Page 25 of Redemption (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #4)

I turn to Baylor, a grin lifting on my face as I heave out a breath, my lungs starving for oxygen.

“We did it.” The words are soft but said with enough elation and relief that he hears them, returning my smile but remaining quiet as he catches his breath along with me.

Unable to stop myself, I pull him in for a half hug, patting his back as relief washes over me. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

A few minutes later, we round a bend, my steps lighter and more full of life than I’ve felt in a while.

It’s funny... how alive you feel after outrunning death so many times.

It makes me think of all the things I want to do with the time I have left, as well as everything I’ve come to regret in my life.

Alessandra.

Mi Alma.

I absolutely and truly fucked up when it came to her.

I’ve known this, but after everything, the truth of the matter is blinding now.

I should have never left her there at that airport.

Looking back, I would have done everything differently.

Would have married her the second I got out of bootcamp.

The second I saw how strong she was for making it through three months of an overly ambitious pen pal relationship.

I should have known then that she could do anything she set her mind to.

Including being the wife to an insufferable Marine grunt.

While I wish she were here with me right now so I could hold her and tell her just how much I love her, I’m actually happy she’s in New York. That means she’s as far away from this bullshit as she can pretty much be.

Which means she should be safe, wherever she is.

And at this point, that’s enough for me.

Baylor, keeping in step with me, pulls his girl’s picture from his blouse pocket, fingering the worn edges while looking fondly down at her.

“Excited to get back to her? Now that we’re away from Waverly—and from how empty the base is, I’m pretty sure the mandated shutdown is over—nothing’s holding you back. You can go to her. Make sure she’s ok.”

I can see his throat jump with a gulp and his eyes narrow as they remain fixed on the Polaroid, but after a moment he blinks himself out of his rapt focus and turns his gaze back to mine, a small lift to the side of his mouth. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sure I’ll see her soon enough.”

I clap a hand on his back, picking up the pace. Our excitement for a hopeful reunion with our girls driving us to the end.

After another mile or so, the main gate comes into view... along with, what seems like, every single member of base personnel. Thousands of suited-up Marines stand shoulder to shoulder, blocking the exit and the length of the fence line as far as the eye can see.

“Maybe it’s to keep people from going AWOL during the shutdown?” Baylor suggests, but it’s not until we edge closer that we realize what we’re actually up against.

Death fills their eyes.

Every single one of them is covered in blood, their faces perpetually set in gruesome, snarling, ravenous hunger.

And then they see us.

It’s slow at first, their advance. From a crawl to a lumbering jog, they fight one another to get to us.

Stunned, we stand there, frozen in fear and unsure of what to do.

We can’t go back. Waverly and his team might find us and no doubt kill us for desertion.

We could try for another exit. The lines of ranks go for what seems like miles, but base is huge, which means there should be a gap in the horde somewhere. We just have to find it.

Then again, those deadheads were stationed on base right along with us.

Fought against the same shit we did. That’s a lot of fucking Marines.

Could our depressing little group actually be the only survivors left?

If that’s the case, then there are hundreds of thousands of Infected to go up against, spread out along the entire interior of those gates and probably outside of them as well.

Not to mention those wandering the streets or trapped within the buildings.

Impossible odds to overcome.

But we can hope for a chance at a lucky break.

Unfortunately, that hope is lost as more Infected file out from the tree line. A swarm of them bracket the street on both sides about a half mile down the road at our backs, cutting off our escape.

We’re outflanked.

Death’s just a klick away, no matter how we look at it.

Shit.

Think, dammit. What the fuck do we do?

Fuck it, at this point any idea is better than nothing.

I grip Baylor’s shoulder, hauling him over to the other side of the road and the opposite tree line to retreat and regroup. “Baylor! We gotta go. We can’t stay here. We.... There’s got to be an opening somewhere. If we can just—"

But he doesn’t move. Not a single step towards the safety I’m trying to pull him to. Confused, I step in front of him, grabbing his arms and shaking him to try and get him to snap out of it, but he just laughs at me. A straight-up, deep-chested, eyes closed and fully in the moment ... laugh.

