Afterwards, the two boys decided to go into town. Cal has some stuff he stored at his childhood home he wanted to get. Plus, Devon wanted to see where Cal grew up.
Rex clears his throat. “Mind if Devon and I stay through the winter?”
“Was hoping you would. Don’t mind having you around. It’ll be like old times.”
He snorts. “You’ll lose a fuckin’ hand if it’s like old times.”
“Eh, Devon’s coming around to me.”
After sorting through some weapons, we grab some extra ammo to bring down to the house, then put everything back in place, making sure the cache is hidden once again.
We take our time trekking back, reminiscing about times before the damn virus wiped out most of the people on the planet, talking about some of the crazy ass missions we had, some of the dumb shit we used to do.
“Wonder what those two would be doing if the world was the same, like it used to be?”
Rex stiffens. “Don’t care to think about it.”
That’s right. Devon’s dad had been some sort of monster. But Cal . . . he would’ve had a good life. Would’ve gone to college for sure.
We’re barely at the property fence when a gunshot echoes through the air, freezing me where I stand.
It’s from a good distance away, which means it’s from town.
“They take the shotgun?” Rex looks at me as we race toward the house.
“No.”
We burst through the door and into my weapons room. I grab the Barrett M82 and a Sig while Rex grabs an M4. I hand him an extra ammo clip, nodding gravely as he holsters his sidearm.
The biting wind whips at my face as we rush out of the front door, then hurry down the snow-draped gravel road. I pull my scarf up over my mouth and nose, my legs burning as we slog along the tree line.
Rex scans the area with binoculars. “Nine hostiles. All armed. Shit. Six of ‘em got Cal and Devon cornered down an alley.”
“Fuck.”
Maneuvering into position, I peer through the scope of the sniper rifle until I spot the boys. Devon’s standing between thesmall group and Cal, both boys have their knives out. Not that the blades will do much against bullets.
My jaw clenches and I fight to remain calm, to keep focused when all I want to do is run down there and slaughter every last one of the trespassers.
This ismytown, and that ismyboy they are threatening.
I maneuver the scope a bit when one of the men, who’s wearing some freaky ass tragedy theater mask that’s red with black highlights, comes into view.
He’s big.
Too big.
Could easily break the boys.
And Devon’s glaring right at the bastard.
I take slow, steady breaths, waiting for Rex to make his way closer. He’s around the corner, and no one’s spotted him yet.
He gives me the signal, coming up from the rear as I shoot, dropping two of the bastards.
The third shot, aimed at the asshole with the red mask, misses.
When Devon lunges at the fuck I abandon the M82 and bolt from my position, drawing my Sig as I sprint down the slope.
