Read Online The Spears of Laconia (Purge of Babylon, Book 7) by Sam Sisavath - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sam Sisavath
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up.”
She started to turn back when something emerged from behind a dead horse in front of her. Gaby tensed, raising the M4. She stopped when she saw bristling brown and white hair as a cat darted across the street. Its coat of fur was singed black, and there were parts of the animal that had been burned off, exposing flaring red skin underneath.
“What the hell was that?” Nate said.
“Cat,” she said.
“Jesus, I thought it was a giant rat or something.”
Gaby looked after the animal for a moment before turning back to the horse. Or at the figure trapped underneath it…still moving.
“I got a live one!” she shouted, before jogging forward with her carbine at the ready.
The earbud in her right ear clicked, and she heard Nate’s voice: “Danny, we got survivors.”
“How many?” Danny asked through the earbud.
“Just one so far,” Nate said.
“Be careful. It could be a trap.”
“Will do.”
But it wasn’t a trap, Gaby found, when she stopped next to the horse and its rider, a woman in a North Face jacket open to reveal a black uniform underneath. There was a patch of Texas on the jacket’s right shoulder and a name tag that read “Morris.” One half of her face was covered in blood, the wetness matting short black hair to her skin, and she was busy trying to push the horse off her. Even if the dead animal were still alive to obey—there was a hole from a large caliber round in the belly of Morris’s mount—Gaby doubted the woman would have found freedom to her liking: There was a large pool of blood under her, which she might not even have noticed yet.
The soldier finally gave up and instead locked eyes with Gaby. Then she sighed and lay back, letting both hands drop to her sides. She hadn’t tried reaching for her holstered weapon, which was the only reason Gaby hadn’t shot her yet. Pieces of an M4 rifle were sprinkled liberally among what looked like the remains of a wooden toy train set.
The air around them was thick with a red, black, and white cloud coming from a nearby apartment building. Gaby was glad for the handkerchief over her mouth, something the soldier didn’t have. Then again, choking on pulverized concrete and brick was the least of the injured woman’s concerns at the moment.
“Gaby?” Nate said as he jogged over to her.
“She’s injured,” Gaby said.
Nate peered down at Morris, holding his own piece of cloth to his mouth.
“What are you looking at?” the woman said.
Nate pulled back. “She’s not going to make it.”
“Says you,” Morris said.
“I got her,” Gaby said. “Keep looking for other survivors.”
Nate nodded and walked off.
“Mohawk boy’s not wrong; I can’t move,” Morris said, turning dull brown eyes back to Gaby. She sounded surprisingly nonchalant, as if they were old friends wasting away a lazy Sunday. “I think my legs are broken. I can’t feel anything down there.”
“What happened?” Gaby asked.
Morris blinked up at her, trying to see through blood that had covered up a part of her right eye. “You don’t know?”
Gaby shook her head. “Why did it attack you?”
“I would tell you if I knew, but I don’t. Did I mention my legs are probably broken?”
Gaby nodded. She waited for the woman to continue, but Morris looked like she had lost interest in the conversation. She let her head loll to one side and stared down the street at nothing in particular. The only sound, other than Gaby’s still quickening heartbeat, was Nate’s boots moving among the ruins on the other side of the street.
“Four hundred people,” Morris said quietly.
“Four hundred?” Gaby repeated.
Morris nodded. Or tilted her head slightly up, then down, in something that resembled a nodding motion.
“Here?” Gaby said. “In this place?”
“Four hundred people,” Morris said again. Her lips quivered, as if she was going to say something else, but instead she just closed her eyes…and stopped breathing.
Gaby stared at the
She started to turn back when something emerged from behind a dead horse in front of her. Gaby tensed, raising the M4. She stopped when she saw bristling brown and white hair as a cat darted across the street. Its coat of fur was singed black, and there were parts of the animal that had been burned off, exposing flaring red skin underneath.
“What the hell was that?” Nate said.
“Cat,” she said.
“Jesus, I thought it was a giant rat or something.”
Gaby looked after the animal for a moment before turning back to the horse. Or at the figure trapped underneath it…still moving.
“I got a live one!” she shouted, before jogging forward with her carbine at the ready.
The earbud in her right ear clicked, and she heard Nate’s voice: “Danny, we got survivors.”
“How many?” Danny asked through the earbud.
“Just one so far,” Nate said.
“Be careful. It could be a trap.”
“Will do.”
But it wasn’t a trap, Gaby found, when she stopped next to the horse and its rider, a woman in a North Face jacket open to reveal a black uniform underneath. There was a patch of Texas on the jacket’s right shoulder and a name tag that read “Morris.” One half of her face was covered in blood, the wetness matting short black hair to her skin, and she was busy trying to push the horse off her. Even if the dead animal were still alive to obey—there was a hole from a large caliber round in the belly of Morris’s mount—Gaby doubted the woman would have found freedom to her liking: There was a large pool of blood under her, which she might not even have noticed yet.
The soldier finally gave up and instead locked eyes with Gaby. Then she sighed and lay back, letting both hands drop to her sides. She hadn’t tried reaching for her holstered weapon, which was the only reason Gaby hadn’t shot her yet. Pieces of an M4 rifle were sprinkled liberally among what looked like the remains of a wooden toy train set.
The air around them was thick with a red, black, and white cloud coming from a nearby apartment building. Gaby was glad for the handkerchief over her mouth, something the soldier didn’t have. Then again, choking on pulverized concrete and brick was the least of the injured woman’s concerns at the moment.
“Gaby?” Nate said as he jogged over to her.
“She’s injured,” Gaby said.
Nate peered down at Morris, holding his own piece of cloth to his mouth.
“What are you looking at?” the woman said.
Nate pulled back. “She’s not going to make it.”
“Says you,” Morris said.
“I got her,” Gaby said. “Keep looking for other survivors.”
Nate nodded and walked off.
“Mohawk boy’s not wrong; I can’t move,” Morris said, turning dull brown eyes back to Gaby. She sounded surprisingly nonchalant, as if they were old friends wasting away a lazy Sunday. “I think my legs are broken. I can’t feel anything down there.”
“What happened?” Gaby asked.
Morris blinked up at her, trying to see through blood that had covered up a part of her right eye. “You don’t know?”
Gaby shook her head. “Why did it attack you?”
“I would tell you if I knew, but I don’t. Did I mention my legs are probably broken?”
Gaby nodded. She waited for the woman to continue, but Morris looked like she had lost interest in the conversation. She let her head loll to one side and stared down the street at nothing in particular. The only sound, other than Gaby’s still quickening heartbeat, was Nate’s boots moving among the ruins on the other side of the street.
“Four hundred people,” Morris said quietly.
“Four hundred?” Gaby repeated.
Morris nodded. Or tilted her head slightly up, then down, in something that resembled a nodding motion.
“Here?” Gaby said. “In this place?”
“Four hundred people,” Morris said again. Her lips quivered, as if she was going to say something else, but instead she just closed her eyes…and stopped breathing.
Gaby stared at the
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