The path had rolled downhill for nearly an hour. Jubal’s neck and shoulders burned from carrying the front end of the makeshift stretcher. Although the descent meant Jubal was carrying the heaviest weight, Seth, the boy, had not complained. Amara had offered to fill in for Seth, but it was clear to Jubal that the wounds inflicted upon her by the killer from the church were still troubling her.
They reached the bottom of the hill and came to a flat clearing. Jubal saw that in a hundred yards or so the path wound up the side of the next hill, a steep incline surrounded by many rocks and sparse vegetation.
“Let’s take a breather here,” MacKenzie Templeton said from just ahead of Jubal.
“I can keep going,” Jubal said.
Templeton nodded. “I’m sure you can. But I need a moment.” He sat down on the ground and leaned against a small sapling.
Jubal turned his head slightly and said, “Seth, let’s put her down slowly.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said.
They gently lowered the stretcher to the ground. The relief to Jubal’s muscles was immediate. He knelt next to Heather. Her eyes remained closed, but her breathing was normal. At least he thought so. He prayed the doctor in Sanctuary could do something for her.
If they ever got there. The trip seemed to be taking longer than Templeton had stated.
Seth plopped down next to Templeton. The old man put his arm around the boy’s shoulders.
“Better get some fresh arms for the trip uphill,” Templeton said.
“I’ll be fine,” Jubal said.
“I’m sure you will. Still, the climb is a steep one. You’ll have to change carriers at least a couple of times or risk dropping that precious burden of yours.”
“My mommy’s not a burden.” Robin had approached quietly and arrived just in time to hear the last exchange.
Templeton smiled. “Of course not, little miss. I meant that the woman on that stretcher is precious to all of you, especially yourself.”
“Oh,” Robin said. The look of anger disappeared form her face. She sat down next to the stretcher and held her mother’s hand. Jubal put his hand atop Robin’s. After a quiet moment, he stood up.
Ned, Mother and Nestor all sat on the ground. Nestor and Mother were engaged in conversation while Ned stared numbly at the sky. Salina wasn’t sitting. She paced the clearing like a caged animal.
The thought of her tagging along to Sanctuary troubled Jubal, even though there wasn’t much he could do about it now. Leaving her behind wouldn’t be right. Better that she remained where he could watch her.
Jubal left Robin with Heather and turned to the tree where the old man and the boy rested. He sat down facing the pair.
“Seems we’ve gone a couple of miles farther than you said we would,” Jubal said.
Templeton nodded. “We have. While the town is within three miles of the river, I chose to take a circuitous route.”
“Why?”
“The Damned.”
“They’re bad news, Mr. Slate,” Seth said.
“Yeah, I sort of figured that out.”
“They roam a big territory,” Templeton said. “And while they suspect we have a settlement, they don’t know exactly where it is. We aim to keep it that way.”
Jubal picked up a stick and used it to absently brush aside some dirt and gravel.
“You seem like a careful man,” Jubal said.
“I try to be.”
“So why did you welcome us so easily?”
Seth looked at Templeton. The old man returned the gaze. Finally, he said, “I trust my gut, Jubal. It’s been my best tool for survival in this changed world. Also, you were attacked by the Damned. If they’re against you that makes you all right in my book.”
Jubal nodded, though he wasn’t satisfied by the answer.
“I’d like to know more about the Damned.”
“Criminals, psychopaths, miscreants,” Templeton said. “Men and women of weak character, using the disaster to satisfy their need for chaos and bloodletting.”
“How many of them?”
“I don’t know. A dozen, two maybe.”
“When they go out patrolling their territory, how many are usually in a squad?”
“Don’t know that either.”
“Do you know where they’re based?”
Templeton shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jubal. I really don’t. But there are those in Sanctuary who know more about the Damned. You can get your questions answered there. But I think once you’ve settled in, you aren’t going to be so worried about enemies.”
Right, Jubal thought. Like that will ever happen.
“Okay, then,” he said, “how far is it, really, to your town?”
Templeton pointed to the path that snaked up the hillside. “We follow that for three-quarters of a mile. It slopes down the other side for a few hundred yards and we’re there.”
Despite his unease, Jubal felt a tingle of anticipation. After so long, they were almost to Sanctuary. If only Tommy Cho could have lived to see it.
Templeton leaned forward to touch Jubal’s arm. “It’s real, Jubal. Sanctuary is just what the name promises.”
