by Lukens, Mark
The van was almost ready to go now. He looked at the others with him to make sure they were ready, too. They all stared back at him in the shadows of the shrubs. Luke had whispered the plan to them at the back of the garage while they hid in the shadows from the view of the wall and from any rippers that might be nearby. Max would drive the van. Luke would be in the passenger seat. Dawson and Phil were going to run down through the yards to the left, keeping under the cover of trees and any other cover they could find as they got closer to the wall. And they should be pretty safe because the Dark Angels were going to be too focused on the van speeding toward them rather than looking around for anyone else.
The plan was to drive halfway to the wall, then secure the rope, keeping the van driving straight. Max was going to jump out of the van on his side and Luke would jump out of the passenger side. They would have their packs on, their weapons with them. Max would try to join up with Dawson and Phil once the van was through the wall, trying to pick off the Dark Angels that came to help the other two.
And Luke had his own plans once he was inside Hell Town.
Phil and Dawson moved through the backyard with their rifles in their hands, keeping low and hiding behind any cover they could find. Max got in the driver’s seat of the van and Luke got into the passenger seat. They both eased the doors shut.
Luke looked at Max who was poised to twist the ignition key and start the van. “You sure you can do this?”
Max nodded.
Luke didn’t bother to question Max any further—he had volunteered to drive the van. Luke figured it might be better for one of the other two men to do it—they were both younger—but Max was adamant about being the driver. Luke wasn’t going to argue with him.
Max started the van and pulled out onto the street after shifting into drive, pressing his foot down on top of the brick tied to the gas pedal, the engine already racing as the brick drove the pedal down. Luke pulled the rope down, straightening the steering wheel so that the van could drive straight down Warner Street and right into the wall. He pulled on the slipknot after securing it to the center console and the van was on its path, gaining speed quickly, the motor roaring.
Shouts came from the wall, and then bullets flew. One bullet hit the windshield, passing right between them. Either the Dark Angels were better shots than Luke had expected, or it was a lucky shot. The bullet had been too close. It was time to go.
Luke pulled out one of the hand grenades and pulled the pin, tossing it into the back of the van. “Time to go,” he told Max.
They both jumped out at the same time.
Luke had no way of knowing if Max had made it out okay, if he had landed without breaking an arm or a leg, or knocking himself unconscious. All Luke could do was worry about himself right now, and his own mission. He was out into the rushing cold air, then down on the ground, rolling and rolling, bracing for the impact of a bullet. For a few seconds he had no idea where he was exactly, but he popped up onto his feet and ran toward the other side of the road, diving down behind a car that had run up onto the sidewalk and into a row of shrubs that used to be neatly trimmed, a little wall around the tidy front yard of a home. The car provided some cover from the Dark Angels’ bullets.
A second later . . . an explosion. First, the van colliding with the wall, then a split second later the hand grenade going off inside the van. The shouts of the Dark Angels had been cut short, and now Luke couldn’t hear them anymore. But he could hear the rippers that had been riled up by the explosion. He needed to move fast.
Moments later he was through some backyards, then down another side street. He was farther back along the wall a few minutes later. He found what looked like a weak spot in the Hell Town wall. There were no Dark Angels along the top of the wall—none that he could see, anyway. He still had to be careful, even though he suspected that all available Dark Angels would be rushing toward the explosion: all hands on deck. And the other Dark Angels patrolling would be coming back soon, giving up their search because their prey had already attacked.
Luke had the other grenade with him. He pulled the pin and tossed it at the base of the wall. He hurried back behind the side of the brick house that was only twenty yards away from the wall. He counted down the seconds, and then the hand grenade went off. The explosion wasn’t as loud or powerful as Luke thought it was going to be. He’d felt some of the shock wave, but wondered if it had even caused enough damage to the wall.
He hurried around the corner of the house, approaching the gigantic smoking hole in the torn metal panels of the wall. Yes, it had done enough damage.
Luke was through the tear in the metal as quickly as he could, careful not to cut himself on the sharp lips of the opening. He needed to get in before Dark Angels came to investigate this explosion. He had a rough idea of the map in his mind as he hurried to his right, getting behind a house right away. He would work his way along this back area of the town and then back toward the middle where the Dragon’s house was. Where Jacob was.
CHAPTER 40
The Dragon
The Dragon knew things were beginning to end, he had sensed it for a while. Not the final ending, no not at all, but it would be an ending to this town he had created.
But he had other plans.
He had sent a group of Dark Angels to wait along a bend in the road to ambush the convoy coming their way: a convoy of traitors. The Dark Angels had killed the traitors in two out of the three vehicles, but they had failed to kill the ones in the last Humvee, the ones that the Dragon had wanted the most.
