Free Siege by Rhiannon Frater

supplies, the Hummer, an armed escort, and maids?”
    “Nope. I say we give them a decent car, though. A week’s worth of supplies. Weapons. Ammo. And let them go defend their home. They won’t last long. We both know it. Either they’ll get their asses eaten or show back up in a week or two begging to come back in.” Bill’s expression was somewhere between amusement and anger.
    “We’re agreed on that point then. I told him as much, but...”
    “Let him simmer down then tell him again.” Bill shrugged slightly. “It’s the humane thing to do, I guess.”
    “Never gets easier, does it?”
    “It will. One day.”
    “As long as it’s not when we’re all dead,” Travis said with a weary grin.
    “I was trying to catch ya and let ya know ol’ Calhoun got his specs down for those flamethrower weapons for the walls. I can’t make heads or tails of his scribbling, but I figured you, Eric and Juan could let him know if it’s doable.”
    “Mind rounding up the others?”
    “Can do.”
    “Thanks.” Travis walked on toward the old hotel manager’s office that he used as the mayor of the fort. He felt tired and wanted a bit of a nap, but he could tell already that wasn’t going to happen. It had been hard to climb out of the warm bed he shared with Katie this morning. His wife’s body had felt so comfortable tucked next to his, and the sound of the ice rain tapping against the window had almost lured him back under the covers. Now, he was wishing he had stayed there.
    Travis passed the front desk where Peggy hung out during a lot of the day trying to contact the outside world on what was left of the internet. He noted that she had a cute new hairdo.
    “Looking good, Peg.”
    Without looking away from her game of Solitaire, she handed him a bottle of Febreze. “Calhoun is looking for you. I think he was rolling in dog shit.”
    “This day just keeps getting better.”
    3. Tangled Webs
    Calhoun skirted around the lobby and ducked down one of the lesser used hallways. The voices in the lobby were echoing and mingling with the ones in his head, causing his brain to hurt. Falling against the wall, he was dimly aware of the two people standing behind a plant nearby, whispering to each other.
    Clutching his head, he tried to get his thoughts together. He envisioned all the thoughts moving through his mind like long, colorful threads, twisting and looping, sometimes weaving together. Sometimes they made perfect sense, other times they became a jumbled mess. When that happened, his head throbbed and those threads all sang in wild voices, demanding his attention. Gripping the wall with his dirty, gnarled hand, he tried to find the strongest thread, the strongest thought, and hold onto it.
    Then it came to him.
    His eyes snapped open and he became vividly aware of the two people staring at him with disgust. It was that blond bitch and Ray, one of the salvage crew guys.
    “Blanche Mann, you’re the whore of Babylon!” He could see it so clearly. Her twisted soul was a black miasma of goo around her neck and evil was vivid in her red eyes. With a cry of despair, he twirled around and ran from the hallway.
    He barely heard Blanche order Ray to, “Get the old fucker.”
    It was painfully clear to him what was going on now and what he needed to do. There was evil in the halls of the fort, and he had to rectify the situation.
    Running across the lobby, his battered boots beating on the marble floor, he wailed an agonized cry.
    Out of the fuzzy world around him, a face came sharply into focus and he skittered to a stand still.
    “What’s up, Calhoun?” Travis looked at him quizzically. Calhoun felt his mind slip off the thread he was clutching and swirl downward into the maze of brightly colored thoughts. It took a few seconds for his mind to snap onto a new one.
    “Flame throwers!” Calhoun snapped his fingers. “Flame throwers to protect the gate! That’s it!”
    “You seemed a little upset there.”
    Calhoun