Still of Night (Dead of Night 3)

“And then we pick where we want to fight. They have numbers and there is an arrogance that goes with that. You are a woman, most of the Pack are kids. I’m an old man. If Trash has told them about everything, then that is what they will expect to find. It is not,” he said, “what they will find.”

“No,” she said.

“What is it they’ll find?” he asked.

“Warriors,” said Dahlia.

Mr. Church pulled her close nd hugged her.

“Welcome to the war.”

— 24 —

THE WARRIOR WOMAN

“We are getting out of here.” Rachael’s voice was low as she handed her extra knives over to Claudia. “I don’t want the town to decide that we’ve outstayed our welcome as guests and decide we need to participate in their fucked-up work program.”

It was past midnight as Rachael, Claudia, and Jason loaded up their weapons and bags onto their backs, strapping down anything that might make noise so they could move as stealthily as possible. The town was dimly lit at this hour, something Rachael hoped would work to their advantage. The solar lights along the edges of the sidewalks glowed softly, providing just enough light to navigate by.

She’d spent most of the afternoon and early evening unobtrusively spying to see how regular the guard shifts were, where they patrolled, and if there were any weak points they could use in their favor. There were. For instance, the town seemed to rely primarily on sheer dumb luck. There were only two guards monitoring the main gate at any given time. These were apparently the only jobs they didn’t trust to their non-resident workers, instead relying on a steady stream of volunteers from their community residents.

The walls of the community were high, at least ten feet, higher than any of them could climb without aid, but Rachael had paid attention to where the ladders the workers used were stored, and she had an idea.

She just hoped that some of the town’s dumb luck would be on their side tonight. They were going to need it.

The three of them left the house, well-worn boots falling softly on the grass and pavement. They kept to the deep shadows between houses, ducking into the darkness at any signs of movement. The streets were pretty much deserted; most of the town was already asleep, preparing for a new day.

The storage building was adjacent to the country club turned city hall. A risk, but a calculated one, and one that Rachael hoped would pay off. She sent Claudia and Jason to the east wall where they’d wait for her, and she would meet them by the side gate. It was further out of their way, but the further away from the front gate, the less chance of them being spotted.

She wound between the buildings, keeping to the darkness, eyes darting for any signs of movement, of life, of danger. The town was silent, eerily so, but no one seemed to be awake in this section.

Good.

The storage building bordered the road that led to the city hall. It was small and unassuming except for the large padlock on the front. Rachael crouched down and studied it. She’d learned how to pick locks years ago for her LARP character, but she was out of practice and didn’t have the right tools with her. She was going to need to rely more on brute strength.

Pulling one of her throwing knives from her belt, she jammed the tip into the lock, rocking it back and forth, lodging it in, before twisting sharply, trying to jam the lock.

“Fuck. Work!” she grunted under her breath, forcing all of her strength into the knife.

Rachael froze, heart pounding as a sound carried to her ears. Was there someone there? The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, along with the certainty she was being watched.

She looked around, eyes darting to all the darkened windows and long shadows. She couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean anything. She needed to work faster.

She tried again, but the knife gave, bending against the force and snapping the tip of the blade off in the lock. Cursing softly, she threw the knife into the grass and grabbed her big Elven dagger. Lodging it between the lock and the door, she braced herself and pushed.

The clank of the metal latch snapping sounded like cannon fire to her ears, and Rachael froze, holding her breath, heart racing wildly. Surely someone had to have heard.

But ten seconds passed, then twenty, and no one appeared, so Rachael pushed open the door and grabbed the largest ladder she could find and a bundle of rope. Gripping the ladder tightly under one arm, she bolted for the wall as quickly and quietly as she could.

She found Jason and Claudia, crouched and tense, in the shadows by the east wall. Rachael could almost feel the fear and tension ripple in the air around them.

“Ladder,” murmured Rachael. Jason raised it and placed it quietly against the wall, extending it as high as she could. There was still a good seven-foot gap between the top of the ladder and the top of the wall, and her heart sank as she thought about the drop on the other side.

Jason seemed to read her mind. “Parkour?” he asked with a strained smile. Rachael nodded, tying the rope to a sturdy sapling and handing it to him, hoping it was long enough to help them slide down to safety.

Jason climbed the ladder first while Rachael held the bottom steady, hoping their luck would hold. She hadn’t heard any sounds, but the voice in the back of her mind that had saved her many times in LARP was sounding warning alarms now. Something was wrong.

Rachael watched nervously as Jason reached the top of the ladder. He was tall, a little over six feet, with wiry lean muscles that allowed him to pull himself to the top of the wall easily. He dropped his bag and the rope over the other side as Claudia began to climb.