Jubal wanted to believe it. For Heather and Robin and the rest. And, selfishly, for himself. It seemed like he’d been on the road forever. Fighting zombies, the necros and that insane Luther Kemp. All he wanted was a peaceful place to settle down. To rest without being on guard every second. He’d thought that kind of peace would never happen.
And now…
Then why was he so goddamned suspicious? Maybe he’d seen so much that hope had been beaten out of him.
Maybe it was time to have a little faith. Just a little.
“Okay,” he said. “You and Seth here have accepted us. But how do we know your neighbors will?”
“They will, Jubal. Trust me. They’ll greet you and the others with open arms.”
Templeton was so sincere that Jubal felt most of his resistance fading away.
Most of it. Some things would probably never change.
He stood up.
“Break’s over,” he said. “We have a woman who needs help.”
Seth jumped to his feet. It took MacKenzie Templeton a few seconds to stand.
“Old bones,” he said with a smile.
Jubal turned to the others. “I need two fresh carriers for the stretcher.”
“Ned and I will do it,” Salina said. Ned stared at her like he didn’t understand her words.
Jubal didn’t want both of them carrying Heather. It was probably irrational, but he would feel better with one of his own people helping.
“How about Ned and Mother?”
Salina’s face was devoid of emotion when she said, “Fine.”
She shoved Ned toward the stretcher. He stooped to grab the tent poles at Heather’s feet.
“Nope,” Mother said, coming up from behind him. “You take the front.”
“How come?” Ned’s words came out like the man was drugged.
“Ain’t it obvious? I don’t want you behind me.”
* * *
Jubal wondered if they’d reach the town by nightfall. The sun was setting on the green horizon, its color affected by the lingering alien atmosphere, turning the orb a sickly yellow. Everyone dragged their feet and looked ready to drop, even with the promise of a new life just beyond the hill. But they kept moving, kept climbing and soon they were at the top. Jubal stepped forward and looked down upon their new home.
And he nearly stumbled back down the hill.
Below him, a hundred yards or so beyond the bottom of the hill, was a line which stretched from as far as he could see to the west all the way to the east, where it became lost to sight behind hills and sprawling forest. And this line that stretched from horizon to horizon was made up of the shrieking, moaning, walking dead.
The old man stepped up alongside him. “Yep. Ain’t that a sight?”
“What the fuck, Mac?” Jubal turned on the old man, his voice rising. He grabbed a fistful of Templeton’s shirt and drew his other hand back in a fist.
“Hold on. Wait,” the old man hissed. “And keep it down or they’ll hear you.” He put his hand on Jubal’s shoulder and pushed him down into the tall grass where they both squatted, watching the zombies below shuffle about with not one stepping out of line.
Jubal tried to see what the dead were doing but he was too far away to make out anything for certain. Though he did notice one thing: they were at least three deep, all the way down the column.
He turned back before the others could crest the hill and waved them down into the grass. Seeing their leader hunkered there, it didn’t take them long to get the message. They all dropped, staring at him with questions in their eyes.
“Now,” Templeton said, a little breathless, “we don’t go straight through that line, see. That would be suicide. Instead, we head off to the west and, within the woods there, is a tunnel. That’s how we get past them things and into town.”
“We go under them?”
The old man grinned from ear to ear, proud of his secret passage.
He had said nothing about the zombies before, no warning, no nothing. There was definitely something wrong with this guy, like maybe he had a few screws loose. For Jubal, he was just a bit too secretive.
Jubal glanced down at the line of zombies and the hairs on his body stood erect. This reminded him too much of the undead armies that the necros had used to do their bidding. Jubal looked at the sky, expecting to see a couple fliers there, the strange craft the necros used to patrol from above, but there was nothing to see but an emerald dusk coming on.
So why were the dead down below in such perfect formation?
Jubal wanted to ask Templeton about the orderly zombies but he’d had enough of that old man for the moment. If he confronted him now, he might lose what remained of his self-control and wind up strangling the old coot. Instead, he crept back to where his crew squatted in the grass and let them know the situation. When he had finished filling them in, most of them looked as angry as he was.
Before long, weapons drawn, they crept down the hill in the direction Templeton had indicated, the old man and his grandson taking the lead.
Instead of carrying Heather down the hill in his arms, Mother slid her along the grassy surface using the nylon tent as a sled.
