Promise Me Once

  I pushed away from the building and ran straight for the center of town. My heavy breathing filled my ears along with the screams and gunfire. Time slowed down but my feet never did.

  Not until I saw the fence.

  It was an eight-foot, chain-linked fence, topped with barbed wire and surrounding the town square. Soldiers were pushing and shoving people into the fenced-in area. Men and women were crying and sobbing, begging for their lives. Asking for their freedom.

  It was a hellish scene and I was witness to it all.

  The shotgun started to slip through my fingers. I wanted to yank it up and take a shot when I saw a soldier hit a woman with the butt of his gun. Another shoved an elderly woman to her knees, yelling at her in a foreign language.

  It was too much, yet I couldn’t look away. It hardened me. Numbed me to the danger I faced.

  With my jaw set in a rigid line, I tightened my grip on my shotgun and darted to the next building. I was itching to fight and take out a few of the assholes, but first I had to figure out what my plan was. I needed to lay low and get my shit together. Come up with a plan.

  I jiggled the door handle of the building next to me. It was locked. I headed back the way I had come, away from the center of town. I needed to find somewhere safe, wherever the hell that was.

  I found a deserted laundromat a few blocks away. I pulled my knife from my boot and pried the back door open with the blade. The door gave with a quiet pop and I darted inside, staying low to the ground and away from the large windows in front.

  It smelled moldy, with a stale, unused scent. The candy machine in the corner had been overturned but all the chocolate bars were gone. The change machine had been destroyed, leaving quarters lying on the floor. I kneeled behind a counter and gathered my thoughts, trying to sort out what I knew.

  The soldiers were foreign S.O.Bs. They carried some major artillery and wasn’t afraid to use it. There was no time to worry about why they were here or how they got here. There was only what I was going to do to get past them.

  I stayed in the laundromat until it grew dark. It was stifling hot and almost more than I could bear but I had to bide my time. The cover of darkness was when I would make my move.

  When the shadows disappeared and night fell, I left my shotgun hidden in a pile of clothes and crept out the back door. Some might call me crazy for leaving one of my guns behind, but I would come back for it later. I didn’t want to be seen walking around with a loaded shotgun and I couldn’t very well hide it. Plus, if I didn’t look like a threat, I might survive what I was about to do.

  My plan was simple, really. I was going on the other side of that fence. I needed to find my parents and I had a feeling they were behind the chain-link wall. I was also hoping to find Cat. I hope to God she wasn’t one of the prisoners, but I refused to think that she had been gunned down in the middle of a street somewhere.

  Clouds kept the moonlight hidden, giving me the darkness I needed to remain unseen. I kept close to the ground and ran toward the fence, using the buildings to conceal me. Twenty more feet. Ten more feet. My heartbeat went crazy as I got closer. I kept my eyes open for soldiers and my hand ready to grab my revolver if need be.

  I found three men patrolling the fence line. I spotted them right away. I waited behind an abandoned car, watching as they paced one way then another. I timed them, looking for an opportunity. When I saw my opening, I took it.

  The thing about that fence was it wasn’t buried in the ground and it was loose in some spots. Stupid of the terrorists, perfect for me. I spotted a particularly vulnerable spot where the ground dipped just right.

  I ran as fast as I could for the area, watching the men whose backs were turned. I just needed one second.

  And I took it.

  I hit the grass and dropped, sliding under the fence. My clothes snagged, but I didn’t bother unhooking them. I was on my feet and walking away in seconds.

  Behind enemy lines.

  Chapter Thirty

  Cash

  I was ten years old when my dad took me hunting for the first time. We had walked through the woods quietly, making sure not to make a sound as we tracked the hog we were after. The sucker was tearing up my dad’s crops, destroying our income and threatening to end our livelihood. He had to be stopped.

  That night I learned to blend in with my surroundings. I became an expert at it, moving through the woods undetected or walking through fallen leaves without making a sound. I did that again in the foreign bastards concentration camp, walking casually away from the barbed-wire fence.

