TEX

The corpse of what was once Savannah lay in ruins. Trash littered roads, sidewalks, and empty lots. It spilled out of broken windows and shop doorways. Places that used to sell art and electronics and all the other bullshit people thought they needed back then. The air burned, everywhere, eyes and throat and lungs, and they made people live in this—work and eat and sleep in this. My hands fisted as I stared at the massive fence in the distance. Six different guard posts towered above the ground, two suits in each one, shining spotlights with trigger happy fingers. I'd bet my last bullet that the massive, steel buildings they watched over were where the prisoners were being held. "Those have to be the barracks."

Merle and Cecil stood on either side of me, the rest of the men grouped together at our backs. We'd planned for every possible scenario and were still walking in like newborn babies. We didn't have the layout. We didn't have one single fucking clue what this place looked like beyond the gate.

"If we can get inside one before they know we're here, we'll have more numbers before the fighting starts." Every man was loaded down with extra guns and ammo. If I could get to the people being held, hand them a gun and tell them to point and shoot, we might have a snowball's chance in hell of pulling this off. I scratched my jaw. They weren't far from the fence, but the guard posts were right beside them, and the lights had no rhythm. Trying to get this many men past them would turn us into target practice.

"I vote we blow shit up," Merle said.

I shook my head. "We need more numbers, and our greatest asset is surprise."

Cecil motioned with his chin. "Why don't we send some of our boys up to replace those mother fuckers." He pointed around as if counting chickens. "There's only six towers. That's twelve men. We can kill twelve and keep it quiet."

I grinned. "Cecil, you're a goddamn genius."

He grunted. "If you think that's genius, then we're even more fucked than I thought."

***

We stretched out flat on our stomachs and trained our guns, covering the six pairs of men as they crouched and sprinted across the darkness. My eyes stayed on Croc as he got a huge lead on Reggie and shimmied up the post like a fucking spider. "Slow down," I muttered, but he couldn't hear me, and Reggie's stupid ass couldn't seem to catch up quick enough.

When Croc went over the side without waiting, I cursed beneath my breath. "Son of a bitch!"

"Wait," Merle said.

I ground my teeth and focused back on the rest of them. They were climbing, one just above the other on opposite sides of the poles. Reggie just managed to do the same, but it would all be for nothing if Croc couldn't take down both those men on his own.

When no alarm came, and the lights met in the center, we knew we were clear.

I clenched my teeth as I pushed up from the ground. "That could have gone real bad real fucking quick."

Merle gripped my forearm for support and pulled himself up. "He felt it was his job to protect her. Don't matter how many times I remind him that she was my wife." He snorted. "Boy is blood thirsty. You said kill those men, and I don't reckon he wanted to share with old Reggie."

"That would have been some nice shit to know before I gave him a gun and a high point to fire it from."

Cecil stepped closer. "He don't like guns. He acted like I'd asked him to hold my damn purse when I handed him one." He rolled his eyes and started toward the fence.

Merle and I followed, waving the rest of the men behind forward.

"He's wearing a belt full of kitchen knives," Merle murmured.

Cecil snorted.

"At the present moment, I couldn't give a rat's ass if he's wearing polka dot pajamas." I pulled the pliers from my pocket and pushed ahead to cut the chain links.

"Careful," Cecil said. "It might be hot."

"We don't have time to search for a fuse box, let alone try to shut it down." Without knowing the voltage, there was no telling if a run and jump would be enough to stop the current, and I didn't have time to dig a fucking hole and shove these big assholes through it. "Only one damn way to find out," I said. I reached out and clamped them on.

Nothing happened.

I blew out a breath and cut, then quickly worked my way down, snapping the wire until I could pull it apart. "Remember," I said. "We arm as many able-bodied men as we can, then we split up. Group one gets the prisoners out and covers us from the outside, group two comes with me." I focused on Merle. "Then we blow shit up."