As they moved farther downhill, Jubal glanced over and noticed something he hadn’t before. All the zombies down there were facing away; they did not face his group and the hill at all, not even one of them. Instead, they looked toward whatever lay beyond the forested distance. In fact, he could hear their anguished, frustrated moans, as though they yearned to enter the trees but were prevented from doing so.
Then it hit him.
Sanctuary had a force field around it!
But before Jubal could speculate further on his discovery, Ned began screaming like a banshee: “Fucking dead fuckers!” The soldier had more to say but it only came out as a strangled cry, receding quickly away as he pulled his handgun and began to run down the hill, firing into the line of zombies.
“Fuck!” Jubal spat. “Everybody get down!”
Salina gave him a momentary, defiant look but instead of sprinting after her last friend in the world, she squatted down in the grass and strained to see what the walking dead would do next.
“We got to keep moving!” Templeton said from where he sat next to Jubal, his voice nearly a whine. “Those things will come after us now.” The old man was wheezing and he looked like he was about to shit his pants. His grandson didn’t seem much better, his eyes about ready to pop from his pale face.
Jubal looked down the hill where Ned’s bald head and shoulders bobbed just above the tall grass, the bullets from his gun whizzing at the undead as he scolded them.
The long, deadly snake made of living dead people broke apart as they discovered something more interesting than the invisible barrier. They shambled, crawled and stumbled toward Ned.
The suicidal maniac bolted straight toward the mob, sacrificing himself for reasons only he understood.
“All right,” Jubal said loudly enough so everyone could hear. “Haul ass! Follow Mac down the hill and move as fast as you can. Especially you, old man. Don’t you dare hold us up!”
They did as their leader ordered, scrambling down the hill after the old man, no longer trying to stay hidden, just running for their lives, retreating from the greatest number of zombies Jubal had ever seen gathered in one place.
Even though Mother had to drag Heather behind him, he was keeping up with the rest of them, with one eye on the old man and the other on his burden so that the woman didn’t slide off the sled in all the commotion.
Robin, tears streaming down her face, kept her lips pressed together in a line, trying not to scream so as not to attract undue attention to the group. She was Jubal’s little soldier and he was proud of her.
But soon the girl began to fall behind.
Jubal grabbed her hand, threw her a quick smile and gently pulled her along.
From behind—where he dare not look again—among the hungry moans of the ravenous mob came the screams of one lone man. His gun fired twice more, but soon both Ned’s screams and his weapon were silenced, and all that could be heard thereafter were the groans and cries of the monsters.
When they reached the bottom of the hill, Templeton took off into the trees, dragging his grandson alongside him.
Jubal looked around and found someone missing. Still running, he turned his head to find Nestor shuffling along behind them, his face bright red. It appeared he was ready to drop.
“You go ahead with the rest of them,” Jubal said to Robin, letting go of her hand. “I have to help Nestor.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue with me! Just follow Mother.”
She nodded and took off, a sob escaping as she peeled away.
Jubal ran back, quickly closing the distance between himself and the overweight baker. He grabbed Nestor’s shoulder. “C’mon, man. I need you to move. We’re almost there.”
Nestor could not speak. He bent over and grabbed his knees, gasping for breath.
Jubal looked up and watched as a swarming mass of dead people, numerous enough to fill his vision, moved forward as fast as their decaying limbs could carry them.
Jubal grabbed Nestor’s hand and pulled him toward the trees. “Move! Now!”
Nestor allowed himself to be pulled along; the man was heavier than he looked and was slowing Jubal down, but there was no way Jubal was going to leave the man behind, even if he had to pull him along the ground like Mother did Heather.
“Keep moving, buddy! We’re almost there.”
Jubal thanked God that dead men were slow-moving.
* * *
Salina followed the old man to a spot where the terrain began to gradually rise. It would have been a nice setting, if not for the flesh-eating dead and the screams of the last member of her team.
Slate had been right to keep her from following Ned. Jumping into the fight was simply instinct on her part. Ned wasn’t her favorite person in the world, but he’d followed her loyally, and she always took care of her people. Leaving Ned to his fate was a decision she would have arrived at on her own, given another second or two. There was nothing to be gained in dying today. And she didn’t have the firepower to take on a zombie army.
She tried to feel something for Ned. He’d been losing it for a while, even back in Chicago. In the back of her mind had been the idea that she’d eventually have to cut him loose, one way or another, before his crazy shit caused a problem. Now the decision had been taken out of her hands.