The Dragon wanted to punish those Dark Angels who had failed, hurt them, maybe even kill them. He wanted to tear his house apart. He wished he would have sent Jacob with them, but he thought he needed Jacob near him. That had been a bad miscalculation on his part. He hadn’t predicted future events well enough. God gave few the gift of prophecy, but those prophecies were often riddles that needed to be deciphered and figured out, and this time he had failed as miserably as his own men had, and therefore he also deserved the blame.
Even though the town would soon be lost, this wasn’t over at all. He was meant for this, to lead humanity back into the light. This was just a setback, just God testing him, making sure he was up to this task. And the Dragon would gladly take that challenge.
The Dragon was with Jacob and only one guard, a tall and lanky soldier that the Dragon had requested specifically. All other guards would need to be on hand to help the Dark Angels when the traitors got inside—because they were coming soon. Jacob was antsy. The Dragon knew Jacob wanted to be out there looking for Dawson and the others from the store who were with him: Luke and Max.
“Our home is under attack,” the Dragon told Jacob and Pete, the guard he had requested to be by his side now at the end.
“It’s only a few of them,” Jacob smirked.
“But Luke’s with them.”
Jacob grew suddenly cold, an expression that would weaken most men’s knees. But the Dragon wasn’t most men.
“I’ll get Luke,” Jacob growled. “Don’t you worry about that. He’s good, but I’m better. I’m the one who trained him.”
The Dragon nodded. “Yes, I know,” he said, at least to appease Jacob. He wasn’t sure who was going to kill who, and it didn’t really matter. He wanted Jacob with him, but if he couldn’t have him, then that was God’s will. He had others with him, others waiting in other places, more forces that could be gathered after this town had burned down.
Jacob still didn’t look happy about his skills being doubted, but the Dragon had a surprise for Jacob, something that would definitely make him happy. “We don’t need Petra anymore.”
A cruel smile on Jacob’s lips, a dark desire in his eyes.
The Dragon nodded again at Jacob. “We don’t have a lot of time. You can do what you want with her.”
Jacob was off.
The Dragon felt naked and exposed without Jacob as he left their meeting room in the building off of the main square. Ja
cob would head back to the house to do the horrible things to Petra that he had been imagining. The Dragon had ordered Jacob to kill Petra, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Jacob disobeyed that order. He was almost sure of it, but he also knew that Luke and Max would be coming for Petra. And when they did, Jacob would be there to greet them.
This also gave the Dragon time to make his escape plan, because he knew that the moment of escape was slipping away. The town was going to go down. Maybe the remaining Dark Angels would be able to kill Luke, Max, Dawson, and the other man with them, but it wouldn’t matter. There would be too many breaches in the walls, too many places the rippers could get in. And once that happened, it would be every man for himself.
Yes, this was a test, but how many tests did God have to put him through?
Haven’t I proven myself enough?
God didn’t answer and the Dragon felt ashamed for his moment of doubt, his moment of weakness. God would understand his faltering moments; God knew a man’s heart, a man’s true motivations. God knew the Dragon wanted to make this world a better place for the survivors, to bring the thousand years of peace prophesized in the Word of God.
The Dragon turned to Pete. “We need to go.”
“Yes, sir. Where to?”
The Dragon had a pickup truck stashed a mile beyond the far end of the Hell Town in a mechanic’s garage. Only a few Dark Angels and Jacob knew about it. The truck was stocked with supplies. The gas tank was full. The battery was working well. The tires were inflated and had plenty of tread. It was a large vehicle, able to traverse grass and mud as well as the pavement of the streets, big enough to ram anything (rippers) out of its way. The pickup was his escape vehicle, and now it was time to escape, to get to the next part of his plan: Avalon.
He also had a handgun tucked into a holster on his hip, extra magazines in the pack he would bring. Pete, the personal guard going with him to his escape vehicle, had an AK-47 assault rifle.
An explosion rocked the day, the ground rumbling. There were gunshots and shouts, rippers alerted in the distance. The wall had been breached. The end was here.
“Time to go now,” the Dragon told Pete.
CHAPTER 41
Petra
What the hell was that?
Petra sat up in bed in the basement. She’d been lying down, too nervous to sleep. She knew the Dragon would be coming for her soon. He didn’t need her alive much longer. Or, more likely, he would send Jacob down to finish her off, to do the things he’d been fantasizing about doing to her.
The house had shuddered from the explosion somewhere nearby, the wood ceiling creaking, dust sifting down through the floorboards above.
She jumped out of bed in the darkness. She was hungry and cold. Her hand was throbbing, the ache creeping up her arm; she wondered if it was getting infected. She was tired, so tired of it all. But she wasn’t quite ready to give up yet. Anger kept her going, the anger at the Dragon, and at Jacob; she wasn’t sure which one she hated more.
And now an explosion. It gave her hope. Maybe Dawson had been telling the truth. Maybe he had gotten to the store and they had sent people here to save her, and to kill the Dark Angels and the Dragon, to cut off the head of this snake. Maybe she would even get a chance to do it.
A flash of light illuminated the dark basement, the door at the top of the stairs opening, the daylight washing down the stairs.
