Joshua Gayou - Commune - The Complete Series - A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Box Set (Books 1-4)

“What happened to all that stuff you shifted?” Clay interrupted.

She sat there a moment with her mouth hanging open, thinking. She finally closed it, shook her head, and said, “Clay… honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if those fucking bastards burned it up along with Stacy and his woman back at their house.”

“Jesus… fucking… Christ.”

She nodded miserably in agreement.

“Okay… that gets us to leaving Colorado,” Clay rumbled, leaning his forehead into his hand as he slumped over the bar. “Explain where we are now. You’re not shitting in my cornflakes right now over guilt… or are you? Is that all you have to tell me?”

Slowly, she shook her head, eyes wide and hard as polished glass.

“Uh. I guess it was too much to hope for. Well, let’s fucking have it, then.”

“Riley’s dead, uh, Clay. Him and everyone he had with him down at the theater,” said Mitch.

“And how the hell do you know that?”

“I was down there with ’em.”

“Uh. You aren’t dead, I see…”

“Yeah, I, uh… I hid in a closet.”

Clay snorted. “Regular set of weasel nuts on you, huh?”

Mitch flushed and looked down at the floor. “You didn’t hear the screaming…”

“Screaming?”

Mitch nodded slowly. “It was gunfire first. Came so fast that half of our guys were dead before they even realized what was happening. I got lucky; I was coming back from the icebox with a drink, so I was right by the broom closet when they came up the hall. I eased into it, thinking I could let them pass by me and… and maybe come up behind them if it looked like I had a chance of getting the drop on them. I didn’t have a gun with me, though, so it was gonna be me coming out of the closet, grabbing either my gun or at least one of the other guys’ guns, and then off I’d go. I’d just talked myself into going when the screaming started. Far as I could tell, it was only one man screaming, and I’m pretty sure it was Riley… not completely, though. He… he screamed like an animal, Clay. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that sound; it glued my ass right to the floor of that closet.”

“Riley was being tortured, then…” Clay mused. “That changes things, I suspect…”

“Anyway. I got Danielle since she was in with Ronny and all…”

“And are you in with Ronny?” Clay asked, voice dangerously smooth.

“Naw, he’s a moonlighter, Clay,” Elton said. “Mitch is with my teams a lot of the time, but he’ll jump from group to group—between us, Pap, and Ronny, when the need arises. He ain’t really affiliated; he’s cool.”

“Fine. Now someone explain to me why Riley’s dead and who did it,” Clay said.

“My best guess is that it was Gibs or some of his people,” Danielle muttered.

Clay’s eyes widened at this news. “Well, Christ. I was hoping you’d say Ronny and Riley’d had a falling out.”

She nodded. “One of the locals—this guy Edgar—came down a few nights ago to try and set up a deal for trade. He… he ran into me, I intercepted him, and I took him to Riley.”

“Holy shit!” Mitch crowed. “That was when you kicked my ass out of there!” He stood quietly for a moment as the others stared back at him, Clay’s face sour over the interruption, and thought. He thought about the fire back in Colorado. “God damn !” he gasped. “You really did save my ass, didn’t you Danielle?”

“Mitch was down there with me when he arrived,” Danielle explained to the rest of them. “I sent him away before he could see Edgar—just to make sure he didn’t do or say anything stupid and get… taken care of.”

“Then what?” demanded Clay.

Danielle shrugged. “That’s all I know. I took Edgar to the theater and handed him over to Riley. Then I told him that was me cashing out and I didn’t want anything to do with him or that asshole Ronny ever again. And that was when he said they’d pin the Colorado fire on me and he made threats against Elton as well.”

She heard Elton hiss from behind her; heard the creaking of his palms as he twisted at the rifle’s stock. “Motherfucker’s lucky he’s dead,” he spat.

“So you left it there, went home… didn’t tell anybody and then… what? Mitch just comes running out to your place to tell you everyone down at the theater’s gone the way of just about everyone else on this spinning ball of shit, huh?” Clay asked.

“Yes.”

“What was the period of time between you handing off Edgar and Mitch coming to get you? Be fucking precise, now.”

She thought quietly. “Three days.”

Clay sighed and leaned back on the stool, staring up at the beams of the ceiling. He passed a hand over his tired eyes and muttered, “Lot can happen in just three days…”

“What’s that, Baws?”

“I said we need to go see Ronny.”

“You’ll find him out at the church on the edge of town,” Mitch said. “The big one.”

“The chur- And what the fuck is going on over there?”

Mitched shrugged and opened his mouth to speak, but Clay stopped him with a hand.

“Stop. Just stop. If you don’t know why he’s over there or what he’s got going, just don’t say anything. If I hear one more person say the words ‘I don’t know,’ I’m liable to shove a hand down their throat, grab ’em by the pecker, and pull them inside-fucking-out.”

Mitch shut his mouth with a loud clack and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Clay eyed him a moment and nodded. He looked at Danielle, drooping eyes red-rimmed and watery, and considered what to do with her. She met his gaze, barely, and waited to see what would come next. She thought she might jump in front of Elton if he tried to interfere.

“You love this man, huh?”

She blinked, taken far off guard. Recovering quickly, she said, “I do. The only reason I’m here right now is this was the only way to hang onto him. I don’t even really care what happens to me; I just don’t want to end with him hating me.”

“I don’t hate you, Baby,” Elton whispered. “I love you, too. You did the right thing, getting it out like that. Think you’re the bravest woman I ever met.”

Clay looked at Elton, considering him with his hooded, secret eyes; those inscrutable windows into a calculating, tired mind running on slipping gears and frayed belts. He looked away from them, glancing out the window into the night, tapping his fingertips on the bar top, and then he looked out at the couch where Cuate slept in his blanket. He grunted and sniffed loudly.

Finally, he reached out his hand and said, “Come here, Elton, gimme that mitt…”

Elton looked at him suspiciously, trying to gauge what might come next, but when Clay flapped his hand impatiently, he was forced to shrug and put his hand out. Clay grabbed it, pulled him closer to the bar until his chest collided with Danielle’s shoulder, and rested Elton’s hand over hers. He slapped the top of Elton’s knuckles, looked at Danielle, and whispered, “Don’t ever fucking leave this man.”

She swallowed hard, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, and nodded sharply.

Clay looked at pap, his hand still resting on the combined hands of the two lovers, and said, “Get O.B. and his specialty crew, huh? We’ll fire up the diesels and cruise on down to this goddamned church.”

Pap jerked to his feet, nodded, yanked out a radio from behind his back, and strode from the room. He slowed only for a moment as he walked out, pausing to look over the couch at his boy and confirm he was still sleeping peacefully.

Clay looked back at Danielle, Elton, and Mitch. “You three go the fuck home, huh? Go home—and make sure you lock your doors.”