Chapter Twelve
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ZOE AND GRACE PEERED through the café windows into the dark interior. Zoe cast a glance at Amaros’ receding figure. He loped down the street with masculine grace, ready and willing to kill anyone who posed a threat to them.
“Try to focus, Zoe,” Grace mock scolded her. “You can drool over the hottie after we’ve eaten.”
Zoe gave the teen a wry look, then tried the door. “It’s locked,” she said, unsurprised, yet disappointed. “Maybe we should try the back door. It might be open.”
“I’ve got it,” the teen said and pulled lockpicks out of her pocket. “I told you I’ve got skills,” she said with a grin when Zoe raised her eyebrows. She had the lock open in a couple of minutes, then pushed the door open. “It’s a bit musty, but I can’t smell anything rotten,” she reported.
Stepping inside after her, Zoe closed and locked the door. Just because they couldn’t see anyone else didn’t mean the town was truly deserted. They left the lights off as they made their way to the kitchen. It didn’t have any windows, so they turned the lights on.
“Let’s see what goodies they have on offer,” Grace said, then opened the large metal door to the freezer. “We could live in this place for months if the power stays on,” she marveled.
Zoe stuck her head inside, taking in the metal shelves full of frozen goods. There were hamburger buns, loaves of bread, sausages, beef patties, steaks and a variety of other food. “We can cook some to take with us, but we won’t have electricity, or a fridge to store anything in,” she said.
“How do you know that?” Grace asked as she grabbed some supplies.
“I saw it in a vision,” Zoe replied. “Pretty soon, no one will have power, unless they have generators.”
“Are things really going to get that bad?” the teen asked. She had an armful of food when she strode past.
“According to Pastor Robert,” Zoe said, closing the door again. They worked together to switch on a gas grill and a microwave. Defrosting buns, they cooked patties and ate their burgers in the kitchen. She told her young friend everything the pastor had predicted would happen after the Rapture.
“How will we survive without food and water?” Grace asked in concern. “How will anyone survive? We’re all too used to buying everything we need.”
“Humanity will find a way,” Zoe said. “Governments are already reshuffling and figuring out who will be in charge. Once the chaos dies down, they’ll get everything up and running again.”
“It’s only been a few days since a huge chunk of the population vanished,” Grace said. “I’m glad all of the kids and most of the teenagers were chosen. It would have been cruel to leave them behind to fend for themselves.”
They hadn’t been given a definitive number of how many people were gone yet. No one was organized enough to perform a census. From what they’d seen, there were probably still millions of people roaming the country. Unfortunately, they were all either outright bad, or had questionable souls.
“How can so many people be bad?” Zoe mused as they cleaned up the mess they’d made out of habit.
“Have you met people?” Grace asked incredulously. “A lot of folks I’ve met just pretend to be nice. They’re all scheming on the inside, looking for a way to exploit anyone weaker than they are.”
Her tone was bleak and Zoe remembered the flashes of her past that she’d glimpsed. Grace’s life had been far harder than hers. She’d endured things no kid should ever have to suffer. Kindness was as foreign to her as being hugged.
“Amaros and I aren’t like them,” Zoe said, putting her arm around her shoulder. “We’ll take care of you.”
“I know,” Grace said, brightening a bit. “It’s nice not to be alone anymore.”
They both sensed someone entering the café a moment later. There must be another door they hadn’t spotted on their way in. “That’s not Amaros,” Zoe whispered when she sensed it was a human.
“Come out, thieves!” the person called out. “I saw you come in here! Come out with your hands up.”
“She sounds old,” Grace said speculatively. “I bet we can make a run for it before she even sees us.”
The lights came on in the main area and Zoe gave her a rueful look. “Guess again,” she said.
“I’m taking my chances,” the teen said. Snatching up the bags of food they’d cooked, she ran out into the other room.
Zoe was right on her heels when the kid reached the door. A loud bang made her ears ring and Grace shrieked in pain. She crashed into the door, shattering the glass and ramming it open.
“I got you, you little thief!” the old woman shouted in triumph, then cackled in delight. “Now it’s your friend’s turn!” she declared.
Spinning around, Zoe grabbed a serving tray from a stack on the counter next to the door.
