This Would Be Paradise (Book 3)

Chapter 10

My body refused to move at first as my brain processed the voice I had just heard. "John?" I got up and my eyes landed on that familiar, worn cowboy hat and a face I'd thought I'd never see again.

John smiled. "Thank God we found you!"

I took a hesitant step forward. "How?"

"When you went missin', we knew somthin' had happened. We questioned," John's eyes narrowed, "Wyatt. He eventually caved and told us where you'd been taken."

Us? I looked further out the destroyed window to see Ethan. I stiffened as he cast me a sorrowful smile, his rifle pointing at the ground.

"Bailey, I-"

"I don't want to hear it!" I yelled.

His mouth fell open and he stepped forward, about to say something, but I cut him off again, "Don't you fucking dare," I hissed through clenched teeth. "I don't want to hear your excuses."

Ethan stopped in his tracks and looked down at the carnage coated ground. John held up his hand. "Hey, hey, let's save this for later, okay? We need to get outta here first."

Ethan must have told John about his betrayal.

"Who's that?" Rose demanded from the ceiling space.

John's head flew up to spot Rose's face poking out of the empty panel space.

"My name's John, ma'am," John said as he tipped his hat.

I almost rolled my eyes. John was right, though; we needed to put everything aside so we could escape. Leo and George had gotten up while we were talking and were staring at our saviors.

"How'd you get in?" Leo asked.

"We broke into the basement and shut down the generators, then made our way upstairs," John said.

"Did you run into any people shooting at you?" I asked. Maybe they had taken out the rest of the guards.

"A few."

Tough-Guy jumped down from the ceiling panels, rolling and swearing as he hit the floor. Leo helped Rose down while George and I removed the desk from the door. Once we opened it, John shouldered his AR-15 and rushed to give me a hug. When we let go, he looked me up and down. "You injured?"

"My foot is." I left out all the other various sore spots from all the fighting the guards. I had a nice bruise on my stomach from being kneed by the guard earlier and I'm sure John could see my black eye.

"Can you run?"

I nodded. "I'll be fine."

"You wouldn't happen to have any spare weapons on you, would ya?" Tough-Guy interrupted.

"Just the one."

John pulled a handgun from his waist-line and passed it to me. It was my Beretta. I ejected the magazine; it was full.

Tough-Guy leaned down and picked up my discarded bed frame piece. "Guess you won't be needin' this then."

"All yours," I said.

We walked out of the office, jumping over the piles of infected. Amelia's men must have grabbed a bunch on their last round-up trip. Bet they're regretting that now.

"This way," John instructed. "We can leave the same way we got in."

We followed him down the corridor and took another left. The emergency lights were beginning to go out as whatever tiny reserves they were hooked up to, ran out.