She wasn’t surprised that she didn’t grieve for Ned. What surprised Salina was the sudden onset of loneliness. She knew she could rely on herself—she would always be one tough bitch. But the last remnant of her old life had been taken away. She was in the midst of people who didn’t know her and didn’t trust her. And a couple of them probably wanted to kill her. She was truly a stranger here.
Not that it would matter once she discovered the secret of Sanctuary.
If there was a secret.
For a zombie-free zone, the place was thick with dead fuckers.
“How much longer, gramps? Those hungry monsters will be here in a minute and it’s getting dark fast.”
Templeton was out of breath. Whether from fear or exertion she didn’t know. Or care.
“Seth, give me a hand,” he said.
The boy helped the old man clear away brush from a point where the hill began to incline. Once removed, a metal hatch was revealed. It had a wheel in the center of it, which the old man began turning.
“Want me to do that?” Salina said, aware of the closing undead forces.
“Let me get this open and we’ll be fine,” Templeton said. “Once we’re beyond the shield they can’t get us.”
The shield. Salina took a second to absorb that little nugget.
So it was true. These eggheads had devised a way to protect themselves from the zombies, to keep the beasts out. She wasn’t a scientist, but it only made sense that something that repelled the zombies could be used to herd them. Guide them. All she had to do was figure out which geek knew how this particular feat was accomplished. And she had no doubt she would find out. When she put her mind to it, she could be quite charming. And pretty goddamned persuasive.
With a grunt, the old man pulled open the hatch. Through the opening, Salina saw a corridor with rounded metal walls, like a tube. Fluorescent lights mounted in the ceiling illuminated the path.
They had electricity too. Hell’s bells.
“Lead the way, gramps,” she said.
“Seth, you take them through. I’ll stay here to lock the hatch.”
Salina shrugged. She started through the opening.
“Hold up.”
Mother was behind her, hauling Heather.
“Grab the other end of this. The ride’s been bumpy enough for her.”
Right. Like the unconscious bitch had any idea what was happening around her.
Okay, time to start practicing the charm.
“Sure,” she said. “Glad to help.”
She walked past Mother, who looked at her with one eyebrow arched. Salina smiled. She lifted her end of the stretcher. “Ready.”
As they moved forward, MacKenzie Templeton said, “You’ll feel a tingle as you enter the corridor. That’s just the shield. Don’t worry about it.”
They followed the kid into the tube. Just past the entrance she did feel something. It was like the build up of electricity before a thunderstorm. The tingle quickly passed and she thought there had to be more to repelling the dead than just a static charge.
But she would find out, one way or another.
She hoped the head “brainiac” in this place was a fan of hot Latinas.
* * *
Jubal ran, one hand gripping Nestor’s wrist, the other his Desert Eagle. In the distance he could see the others clustered around the base of a hill. He hoped to God that they were near the entrance to Sanctuary. He wasn’t sure how much farther Nestor could run.
The baker lost his footing and fell to the ground, pulling Jubal down on top of him. Nestor’s breath was forced from his lungs by the impact.
Jubal looked up just in time to see the first zombie reach them.
When living, the man might have been a weightlifter. In death, the barrel chest and large arms were still prominent. The dead man opened those arms wide, his mouth opening and closing convulsively. He was close enough that Jubal could smell the rot.
Jubal was surprised to find that he had maintained his grip on the Desert Eagle. He raised the gun and put a .44 Magnum slug in the center of the beast’s face. The zombie dropped on top of Nestor’s head. The fat baker began to squirm, his scream muffled by the corpse.
“Hang on,” Jubal said. He climbed off Nestor and pulled the dead man’s body to the ground.
“Oh Jesus oh Jesus oh Jesus,” Nestor said.
The rest of the zombies were almost on them.
“Get up,” Jubal said.
“Oh Jesus,” Nestor said.
“Fine.” Jubal stood. “I’m going to Sanctuary. It’s been nice knowing you.”
“Huh?” Nestor rolled onto his side. “Help me up.”
Jubal extended a hand. He only caught a glimpse of a fast-moving shape a split second before it struck him.
The zombie hit him hard, throwing him to the ground and sending the pistol tumbling over the ground.
Jubal had only seen a few zombies move that fast. They were usually the newly dead, and while they couldn’t move as fast as a human, their speed could be disarming, especially when compared to the slow, steady shamble of their reanimated brethren.