  I kept a close eye on the soldiers as I walked away. They turned to pace the other way along the fence line. Perfect damn timing.

  I headed toward the nearest group of people. I had to blend in. Look like I belonged there, when the only thing I wanted to do was pull out my pistol and take out a few of the foreign fucks milling around.

  The group didn’t pay any attention to me as I joined them. They were too scared to care. I hung around with them a minute or two then moved on to the next group, glancing at everyone. Trying to find my mom and dad. The third group I came to, I recognized two people.

  One of them was Cat’s friend.

  I walked over to her with a calm, cool stride, despite the fury in me when I saw a soldier punch a man out cold. In the few minutes I had been behind the fence, I saw shit I would never forget.

  When I got closer to the girl, I grabbed her wrist and turned her around. She was dirty and tired-looking. The man standing next to her tried to jump between us and come to her rescue, but I gave him a deadly look, ready to pull my revolver in order to get any information I could about Cat.

  “Where is she?” I growled, scowling down at the girl. Niceties and politeness had no place in my world anymore.

  The girl cowered and looked frightened, but then understanding dawned on her face.

  “You’re that cowboy aren’t you? The one that started her car?”

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I gritted my teeth. “Cat. I need to know where’s she at.”

  The girl’s bottom lip trembled. “She went home, back to her apartment in Austin.”

  Relief flooded me. Cat was safe, away from this hell. That’s all I needed to know.

  I let go of her and turned. I got what I wanted from her. Now I needed to talk to the next person I recognized.

  Jo from Cooper’s Bar.

  She was standing with a group of men, arguing with them in hushed tones. I skirted around the crying folks in the crowd and headed her way.

  When I closer to her, I stopped a hair’s breath away.

  “Where are my parents?” I asked in a whisper, listening with half an ear to a man in the group talk about the terrorists raiding the town.

  Jo turned to face me. I tried not to wince. Her short gray hair was matted and dirty. Her face was black and blue, cuts and nicks everywhere. Her right eye was almost swollen shut and her left one was heading there too.

  “What happened to you?” I asked, growing angry all over again.

  Her eyes darted around, ignoring my question. “What you doing here, boy?” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, watching two soldiers walk by.

  They stared at us, one with a cigarette dangling between his lips. I waited until they had moved on before answering her.

  “I’m looking for my parents. Have you seen them?”

  Jo knew everyone in town, including my mother and father. If they were here, she would know it.

  Her eyes became misty but she nodded at the 19th century courthouse and answered my question. “They’re over there. In the back.”

  I started to leave, desperate to get to my parents, but Jo grabbed my arm, stopping me.

  “There ain’t nothing you can do, boy. You need to get out of here quick.”

  I shook her hand off and hurried toward the courthouse. I had no idea what she was talking about but I didn’t have time to ask. I needed to grab my parents and get the hell out of town.
>
  Dirty and ragged people lingered at the bottom of the courthouse steps. Foreign combatants lounged inside the open doorway, making themselves at home. They looked smug and full of self-righteous attitude, looking down at the townspeople with loathing. I wanted to do a little target practice and take a few of them out, but I avoided their eyes instead and walked by at a normal pace. My body was tense, ready to spring into action, but I stayed calm and cool. As collected as I had ever been.

  As I passed under the flagpole, the sound of the flag hitting the metal pole caught my attention. I glanced up. What I saw made my blood run cold.

  The U.S. flag had been replaced with a foreign flag, declaring our little town conquered and seized by the terrorist enemy. The question was what did they want with us?

  With my jaw set tight and fury pounding in me, I went around the courthouse as quickly as I dared. What I saw on the other side made me stop in my tracks and feel sick.

  The injured had been dumped near the back of the courthouse. Men, women, and children were everywhere. They were bleeding and wounded. Suffering and dying. I went from person to person, checking for familiar faces and hoping I wouldn’t see one. But I saw two.