Someone was coming down the stairs.
It was Jacob.
Her body tensed. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to run or fight, but she was ready to move, her nerve endings standing on end, sizzling just under her skin, her heart thumping. There was nowhere to run, so she would have to fight.
The footsteps down the stairs were quick and light, hurrying down the steps.
Jacob was finally coming to kill her. Maybe torture her first. She knew he was an expert fighter—he had bragged about it enough—but she would fight back like no one he’d ever fought with before. She’d gouge out his eyes, bite and scratch, kick and claw, anything she had to do to hurt him.
A woman in white appeared at the landing of the stairs, only a few steps up from the basement floor, bathed in the light that almost made her look angelic. For just a moment Petra thought her mind had cracked and she was hallucinating. The certainty of Jacob coming had been so strong that it took her a second to realize that a different person stood at the bottom of the stairs . . . it was Lindsey, the woman who had changed her bandages.
“Come on,” Lindsey hissed. “We have to go.”
Petra hurried toward Lindsey. She still felt shaky, the world around her surreal, like she was stuck in some kind of heavy-liquid dream that she couldn’t wake up from.
“What’s happening out there?” Petra asked.
“Someone drove a van through the west wall. The van exploded. There was something inside it.”
Petra didn’t have to ask who had done it. “Where are we going?”
“We have to go,” Lindsey said, speaking quickly but still in hushed tones. “A lot of people are running. The rippers will get in through the hole in the wall now.”
Petra felt a cold chill run through her veins like ice. She hadn’t even thought about the rippers getting in. She saw the rippers tearing Scott and Audrey apart again in her mind as they hung from the cables attached to the crossbeam. There had been hundreds of them coming from the woods that day. There could be hundreds coming from the houses all around the town. Maybe thousands of them.
“We need to hurry.”
“Where’s the Dragon? Where’s Jacob?”
Lindsey shook her head quickly, the movements of a nervous bird. “I don’t know. I think they’re in the meeting hall in the town square. They’re not here right now. There aren’t even any guards. The Dragon has sent most of them to either look for the traitors that came back or to guard the walls.”
Petra didn’t need any other coaxing. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Lindsey flew up the stairs and Petra was right behind her. The day was cold and gray, but the daylight still bright enough to hurt her eyes. She winced for just a second as they entered the kitchen from the basement door.
“Out the back,” Lindsey said as she cut her eyes toward the archway that led into the dining room.
Petra followed the woman’s gaze as she followed her across the kitchen to the back door. There was nobody in the dining room. No guards like Lindsey had said.
Lindsey pushed the back door open and hurried out onto the long back porch. Petra was right behind her. She couldn’t help looking at the two wooden chairs that had been left on the porch, the chair she had been tied to and the chair Sharon had been tied to. Large puddles of blood stained the floorboards under Sharon’s chair, the dried blood so dark now, seeped down into the wood. Sharon was dead now. Jacob had finally, and mercifully, killed her after cutting off so many parts from her.
She couldn’t think about that right now. This was a second chance to escape, and she wasn’t going to get caught this time.
In the background Petra heard the yells of the Dark Angels and guards, maybe some of the townspeople, machinery and trucks moving. And even farther away—but not far enough—came the sound of the rippers approaching. A lot of them. The smell of smoke was already heavy in the air; the fire from the exploded van must have spread to the nearby homes, maybe roaring across the lawns now.
Lindsey got to the screen door. She was through it in a flash, not bothering to hold it open for Petra. She was down the set of three concrete steps and down onto the backyard, running toward the next yard. She turned and stopped, staring at Petra, waiting for her.
“Come on,” Lindsey hissed, her eyes wide, her face drained of all color, her lips bloodless with fear and the cold.
Petra was about to catch up to Lindsey, but she froze when a bullet ripped into Lindsey’s head, whipping it back, her hair flying. She collapsed, her head hitting the ground so hard, her body going still instantly, steam rising up from the wound in her forehe
ad.
She hadn’t even heard the gunshot.
Jacob stepped out from behind the end of the six-foot high row of shrubs with his gun in his hand, a silencer attached to the end of it. “Going somewhere, Petra?” he asked.
CHAPTER 42
Ray
A crushing panic was trying to set in as Ray rode the elevator down to Avalon. He was doing his best to push it away, but the panic had come on so suddenly and so strongly. He’d always been somewhat claustrophobic, and he’d never particularly liked elevators even though he had worked in a building with elevators and had ridden one every day. But this was different. This elevator was plummeting far below the ground. And he didn’t know how far. There were no floor numbers on the computer screen above the doors, just a series of red dots running across the black screen like a never-ending tickertape readout. He didn’t trust the electricity in this bunker. Maybe the electricity and this elevator were being automated by a barely-functioning computer. Maybe the electricity was hit-or-miss right now. He had visions of being trapped inside this dark elevator when the power went out suddenly.