He landed on his stomach, though the snapping of the monster’s jaws had him rolling over onto his back as fast as he could. He managed to get the palms of his hands against the monstrosity’s chest just as those yellowed teeth snapped inches from his face.
And it wasn’t until he felt the soft tissue beneath his fingers, that he realized the zombie had been a woman, a good sized gal from the look of her. In her lifetime, she hadn’t missed many meals. Now Jubal had to find a way to keep from becoming her next snack.
He looked around for his gun or a sharp stick or anything he could use for a weapon. The rifle was inaccessible across his back, digging into his shoulder.
The dead woman was strong. He knew he couldn’t reach for anything. If he stopped pushing her away, she would make a feast of his flesh. On the other hand, if he did nothing, his arms would soon tire and that would be that.
He stared into the blank white eyes, afraid to look away. He barely noticed when the barrel of his Desert Eagle appeared next to the corpse’s left ear.
With a thundering bang, the right side of the woman’s head exploded outward, drenching Jubal in brains and bone and what passed for blood in these creatures. The corpse, now truly and forever dead, slumped atop Jubal. He rolled her away and stood, wiping the gore from his face and arms.
Nestor was next to him, holding the big pistol in a shaking hand.
“Did I do all right?”
“Yeah,” Jubal said, reclaiming his gun. “Thanks. Now move your ass.”
The leading line of zombies was only a few yards away. Jubal prayed there were no more speed demons among them. They ran for the hill. Nestor, now motivated perhaps by the pursuing undead hordes, nearly kept pace with Jubal.
A door opened in the earth, and next to it Mackenzie Templeton waved them in. The others had apparently gone on ahead.
To Sanctuary.
Ten yards from the entrance, Nestor fell again, he groaned with pain.
“My ankle,” he said. Jubal pulled the man to his feet and draped an arm over his shoulder. Nestor had to hop on one foot. What had been a healthy lead over the approaching zombies had turned into an uncertain race for their lives. Jubal didn’t dare waste time turning to see how close the monsters were. Their unholy moans sounded mere inches away.
Templeton’s face grew pale. He stopped waving. Jubal could read the indecision on his face: should he wait for them or close the hatch now and leave Jubal and Nestor to their fate?
Before the old man had to make that decision, Amara stepped out of the tunnel. She held Mother’s Shredder.
“Duck,” she said.
Jubal and Nestor dropped to the ground. Jubal heard the blistering explosions from the automatic weapon and the distinctive sound of hot metal striking dead meat.
Then Amara was shoving them into the opening and he heard the heavy door close behind them.
“Christ Almighty,” Templeton said. The man looked nervous.
“Sorry about that, old-timer,” Jubal said, helping Nestor up from where he’d stumbled. “Ned has been through a lot lately and I guess he just couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Well, never mind that. The dead will never get through that door now that it’s closed. You can only open it with a key card and we don’t hand those out to just anyone.” Mac placed a hand flat on his shirt. Jubal assumed a key card hung on a chain around the old man’s neck.
Dim lights in thin strips shed minimal light down the tunnel. The walls were concrete with rust-tinged metal grating covering the floor so that their footfalls clanged and echoed about them as they moved forward.
“Won’t be long now before you’re in a warm bed with a bellyful of food,” the old man said.
“Hell yeah,” Mother replied and began stomping his way down the tunnel, his footfalls echoing all around them.
The others followed the large man, the sound of their feet a swirl of clanging racket. When they had gone a hundred yards, Mother stopped and everyone else followed suit.
Jubal could see why the big man had halted. The tunnel continued straight ahead but there was a second opening to the left.
“What’s down there?” Mother said, pointing.
“Oh, that tunnel doesn’t go anywhere,” Templeton said. “Dead end. You want to keep going straight; that’s the way into town.”
Mother grunted and continued on as did the others.
When he came alongside the entrance to the side tunnel, Jubal glanced down into its depths. There was no lighting there and all was pitch black. The hairs rose on his neck as he continued past the opening; he put his reaction down to stress and over-exertion. Even so, he glanced back over his shoulder as the group moved along, but there was nothing to see but a black hole. As he looked away from the side tunnel, Jubal spied Amara doing the same thing. She looked like she had seen a ghost. And with her abilities, maybe she had.
He raised his eyebrows at her but she just shook her head and shrugged as they continued on.
After a time, everyone halted, their progress blocked by three men holding shotguns. The biggest and toughest of them who happened to be standing between the other two stepped forward. “Who you got here, Mac?” the man said, his voice a cool rumble in the close confines of the tunnel.