And then he stops, opens his eyes, and stares right at me.

“Baylor, what the fuck? Let’s go!”

“It’s gonna be ok, Cruz.” A sense of calm radiates from him. No fear. No trembling palms to match my own. Just complete and total serenity.

My eyes go wide. “What the fuck do you mean? We gotta get outta here!”

His words are soft and relaxed as he says, “You should take the river to the west. The way to get there should be relatively clear when I’m done.”

Movement at his sides draws my attention, and my mouth drops open in awe as he lifts the picture of his girl in one hand and, in the other, a handful of grenades from his cargo pocket.

“Where in the fuck did you get those?” I ask, eyes wide at what he’s not saying.

“Swiped ‘em from the bunker shed before we left. I had a gut feeling that told me I shouldn’t turn ‘em over. Kinda happy I didn’t.” He smiles again, chuckling to himself under his breath.

His tired eyes roam over mine, but a second later, with the sounds of crescendoing growls and snarls upon us, he pushes me away. “Go. Be with your girl, Cruz.”

I stop him, staring into his eyes bewildered. “What about your girl, Baylor? You gotta get back to yours, too!”

He lowers his eyes, scanning the picture still held in his fingers. “I’ll get to her soon enough. Don’t you worry.”

“How the fuck are you going to do that if you want me to leave your ass here?”

His bittersweet gaze lifts up to meet mine.

“She was a finalist in the Georgia Peach competition when she was younger. Did you know that? She was so beautiful. And she loved my ugly ass. I have no idea why, but she did.” His gaze returns to the photo, his lips pursing as his thumb traces the curves of her face.

“I miss her so much. But I know she’s gone now.

No one in Georgia could’ve survived what we did.

Not at ground zero. Hell, we barely did, and we’re nowhere near it.

” A rogue tear falls from his eye as he looks back up to me, conviction in his stance.

“I can’t do this anymore. It fucking hurts.

I don’t want to fight anymore. Not when she’s gone.

What’s the fucking point of it all if she’s not with me in the end?

” He takes a deep breath and turns away, stepping farther onto the road while staring down the legion of death coming directly at us.

“Go. Find your girl. Live. And love her like you were meant to do all along.” He presses a soft kiss to the photo before stashing it in his blouse pocket, then looks back to me.

Happiness and wonder fill his gaze as a smile brightens his face for the first time in weeks.

“I’ll see you on the other side, brother,” he says confidently with a quick nod before he throws me to the ground and turns, running straight for the horde.

Caught off guard, my body meets the pavement, the harsh surface scraping against my hands and face, but it doesn’t stop me. Immediately, I press myself back up, needing to stop him. To save him.

To not lose him like all the others.

Once I’m back on my feet, I reach for him, wanting to haul him back to my side and convince him to stay. If only for one more day. One single fucking day. But he’s too fast, too determined to complete the task. He’s already over halfway there.

In a single resigned breath, I lower my extended hand and let him go.

My respect for the man that knows without a doubt what he wants in this world overflows within me as his advancing form diminishes towards the undead army.

It takes every bit of restraint I have to not scream his name and stop his momentum but, as I watch him close the distance, I remind myself this is what he wanted.

His last wish: to be reunited with the girl of his dreams, and a chance for me to survive and make this right with the girl of mine.

His feet pound the pavement as he heads directly for the center of the swarm.

No reluctance. No hesitation. Just grit and resolve propelling him forward on his chosen path as a warrior’s call bellows from his lungs, overpowering any other sound that can be heard in the area.

I follow his trajectory, catching one last glimpse before they swarm him, surrounding his body with death and chaos, and then. ..

BOOM!

With his final act, Baylor successfully detonated all of his grenades at once, killing himself instantly while opening up a large enough gap in the swarm that I’m able to charge ahead through the masses, race through the trees, and dive head first into the river without any of them becoming aware of my presence.

Until Valhalla, brother....

∞∞∞

I slam my knife into the last of the swarm. They came on strong and fast. Too fast.

After taking a moment to silently say goodbye to Baylor and successfully escaping the base, I had three main directives I needed to fulfill before I even thought about stopping for a break.