Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(83)
Before she’d left, she asked the question she’d dreaded speaking aloud: “If I don’t return, will you…will you take my kids? Will you keep them safe?”
Evelyn had gripped her bad hand in both of hers. “We will defend them with our own lives.”
Hannah knew it was true. It gave her a measure of peace—and motivation. People depended on her. People she loved.
“You might want the keys,” said a voice behind her.
Hannah spun, her good hand moving toward her holster.
“Woah, there, warrior princess! Stand down.” Perez took the front steps two at a time and halted in front of her. She dangled an ATV key fob from her fingers. “What? You didn’t think I’d let you go alone, did you?”
“It’s dangerous—”
“Damn straight. Which is why I’m coming. Us girls need to stick together.”
Hannah stared at her. “You okay, Samantha?”
Perez rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You need someone to watch your back. Besides, Liam would kill me if he discovered I let you go into the wolves’ den alone in the middle of the night. And I’d rather stay in his good graces when he gets back.”
“He’s coming back,” Hannah said, wanting it to be true with all her heart.
Perez flashed a maniacal grin. Her teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “He’s Liam freaking Coleman. Damn straight he’s coming back. We just need to concentrate on keeping ourselves upright and breathing.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Where are we headed?”
“The nuclear power plant.”
Her brows lifted. “Huh.”
“Maybe it’s a long shot, but it’s all I’ve got.”
“I love long shots. That’s why I have horrible taste in men.”
Hannah snorted.
Perez palmed the keys and headed for the ATV. “We doing this or what?”
“Oh, we’re definitely doing this.”
Hannah settled onto the front seat, Perez squeezing in behind her as they strapped on their helmets.
Hannah started the engine. The headlights flickered on.
Perez drew her pistol, did a quick check, and rested it against her thigh. “I’m shooting anything that moves. You just drive.”
61
Liam
Day One Hundred and Fifteen
The mercs knocked Liam to the floor. They took turns punching, kicking, and hitting him, then started over again.
Even with his hands bound, he managed to fight. On his back, he shot out a savage kick and nailed one in the face.
Dobson staggered back, blood streaming from his split lips, and spit out two teeth.
The victory was fleeting. The truth was, he could barely move, let alone fight.
Liam was beaten before he’d started.
Electric pain shot up his spine. The half-healed wound in his side burned like a hot ember. Still woozy from the concussion, they left him a broken and bloody mess.
“The General wants him alive.” Luther sounded distant, like he was underwater. “You better lay off.”
Gibbs directed a savage kick at Liam’s injured ribs. He curled into himself with a groan. “Looks fine to me.”
“What do you think the General will do to you if you accidentally kill him?”
Gibbs swore, but he backed off. “I need some water.”
“I’ve got something better than water,” Luther said. “Besides, Coleman smells rancid. We need a break. Come on.”
Liam’s skull pounded. His ears rang. Dimly, he heard receding footsteps and a door slamming shut.
They’d locked him in. They’d left him alone.
This was his chance.
His temples throbbed, his vision blurred. His tongue thick and swollen in his mouth like some alien thing. Everything hurt.
With incredible effort, Liam rolled onto his side, his cheek scraping rough concrete, and scanned the freezer.
It was devoid of anything he could use as an improvised weapon. The steel shelves were welded to the wall and floor. No furniture, no kitchen utensils or cooking tools.
Nothing but his pile of discarded clothing and the sunglasses case Luther had carelessly left behind.
Liam used his elbows to shove himself into a seated position, then rocked onto his knees. Images swam before his eyes, dimming at the edges.
He was dizzy, disoriented. Everything lurching and jerky.
With a groan, he moved his bound hands under and forward beneath his buttocks, his arms almost yanked out of their sockets. It took several tries. Leaning forward, he folded his legs to get his hands past his feet and in front of him, wincing as sweat broke out on his brow Gasping from the effort, he maneuvered his bound hands to his lower right side and gingerly peeled the medical tape from the bandage over his ribs.
Adrenaline surged through him. Pain and panic made his fingers fumble. He didn’t know whether he had minutes or seconds.
He was running out of precious time.
Frantic, unable to see what he was doing, his fingers searched for the object he’d hidden within the bandage earlier that night—Reynoso’s handcuff key.
Luther had known about the key sewn into Liam’s sock. The handcuff ploy was part of the plan. Luther’s betrayal was not.