Free The Spears of Laconia (Purge of Babylon, Book 7) by Sam Sisavath Page A

something that sounded almost like disbelief in the woman’s voice. She saw again the sadness and regret in Morris’s eyes as she stared off, as if she could see something down the street that wasn’t just ruins and body parts and blood. Four hundred people, except for however many had been in those “half dozen” vehicles that had managed to escape along the creek.
    She opened her eyes when Nate said from the front seat, “What are we dealing with here?”
    “I don’t have a clue,” Danny said.
    “That Warthog. Where would something like that come from?”
    “There are three Air Force bases in Texas that I know of for certain, probably more I haven’t heard of or been to. That A-10 could have come from any number of places. It’s not like Uncle Sam’s still around to keep them under lock and key. Frankly, I’m surprised this is the first time we’ve seen one of those things since Happy Times went bye-bye.”
    “So why didn’t you and Will ever go looking for one? Or hell, maybe something more up-to-date, like an Apache?”
    “Can you fly an Apache, kid?”
    “Well, no…”
    “Yeah, neither could we. There could be a fleet of AC-130s sitting around just waiting for us, and we wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing with them ’cause we don’t know our cockpits from our cockheads. Why do you think a commercial pilot makes more money than the guy who digs ditches?”
    “Sorry, stupid question.”
    “There are no stupid questions, just stupid people that ask them.”
    Nate grunted before slowing down the F-150 and turning, taking them even further away from the highway. They were headed north now and soon would have to turn back west so they wouldn’t pass Starch by completely. The longer route, but the safer one, especially with that Warthog still up there, somewhere…
    “Those people back there,” Nate was saying. “They didn’t deserve that. Even if they were collaborating with the ghouls.”
    “No one deserves that,” Danny said.
    “What are you going to tell Lara?”
    “Hell if I know.”
    “Are you going to tell her?”
    Danny didn’t answer right away. Gaby found herself waiting anxiously for the answer, too.
    “I don’t know,” Danny finally said. “I’ll decide when we contact them again, hopefully from the warmth and comfort of Harold Campbell’s facility this time.”
    Gaby didn’t have the strength to join their conversation, and instead closed her eyes again and leaned tighter against the door. Winter was already here, but in Texas it was sometimes difficult to tell. Christmas was somewhere over the horizon, and with it another New Year’s Eve where no one would be celebrating, or singing Auld Lang Syne. Maybe the cold would help wash away the smell of smoke and blood that still clung to her hair and skin and every inch of her clothing. God, she needed a bath in the worst—
    “Fuck, shit!” Danny shouted from the front seat.
    Her eyes flew open and she sat up straight, was about to say something when she saw it—sunlight reflecting off the gray of its wings as it streaked toward them from the other side of the small feeder road.
    “Out!” Danny shouted. “Get the fuck out and find cover now!”
    She wasn’t even certain if the truck was still moving or if it had stopped when Danny threw open his passenger side door and leaped out. She reached for her own door handle with one hand, the other grabbing her rifle leaning against the seat. The door was opening and she was almost out when she remembered her pack and all the equipment—
    “Gaby!” Danny’s voice, from the other side of the vehicle, booming in her ears. “Move your ass!”
    She moved her ass, flinging the door wide open and throwing the rest of her out, one hand clutching her rifle.
    Never lose your rifle. Never lose your rifle!
    She stumbled and fell, saw the highway floor rushing up at a million miles an hour, and had to stick out both hands to stop her fall. She lost her grip on the M4 in the