In her late sixties, the woman’s gray hair was wild and unwashed.
Her pale pink cardigan was stained and buttoned haphazardly.
Insane eyes glared at the intruder and she was grinning with evil delight.
The tray was whirling towards her even as she leveled her pistol.
She let out a surprised grunt, then staggered sideways.
Zoe almost threw up at the sight of the tray that was lodged in the hag’s neck.
Making horrible, garbled noises, the gun fell from her hand, then she toppled to the floor.
Grace was groaning and clutching her leg. “The old witch got me,” she said, voice strained with agony.
“Let me see,” Zoe said as she crouched beside her friend. Glass was embedded in her face and arms from crashing into the door. The cuts were fairly shallow, but a few were deeper. Glass began being expelled as her flesh began knitting back together.
“How bad is it?” the teen asked, letting Zoe move her hands aside to take a look at the bullet wound.
“You wouldn’t survive if you were human,” Zoe said. “She hit an artery, but the bleeding is already slowing down.”
“The old bag was aiming at my chest,” Grace complained. “How the hell did she hit me in the leg?”
“Her gun looked kind of heavy,” Zoe joked, hoping to lighten the mood. “I guess she couldn’t hold it up.”
A vehicle roared towards them and Zoe hauled the teen to her feet, ready to flee.
She relaxed when she saw Amaros behind the wheel.
His obsidian eyes were full of rage, ready to vaporize whoever had attacked them.
Screeching to a stop, he exited from the gigantic tanklike truck.
He scanned Zoe first, then his gaze went to the chunks of glass sticking out of Grace.
“You’re very lucky you’re a cambion,” he told her.
“You’d be dead if you were a human. That bullet hit your artery.
” He pointed at the oozing injury on her thigh.
Looking down, the kid made a face. “My tights are ruined, but at least she missed my shorts.”
“Where is she?” Amaros asked, tone hard with purpose.
“She’s dead,” Zoe informed him, trying hard not to think about what she’d done. “I killed her with a serving tray.”
“What a way to go,” Grace joked. “Don’t leave our food behind,” she reminded Zoe. “We should go before anyone comes to investigate the noise.”
“We need to extract the bullet first,” Amaros said. “It might fester if we leave it in your flesh.”
“Ew, I don’t want to rot from the inside,” Grace said, wrinkling her nose.
“There’s got to be a doctor’s office somewhere in town,” Zoe figured.
“I saw one back there,” the knight said, hiking his thumb over his shoulder.
“Why don’t you drive Grace there and I’ll follow you?” Zoe suggested. Their belongings were in her car and she wanted to get away from the café before moving them.
Nodding, Amaros swung Grace off her feet and carried her to the black truck. “My hero!” she said in fake adoration as he deposited her in the front passenger seat.
Snickering despite the shock that was creeping up on her, Zoe grabbed the bags of food Grace had dropped. She hurried to her car and followed the truck for a couple of blocks.
Banners were strung from lampposts, along with signs proclaiming a festival was coming up.
“They won’t be having any festivals here for the foreseeable future,” she murmured.
Fresh sorrow that the world might never be the same again welled up.
Willing it away, she parked behind Amaros and got out of her car.
Grace didn’t get a chance to pick the lock this time. The knight kicked the door open and strode into the doctor’s office. They were lucky the door didn’t have an alarm. Zoe hurried inside and shut the door, which no longer had the capacity to latch.
“Do you have any medical experience?” Grace asked Amaros as he carried her into the examination room.
“I’ve patched up my men when they’ve almost lost their limbs too many times to count,” he said wryly. “I’ve lost arms and legs myself during some of our wars.”
“Did you die?” Zoe asked, horrified at the thought of him being injured so badly.
“Not always,” he replied. “We can continue to fight even with just one arm. It’s more difficult when we lose a leg.”
“What sort of weapons did you use in the past?” Grace queried.
He placed her on the bed, then held out his hand. “We use these to kill Chaos’ soldiers,” he said.
They both gasped when a shiny silver and gold sword appeared in his hand. Several large diamonds adorned it. “Where did that come from?” Zoe asked.
“We’ve always been able to call on Order’s swords,” he said. The weapon vanished and he searched the cupboards for supplies.