hole. “Where’s my lawyer?”
Noah took two long strides and punched Billy in the face.
He hadn’t even known he was going to do it. He’d never hit anyone in his life, not even the low-life criminals he arrested and tossed into jail.
Billy’s head rocked back from the blow. He nearly fell over backward but managed to regain his equilibrium. “That’s police brutality!”
“I’ll show you police brutality, you cockroach,” Julian spat. “Who are you going to tell, hmm?” He spread his arms wide. “There’s no one here.”
Billy glowered at them. His lazy eye gave him a bizarre, crazed look. His entire face was swollen and bruised purple. The bridge of his nose was crooked, blood gushing from his nostrils.
The terrible memories from that night seared Noah’s brain—the blinding fear, the nerve-shredding panic, the dread like a sinking stone in his gut, the sickening despair as he entered the sanctuary, bore witness to the bodies.
How terrified and utterly helpless he’d felt. He wasn’t helpless now.
“You murdered little kids,” Noah forced out through clenched teeth. “You killed my friend’s family.”
Billy cursed and spat more blood. “You broke my nose.”
“You killed them. It was you.”
For a long moment, Billy said nothing. Noah thought he would deny it, claim his innocence like every other guilty-as-hell criminal.
“I did it.” Billy lifted his head and met Noah’s gaze with his single good eye. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his deformed face. “That what you want to hear? I did them all. The wife. The girls. You want to hear how they cried? How Bishop begged us to kill him instead? How they looked—”
Noah punched him again. Smashed his fist into Billy’s face. His knuckles stung. Pain drummed up his arm from the impact. Blood splattered his gloved hand.
He stood back. His arms fell to his sides.
Julian’s mouth thinned. His expression went flat and stony. “Shoot him.”
Noah went still.
“Do it!”
Billy’s oily black eyes were red with burst blood vessels. He smiled through the blood caking his face, his voice slurring. “I enjoyed it. That what you want me to say? I enjoyed every damn second of it.”
Noah trembled with anger and hatred. He loathed Billy Carter with every fiber of his being. Every second he breathed the oxygen that Bishop’s girls never would filled him with an unbearable fury.
“Don’t you want vengeance?” Julian hissed. “I sent Perez away for this. For you. Look, after Crossway, no one will bat an eyelash. No one will ask any questions. As far as anyone is concerned, this scumbag is just another casualty of that first barrage of defensive fire. Perez won’t care. We were defending ourselves. It’s good. This is all good. Iron-clad.”
Noah licked his chapped lips, shook his head. He could barely think through the red haze of anger, his pulse pounding in his skull.
Julian drew his service weapon and placed it in Noah’s hand. He closed his own hands around Noah’s, his expression hardened. “You do what you need to do. For Milo. For Bishop’s family. Don’t worry about anything else. I’ve got your back. I’ve always got your back.”
Noah wanted him dead. He was a maggot. A monster. The worst of humanity. He deserved to die. He deserved to die a terrible, painful, agonizing death.
And yet. Noah was still a cop. His sense of justice, of order and rules and law—it hadn’t disappeared. He was who he was.
Something inside him deflated. He lowered his arm. Shook his head.
Without a word, Julian took the gun.
“I knew it,” Billy crowed. “Too much of a pu—”
Julian raised the gun, pointed it at him, sighted his purple swollen eye.
Billy’s arrogant face blanched. He tried to clamber to his feet, but with his hands and feet zip-tied, he was helpless.
Helpless before Julian’s gun.
You should stop him, a voice whispered in the back of Noah’s mind.
He didn’t. He stood frozen, like somehow time had stopped and he was helpless to change or alter the events unfolding before his eyes.
He didn’t move. He didn’t say a word.
Julian squeezed the trigger.
Crack! The sound of the gunshot exploded against his eardrums.
Billy jerked. Blood sprayed. The center of his face seemed to cave in. Almost in slow motion, he toppled sideways to the floor. A stunned expression frozen on his brutalized features.
Noah stared, blinking rapidly. A distant buzzing filled his head.
Rattled, he took a step back. Inhaled sharply to steady himself.
Julian wiped the gun on his shirt and holstered it. He spat on Billy’s body. “One less scumbag in the world.”
Noah swallowed. “You killed him.”
“We killed him.” Julian’s expression softened. He was calm now, placid. He rested a sympathetic hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Sutter was going to do it anyway. This monster deserved a special brand of justice.”
Noah shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around it. He stared down at Billy Carter’s mangled face until his eyes stung.
This didn’t feel like justice. Everything about it felt wrong.
Noah believed in the law. He believed in order and consequences. A higher authority to answer to.
Julian and Sutter believed that the only authority they answered to now was themselves.
And Julian . . . how easily he’d just killed a man. Intentionally. On purpose, not in the heat of the moment, like back in the church.