  My mom and dad.

  They might have been unrecognizable to someone else, but I would know them anywhere. My dad was sitting against the courthouse. The last two weeks had not been kind to him. His clothes were tattered and his cheeks were pale and hollow. My mother was lying on the ground beside him. Her head was in his lap as if she were taking a nap but I knew by the blood on her chest that she would never wake up.

  I fell to my knees beside her, my throat closing up tight. “Mom?” My voice croaked, the tears springing up out of nowhere.

  She didn’t respond but my dad did.

  “Son!” he gasped in his gravelly voice. He grabbed my shirtsleeve in a tight grip.

  I lifted my eyes to look at him. His face was caked with dirt and blood. Tears had left streaks on his cheeks but they hadn’t dried yet. He was still crying, weeping over his wife. Grieving over her death.

  “What happened?” I forced out, almost strangled by my tears.

  My dad shook his head in sorrow, still holding onto my shirtsleeve. “They got us, son. They got us.”

  The tears choked me, the grief more than I could bear.

  “Mom?” I asked, unable to say the words. I reached for her hand. I needed for her to respond. To open her eyes and smile at me.

  But she didn’t and she never would.

  “I’m sorry. She’s gone, son. Gone.”

  I started shaking my head before he said it. Before he uttered the words I had hoped I never had to hear.

  “No!” I hissed, dropping my head to hide the tears that fell down my face.

  My dad lowered his hand from my arm, letting me grieve. I couldn’t remember the last time I cried, but I did then until I couldn’t cry anymore. I cried until my eyes were red and the tears gave way to anger.

  “Tell me what happened,” I ground out between clenched teeth, snapping my gaze up at my dad.

  He took a deep breath, wincing as he did it. “They came out of nowhere. First the electricity cut off and the cars wouldn’t run, then the soldiers came. They rounded us up like livestock and put us in there. Others they didn’t bother with and just shot.”

  I didn’t tell him that I had seen it with my own eyes. I had witnessed the evilness that walked the town streets. It was just a waste of words and right now I needed to know what happened to my mother and who I needed to kill. But my dad had other things he had to get off his chest first.

  “Rumor is that they are here because of the army depot. They’ve got chemical weapons in there and tanks. These men – whoever they are – want it,” he said around a rattling breath.

  It made sense. The army depot was right outside of town. It employed many of the townspeople and held weapons and equipment essential to the military. Take the town, take the depot. The terrorists had it planned.

  “What…what about Mom?” I asked, forcing the words out.

  My dad coughed, a sickly, wet sound. “Your mom was trying to save a boy when she got in the line of fire. I…I couldn’t stop her.”

  A tear fell down his face. He let it as he glanced at me. “You shouldn’t be here, Cash.”

  “I’m here now and I’m getting you out.” I reached for him, planning on pulling him to his feet, but my dad pushed my hands away.

  “Get out of here, son. Save yourself and go get Keely. It’s just the two of you now.” Pain crossed his face with the effort of pushing me away.

  I glanced over him, looking for some sign that he was hurt also.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not leaving you. I know a way out. I can get us there. Let’s go.”

  I tried reaching for him again but there was something in his eyes that stopped me.

  Sorrow.

  He eased my mom off his lap, careful to place her tenderly beside him. I was almost afraid to, but I made myself glance over his lean frame. That’s when I saw it, what my mother’s body had been hiding.

  Blood coated his shirt and one of his legs. It pooled beneath him, soaking into the earth and turning the ground a deep red.

  “They got me, son.”

  I shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes again.

  ‘No,” I whispered, refusing to believe it. “No!”

  With a sudden, powerful grip, his hand snapped out and grabbed my wrist. “You listen to me, son. I’m done for but you’re still here. If there’s one thing I’ve taught you, it’s how to survive. Get out of town while you still can. Live. That’s all I’m asking you to do for me. Live.”

