Free The Fires of Atlantis (Purge of Babylon, Book 4) by Sam Sisavath Page B

of the stairs. The first floor below her was empty, with everyone having already left for their “jobs.” Peter was still around because he worked in the kitchen while Milly assisted him.
    “It sort of worked out perfectly for us,” Peter had said. “Besides Mac, there won’t be anyone here to stop us from leaving.”
    “What about outside?” she had asked. “Where are all the other guards?”
    “Walking around most of the time. You probably already know this, but this isn’t exactly a prison. They’re not going to stop anyone from leaving. Well, except you.”
    Gaby had seen the way Peter looked at her more than once. He had questions, but he had (smartly) decided to keep them to himself for now. He didn’t really have the look of a chef, but then most of the people around L15 were probably doing things they didn’t think they would be doing before The Purge. She certainly had no idea she would be sneaking around a bed-and-breakfast with an AK-47.
    Milly and Peter came back a few minutes later, both carrying large backpacks. Too large.
    “What’s in there?” Gaby asked.
    “Clothes,” Milly said. “And other stuff.”
    “What kind of other stuff?”
    “Deodorant, tooth paste, toothbrush…”
    “Get rid of the clothes.”
    “Why?”
    “Take only what you need.”
    “But I need my clothes,” Milly said.
    “Get rid of the clothes,” Gaby said again.
    Milly sighed and went back into her room.
    Peter looked after the girl, then over at Gaby. “I, uh, just have socks and underwear. And some personal stuff.”
    She nodded. “That’s fine.”
    “How old are you, anyway?” he asked. She guessed that was one of the questions that had been swirling around in his head since they met.
    “Old enough,” she said.
    “I thought you’d be older.”
    “You said that already.” Gaby glanced over as Milly came back out of her room with a noticeably lighter backpack. “Is there a back door?” she asked Peter.
    He nodded and moved to take the lead, but she put a hand on his arm.
    “I’ll go first,” she said, stepping ahead of him. “Just tell me where to go.”
    “Down the stairs, turn right into the back hallway,” Peter said.
    She moved down the stairs, the rifle in front of her. She didn’t particularly like the AK-47, but she knew how to use it. Although she was more familiar with the M4, there were other rifles on the island she had trained on over the months. Will always told her it was fine to have a favorite, but not at the risk of being ignorant of the rest.
    As Peter promised, there was no one on the first floor. The emptiness made her nervous, with the main entrance looming in front of her. She glimpsed two figures standing across the street, both wearing camo uniforms similar to the ones Mac and Lance wore and the jacket she had on now. The uniforms made it easier to pick them out from the civilians. The last thing she wanted was to shoot someone who was just trying to survive the end of the world. The ones with guns, on the other hand…well, she could live with putting them down.
    She turned right and led Milly and Peter into the back hallway. They followed (too) closelybehind and made too much noise. There was a door at the end, sunlight filtering in through a security window. She reached it and looked out, past the sidewalk and at the buildings across the street. Large trees encircled the town in the near distance. Figures—men and women, and some children—moved along the sidewalks.
    She looked back at Peter, then Milly. They were watching her anxiously.
    “We’re going to walk out of here like we belong,” she said. “Act normally. Walk normally. You belong here. Don’t draw attention to yourselves, but don’t look away from anyone, either. Got it?”
    They nodded back.
    “If anyone calls your name, respond,” Gaby continued. “You’re doing what you’re supposed to do—going about your business.”
    “Okay,” Peter said.
    “Got it,” Milly nodded.
    “I don’t