Templeton pushed past Mother. “Some folks who are beat up pretty bad, Lauren. This woman here requires emergency medical attention.”
The man called Lauren looked down at Heather, who was still unconscious, and nodded once. “That’s fine. Dr. Sims will be happy to see some new faces around here.”
“We’ll be happy to see him too,” Nestor said. “Mac says you guys have a kitchen and everything.”
“That we do,” Lauren said. “But before you go any further, folks, I’ll have to ask you to do me a favor.”
“What’s that?” Mother said.
“Please hand over your weapons.”
“What?” Mother bellowed, his voice bouncing all around them. “Hell no I ain’t giving up my weapons. You must think we’re crazy.”
Jubal stepped forward. “My friend’s right. This isn’t like old times anymore. We need to protect ourselves, sanctuary or no.”
“Damn straight,” spat Salina, touching the handgun holstered at her hip.
Lauren nodded again, appearing not to take any of the hostility personally. “Well, that’s your right and I understand your feelings, I truly do. Only thing is, we have rules in Sanctuary. And if you don’t give up your weapons, well, you’ll just have to turn yourselves around and old Mac there will show you back outside.”
Everyone’s voices rose in anger as Jubal stood by and shook his head. He let the verbal abuse go on for a minute or two and then held up his hands. “Hold on, hold on!”
When he had everyone’s attention, he continued. “I say, let’s give them our weapons; we’ve all come too far to go back now. And besides, what is there left outside for us? Lives on the run from hungry dead people, that’s what—or worse.”
“Uh uh,” Mother said, shaking his head. “I don’t care what you say, Jubal. This shit stinks.”
“Don’t all of you have to leave,” Lauren said. “Some of you can stay. Those who want to enter Sanctuary and enjoy all its luxuries, zombie-free, allow us to hold your weapons for you. Everyone else can just follow old Mac back down the tunnel there and no hard feelings.”
Silence fell and all eyes were on Jubal. Even Salina watched to see what he’d do next. But before he could make a decision, Nestor stepped forward and held out his gun to Lauren.
“Here’s mine. I’m not going back out there no matter what anyone says. You have to be crazy to live out there. And I’m sorry everyone, but I just can’t take it anymore.”
Lauren took the gun from Nestor and handed it back to one of his men. “Okay, you are free to enter. Please stand to the side for now until we find out what the rest of your friends have decided.”
Jubal felt a tugging at his hand. He looked down into the dark-ringed eyes of Robin. She had been through hell, just like the rest of them, and looked ready to drop where she stood.
“Mommy needs a doctor.”
Jubal nodded and touched the back of her head. “You’re right, kiddo. She does.”
Holding Robin’s hand, he stepped forward and handed over, not just his Desert Eagle, but his father’s sniper rifle as well. The same one he had used to drop Luther Kemp.
Robin didn’t have any weapons and so they were both directed to stand beside Nestor, who looked ecstatic about their decision, against the tunnel wall.
Amara followed suit, leaving only Mother and Salina as holdouts. Both glared at the Sanctuary men blocking their path and Jubal wondered if there was going to be a shoot-out right here in this underground tunnel—which would be a damned stupid thing, what with a wounded woman in their midst. He knew Mother would never harm Heather purposely. Hopefully, in his anger, the big man would realize that bullets flying in these close quarters would do more harm than good.
As for Salina, he was never sure what that wildcat would do.
“Ah, what the fuck,” Mother muttered and handed Lauren the Shredder. “I have a knife in my boot. Y’all want that too?”
“No, no. This will do. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Mother approached Jubal and the rest, dragging Heather gently behind him. He hadn’t forgotten about her, which would have been easy enough to do in this stressful situation.
Robin reached up with her free hand and held Mother’s thick forefinger.
“That’s right. I ain’t leaving my best girl behind.”
That left only Salina. The suspense mounted as she tried to stare Lauren down.
“Oh, fine!” she said, finally breaking the tension and handing over her weapons. “Besides, I don’t know what Nestor would do without me.” She smiled at the baker and gave him a broad wink.
“That everybody?” Lauren said, looking down the tunnel.
“Sure is,” Templeton said, a look of relief expanding his face.
“All right then, folks.” Lauren said as he led them forward. His men followed behind, weighed down with weaponry.
“Welcome to Sanctuary.”