Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 123

BREN

I was careful not to drop my full weight onto the bottom platform, which buckled slightly as my toes hit a specific spot. If I made too much noise, someone might hear me, and my entire plan would go kaput. It was easier said than done when I am inside a metallic death box where every section I touch had the potential to creak and thud. Hell, even my breathing made an echo. I didn't make a sound.

If I had been thirty pounds heavier and overweight like three months ago, it would probably be a different story, and I thought—the perks of an apocalyptic diet.

Luckily, the dumbwaiter shutters were closed. I could see beyond a narrow two-inch wide port overlooking the entire cafeteria kitchen: commercial-sized ranges, stoves, and ovens; rows of metallic island counters where pots and pans dangled from the ceiling; industrial kitchen sink; and two doors leading into the main cafeteria and one toward the backdoors into the alley. Shadows blanketed each corner of the room, one that made me wonder if someone could hide under it.

A large open half wall was facing the cafeteria that extended its entire length with the metal latticed shutters down. It gave me a good view into the cafeteria, but I didn't see any movement from there. The coast was clear.

Light came from above and flooded the platform. I shielded my eyes as I looked up, found Logan looking down at me with a worried expression, holding a flashlight aimed right at me. Annoyed, I gestured for him to cut the light and stick to our plan, then peeked through the window to see if anyone had noticed.

No soldiers came.

I looked up again. I could tell his wheels were turning that he wanted to follow me once I turned my back, but it would be a tight fit for him to climb down into this death trap. Saving his ass was not my priority right now, nor was I looking for an excuse to rescue him. I'm already rescuing another dude, and I didn't want to add him to the list. I didn't even know how far Yousef went.

Sighing, Logan stepped off from the entrance. He didn't stick his head out again, and I assumed he went to where Peter was now, waiting for me by the stairwell gate. Gathering enough courage, I opened the dumbwaiter shutters and stepped out.

The kitchen was cold. Deep in the bowels of the building, I could no longer hear the patter of rain against the roof and the windows, somehow an unwelcoming clangor in this dark, eerie room—every corner an enemy, every sound a call for battle. Still, I could smell the half-burnt oil from the metallic surface and the stovetops, the sticky pull of my shoes as I snuck through the un-mopped floor, and the soft tick of the clock above the kitchen entrance, clacking away the seconds I had left to find Yousef and the others, and bring them back alive.

Charlene and Olson were here, and I wondered if they had seen Yousef. But given we had no idea how long Yousef was gone, I assumed they didn't find him. I didn't hear any commotion from the worship hall, so the others weren't aware of our presence yet. I took that as a good thing.

I swallowed what courage I had left, pushing me forward to the cafeteria. I snuck behind the doorframe, my back against the kitchen counter, calculating how I should go about this. There were so many areas that Yousef could go first, but since the cafeteria was near where the girls were last seen, I decided I should head out into the courtyard. If they were smart, they should take the hidden path to the private parking area and stay by the RV. Hopefully, the other soldiers hadn't found it yet. Now I was more thankful for the heavy rain.

I put Betty back in my holster. Guns would only attract unwanted attention, so I pulled out the hatchet instead. Though I was a little nervous, I was used to getting my hands dirty, pulling punches, and hitting them where I was inches away from their face. It's not ideal, and any move could cost me, but it's better than facing them all at once, especially when they're highly trained with guns. What made me nervous was how skilled they were once the fighting started.