All Is Silence - Deserted Lands #1

Chapter 33 - Part II

For a moment Spike stopped, staring back at Lizzie, his eyes fathomless.

He made the signs Charley had taught him. "Run." Spike gestured to himself then toward the dogs. "I run." Then he signed to Lizzie, "You hide." He turned and shuffled toward the dogs, hunkering down and growling at them. The dogs milled around, confused by the big man who did not act like a human.

Lizzie glanced back up the hill. Duke and Zach waved at her to run. Independents with guns were moving down the slope.

"Lizzie." Her father's urgent voice demanded her attention.

She couldn't tear her eyes away, even as he tugged her backward toward the tree line. Her eyes locked on Spike as the first dog lunged, then the pack followed, snarling and tearing. He had been the first person she had seen alive after everything went to hell. And now he was giving up that life for her.

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Lights flashed across the snow and the rumble grew. The Collector in the van opened the door and jumped out. Zach turned to Duke. "Snowmobiles."

Duke nodded. "Independents?"

Nev grasped Zach's arm tight. "Shit. What do we do?"

"Hell if I know." Fear washed over him. He fought it—for Nev. He had to stay strong.

The Collectors scattered in a frenzy. Zach pulled Nev outside. Mannie and Lizzie had disappeared. They were on their own. Zach pushed Nev ahead and crept around the side of the van. Rachael and Jess followed, protecting the children between them. Duke brought up the rear.

A wall of snow flew at him as a snowmobile swerved to a stop. A gunman behind the driver aimed an AK-47 at them. The other two snowmobiles spun around the van, heading off in either direction.

The gunman with the Kalashnikov rifle pointed it in the air and squeezed off a quick burst. "Everybody freeze! NOW!"

Zach stopped. He put his hands up and the rest followed suit. The chilly wind buffeted them; they really would freeze.

The driver got off the snowmobile and took a shotgun out of a holster taped to the side of his snowmobile. "I want some answers and I'll hurt people to get them."

Zach felt sweat trickle down his armpits; a second ago he was freezing.

The driver continued. "I want to know how many Collectors were here before they scattered like a bunch of chicken shit pansies."

The gunman stayed mounted, covering them with an AK-47, as the driver forced Zach to his knees with a kick.

Zach's knees burned in pain then the icy gravel bit into his jeans. If only we hadn't been so stupid.

The gunman pointed the shotgun at Zach's head.

"I'll talk," Nev yelled. She counted on her fingers slowly. "There were six I know for sure, and then a bunch more. Maybe ten."

The two other snowmobiles returned. The shotgun withdrew.

They hadn't caught Lizzie or Mannie. Zach breathed a sigh of relief.

The driver pulled his helmet off his head and set it on the snowmobile. He had a pock-marked face under a well-trimmed beard and a handlebar mustache. "Tell me about the rest."

The driver put his shotgun back in Zach's face. The chilly barrel caressed his cheek.

"Two more of our people," Nev blurted. "An old guy and a young girl."

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"Let go." Lizzie pushed her father's arm away. "I'll run."

They were inside the trees again. An ear splitting whistle rang out behind them, once and then again. The snarling died down. Somebody had called off the dogs. Her father stopped. She fell against a tree to catch her breath.

He pulled her down into a crouch and then looked back the way they'd come. "I'm sorry about your friend," he whispered gently.

Lizzie's eyes searched, hoping to see Spike limping after them. But she knew he was gone.

Her father held her for a moment. Then he pulled back and placed his hands on the sides of her face. His eyes showed more sadness than Lizzie thought she had ever seen. He kissed her forehead.

She watched him as the sadness clicked out and anger replaced it.

"Okay," he said. "We want to get those guys that did it?"

Lizzie nodded.

"Okay. Focus. Tell me what you saw. How many people? Which sides?"

Lizzie closed her eyes, picturing the scene in her head. "Independents: three snowmobiles, four men. New truck, three men, five or six dogs." She gritted her teeth as she recited everything else she had seen. She surprised herself in the detail she remembered. But it was seared into her brain by the death of her friend. Because he had been her friend.

"Fits what I saw." Her father nodded, his hand brushed the hair away from her face.

"What's the plan, Cap'n?" Lizzie saluted him half-heartedly and wiped away the tears.

"Lieutenant. Not exactly a plan. I want to tell you to run thataway. Fast."

Lizzie bared her teeth. "My friends—no, my family is up there. You say we need a plan. What. Is. It?"

Her father sighed. "You move ahead of me that way, stay close to the road, but not too close. Keep your eyes peeled. Stay quiet. I'm sticking closer to the edge of the trees. I'll take them out if they follow you."

"Okay." She wrapped her arms around him awkwardly, the shotgun in her arms. "Daddy, I always loved you." His arms held her; the butt of his gun pressed against her back. "Always."

It looked to Lizzie like he wanted to tell her that everything was going to be fine. But he kept his mouth shut. No guarantees. She appreciated the honesty.

A pop-pop of gunfire set them both in motion.