Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 38

I placed Joe's folded letter in my pocket.

I never dared to look over the balcony, turning around, and walked back into the apartment. I took a blanket splayed on the couch and covered Daniel's body with it. My stomach roiled around with disgust at the horrible things that just happened. Did Bobby and Natalie leave a father and his kid to die?

The thought alone made me nauseous. I didn't think I'd be able to do what they just did. I hoped I wouldn't. I walked toward the rifle, picked it up, and found the magazine empty.

"Bren, look at this." Logan hauled a duffel bag onto the kitchen island—the NYPD duffel bag.

I swiftly walked over to the kitchen with the rifle and opened the bag, found more ammunition for the weapon I had in my hand. However, the second shotgun and the other LAR-15 were missing, and I guessed Bobby and Nat had them. There was only one box left of the 5.56 mm rounds, as well as one box of unused twenty-five shotgun shells. I distinctly remembered there were three boxes of the latter, but Bobby probably had the rest.

I took out the rifle's magazine and loaded the bullets, which filled up at 20 rounds. I handed it to Logan. I took two shotgun shells and placed it on the side saddle holster, and my weapon now carried twelve full rounds on it, six in the chamber and six on the saddle.

"Hey, wanna talk about it?" Logan said, nodding to the balcony.

"We'll talk about it once we get out of here," I said, taking four extra shells and placed them in my pockets. My fingers grazed on Joe's letter, and I froze, trying not to think about them. "He made his choice. There's nothing we can do about it now."

"I just hoped he...but he's infected, right? He got bitten."

"Yes. What happened to your ax?" I asked.

"I have to leave it behind. I have no way of carrying it back down."

I pointed at the rifle. "You got an upgrade, at least."

I zipped up the bag and carried it on my back. I sauntered toward the front door adjacent to the kitchen layout and remembered the vectors, and even with us packing heat already, ten vectors swarming all at once was risky. I thought about using the door as a bottleneck. Then again, aside from our bullets, there was no stopping a couple of them from slipping through and taking out our flank.

And I didn't want Bobby and Natalie to know about us yet. If they heard shooting, they might run away or use the chaos to slip past us. After all, the elevator was right beside them, much closer than the stairwell. They already believed Joe and Daniel were dead. With the vectors out on the hall, they were also stuck in apartment 2001, just like us.

I watched the doorknob, heard a vector scraping the door, and the doorknob started rattling languidly, the vector testing if it was unlocked again. Silence, then the vector shuffled away. I motioned for Logan to stand behind me and held my finger up to my lips.

I gently pushed him on his chest against the coat closet's door, and I settled against the tiled wall; the duffel beg pressed uncomfortably on my lower back. I tried to ignore it. I reached for the bolt and unlocked the door quietly.

It took a minute, maybe two, for the vector to approach the door again, tentatively grasping the doorknob. It turned, and the unmistakable click of locks unbolting resounded, and I held my breath, afraid that if they heard it, they'd find us.

The door pushed open, and I was thankful that the hinges were silent. I pushed further against the wall as the door was almost a few inches away from my face.

The vector stepped in.

One.

Two.

Three.