  On a choking sob, I grasped him and yanked him to me, hugging him fiercely. I was a grown man that was usually calm and collected. I didn’t ask for much. I worked the land. I had a little money. I paid my dues. I met a girl and made love to her like a mad man, not once but twice, wishing I could forget her afterward but knowing I never would.

  I was that man and more, but I was on my knees crying, asking God not to do this to me.

  My dad gave my arm a gentle squeeze. He was a tough ol’ cowboy that had worked hard for most of his life. He didn’t put much stock in words but right then I knew what he was saying.

  Goodbye.

  He let me go and I touched my mother’s hand one more time. I didn’t want to leave. Everything in me screamed to stay. But before I could make myself stand up and walk away, my dad grasped my hand.

  “Give them hell and never stop fighting.”

  “Never,” I said, tightening my fingers on his.

  ~~~~

  I left that makeshift concentration camp a different man. I was colder. Harder. Scars marked my soul but fire burned in my veins.

  I hung around town for a while. Assessing the enemy. Learning their ways. Waiting to see their weaknesses. I moved around like a fox, sly and silent. I stole from the terrorists and took what I could, giving it to the prisoners when I had a chance.

  I looked for a way to get people out but conditions worsened. When I ran into my friends, Brody and Eva, I made the hard decision to walk away from the town with them.

  I would get them to a safe place and somehow find my sister.

  It was the beginning of the end.

  And I would fight to survive it.

  Chapter Thirty–One

  Cat

  My soul had taken a beating. My heart had been ripped from my body. Life had brought me pain and heartache. But nothing had prepared me for this.

  I stood under the harsh sunlight and peered off into the distance. Wavy shimmers of heat rose from the blacktop, creating mirages of liquid in the distance. The trees alongside the road stood still, not one leaf moving and not one branch swaying. It was hot. Deathly hot.

  Being exposed to the elements morning, noon, and night was taking a toll on us but we didn’t have a choice. We had to be under the harsh sun, baking under the unyielding yellow ball in the sky. Tate, Nathan,
Keely, and I were escaping, running before the city fell further into chaos. Leaving my belongings hadn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Suddenly the designer clothes and expensive shoes didn’t matter much. Surviving did.

  We were on a deserted country road, trying to get home. Nathan said we had miles to go until we reached our little podunk town. I just took it one day at a time. One step at a time. One heartbeat at a time.

  I readjusted the backpack higher on my shoulder and wished I had a cold drink of water. A small trickle of sweat traced its way down my back, adding to my already soaked tank top. Another drop of perspiration ran down my forehead. I didn’t bother wiping it away. I was too tired anyway.

  “How much further?”

  I glanced at Tate. He walked beside me, looking as worn-out as I felt. His hair was matted and dirty, plastered to his head. New freckles had joined the old ones across his nose and cheeks, thanks to hours under the sun. He had seen things and done things in the past few weeks that no twelve-year old should ever have to see and do. He walked when we said walk and rested when we said rest. Without him and Nathan, I’m not sure what I would have done. They were my rocks as the world crumbled around us. My only reason for going on.

  “The next town is a few miles away. Think you can make it?” Nathan asked Tate, walking on the other side of me.

  “Yeah,” Tate answered, squinting past me at Nathan “I ain’t no baby.”

  “You’re not a baby,” I corrected him.

  Tate peered at me with spitefulness. “Why the fuck does it matter how I say it, Cat? The world is a shithole place anyway now.”

  I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. Plus, he was right – what did it matter anymore?

  We walked a little while longer in silence, each of us in our own world of suffering. Finally Keely spoke up.

  “What time do you think it is?”

  I glanced over at her. Her pale blonde hair was dirty, thick strands of it falling out of the ponytail she had fastened with a string she had found on the road. Her cheeks were sunburned and her gray eyes had dark circles under them, magnified by her cracked eyeglasses. Her face was gaunt, thinner than it had been before. The hunger we all felt was more pronounced on her.