He smiled. "Now you're speaking my language."

We pushed through, moving in a steady line toward the back of the nearest building. It was massive, without one window or vent to be seen. They kept them like roaches, denying even the smallest crevice that might allow them to survive. One way in. One way out. No escape.

I crept around the corner and came face to face with a fucking suit. He jolted at the sight of me, and had his gun pointed before I could even think to point mine. Everything about me tightened. Son of a bitch. It was too soon for this. I eyed his grip on the gun, the way his finger twitched against the trigger. He was scared, and he should have been. It was smart to be, because he had a gun trained on me, and I had every intention of surviving this shit. I was going to make it back to that fucking ship. I was going to make it back to her.

I lunged for him just as he choked, spluttered, and fell forward.

Dark red stained the clinical white of his suit, spilling out from where the steak knife sunk deep into his back. I couldn't see Croc past the spotlight, but I was suddenly a lot less fucking annoyed with him. I turned to Merle and jerked my chin to signal the rest of the men forward. "He can have however many damn knives he wants."

He huffed a laugh.

Thick chains and a padlock held the door secure. I lifted my gun and hit it hard, once, then again, casting looks around and just waiting for someone to hear. But the minute it finally broke—the minute we made it inside—our mission changed. Everything changed.

Wooden pallets made into mass bunks lined the walls on all sides. A tiny fire was the only light to be found, and for a moment, a few of the men inside scrambled to put it out. Until they really looked at me and the men as we piled inside and pulled the doors shut. Gags echoed behind me, and my own stomach turned. The smell was worse than death. Shit and piss and decaying flesh. The men before us weren't men anymore. They were corpses, like the city they'd been sentenced to. Skin and bones. Festering sores and lifeless eyes sunk into gaunt faces. They stared at us, and whispers lifted as my plans crumbled. These men couldn't fight. They couldn't help. It was a miracle they were even breathing.

One of the many whispered my father's name. Butch Ericson. Then again, across the room. Butch Ericson. Whether they recognized the cut on the men's backs, or I looked more like him than I thought, I wasn't sure, but it lit a fire inside me. Because I heard it, as they said it, that hope that the government had taken. That hope that they'd killed the day they desecrated him. "I'm his son," I said, voice loud enough to reach the many ears.

A hush fell over them, then a rumble started as the whispers multiplied and blended together.

"How many of you men know how to use a gun?"

A man, long and spindly like an insect, unfolded his limbs from a bunk halfway down. All eyes locked on him as he scooted, one foot, then the other, never stumbling despite the obvious effort it took him. "I can shoot." He reached back and pointed toward another man he'd left behind. "So can he."

He was weaker than any man I'd ever seen, but the way he held himself gave me hope. I imagined him fed and whole and holding a gun. As if reading my thoughts, Merle passed one to him, and Cecil stepped over and passed his extra to the man he'd motioned to.

One by one, the rest followed, forming a line as if that's all they remembered how to do. Stand in lines, wait to be directed. Wait to be killed.

The first man to speak out stepped closer to me as the rest waited for a turn. "I'm Joseph." He passed over a piece of paper so worn I thought it would crumble if I took it. "It's a map," he said. "The Xs are where the guards are usually posted, but they do rounds." He pointed and ran his finger over the page. "Through here, and here, every half hour." He stopped and looked at me. "How did you make it past the towers?"

Perhaps all wasn't lost after all. His mind was sharp, his wits intact. It was amazing that they all hadn't gone insane. "We took the towers." I studied the map, counting his markings. "What's the most guards you've ever seen at one time?"

"Thirty, maybe. But there are more. We aren't permitted anywhere but work and here, but the facility itself is huge. I have no way of knowing how many people fill the rest of it."

"So, they could have a whole army stashed inside just waiting to be deployed."

He nodded. "But you've got the towers. If we hurry, we can get the other buildings open before they—"

The deafening roar of a thousand bullets cut him off.