Circle of Wagons: The Gospel of Madness (Book 4 of 6) (The Gospel of Madness - (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller Series))

by Georg Bruckmann

  Also the two guards, Abele and his buddy looked at each other for a second, as if they wanted to ask themselves:

  What the hell was that?

  What the hell's going on?

  Eventually the moment of shock was over. Not Abele, the other one regained his composure first.

  "You stay where you are," he barked at Maria and the other prisoners. Then he turned to the blonde boy.

  "Go upstairs and see what's going on."

  Abele had utilized this order to overcome the shock, and he seemed relieved that his comrade just had relieved him of the duty to make his own decision. When he opened the door to obey the order, Maria was able to look into the cellar corridor for a second. Also the guards of the second slave group with René and Bastian had stepped outside into the passage to find out what happened upstairs. Then Abele closed the door behind him, and his buddy positioned himself in front of it with his legs spread ready for battle, not letting his prisoners out of his sight.

  "Don't you move, you bastards!" he said with some threat in his voice and held his spear tighter.

  Was this an opportunity?

  An opportunity to escape?

  Maria looked at her fellow prisoners. Some of them had anxiously clung to each other. Those to whom she had given from her former wages were of no use anyway as far as an escape attempt was concerned.

  They were too weak.

  Who else was there?

  No. There was nothing in them. Nothing. No spark of resistance in those pale faces. She couldn't handle this guy alone. She could forget that. But she needed help. There was no other way. If enough were to run at him, it could work without the danger of being hurt being too great. But like this?

  She cursed the fact that Bastian and René were held captive in the other basement room. They might have responded to her initiative. She lowered her gaze again. She had no choice but to wait and see what would happen next.

  Viktor

  The combination of flickering lamplights and dust hanging everywhere in the air in the stairwell created a ghostly haze that Viktor tried to penetrate with his eyes wide open. He was getting a little tedious. There was a high-pitched beep in his left ear that just wouldn't leave.

  Explosion. Upstairs. Hand grenade? Rocket? There's someone in the hall. Who's that? I know ...

  "Abele! The others! How many more are here?"

  Young Abele was not able to react immediately. First the explosion and then the sudden appearance of his leader, who was telling from his face was in a sheer panic, had confused him.

  "Well, tell me! How many of our people are still in the house?"

  Viktor stood now directly in front of Abele and had grabbed him by the collar.

  "Come on, boy!"

  He began to shake the confused youngster, and finally Abele, who had dropped his power cord whip, managed to answer.

  "So ... there's three more downstairs. Upstairs ..."

  "Yes, yes, I see, it depends on how many survived the explosion," Viktor said to his subordinate.

  "And what about those outsi...?"

  "The ghost took them. Them and Lüders are dead."

  Viktor had immediately realized that Abele had asked for the three comrades who had been guarding the front door. Viktor thought. Explosives. The ghost was technically superior to them. Would it be better to give up the prisoners and flee?

  No. That was impossible.

  They were superior in numbers, and even though the spirit had already cut down at least four of its people in the past few minutes, they were at an advantage. The ten men out in town who tightened the circle. The four riders who had been standing by and who now had to be on their way here as well.

  Besides, there was Christiano.

  Viktor just wouldn't be able to stand up to him and tell him about his failure. It couldn't be. There couldn't be any failure.

  Viktor realized Abele was about to instruct the other guards to come out of the cellar, when the door that led down there opened again and they came up with weapons in their hands on their own.

  Yeah, those were his people. Fierce, grim men and women who were not intimidated that easily.

  Viktor allowed himself half a second of pride.

  "What about the slaves? Do they behave calmly?" he turned to no one in particular and drove his left hand through his face. Only then did he realize that he had lost his bow. He searched and found it at his feet, picked it up.

  "Good as scared lambs," Mia replied, now pointing her crossbow back to the ground after recognizing Viktor.

  With as few words as possible, Viktor explained the situation to his people. He sent Abele upstairs to see if anyone up there had survived the explosion. Then he began to set up the line of defense. No one who would come through the front door would have a chance, whether ghost or not. But they had to hurry. The ghost showed quite some speed, and they had to be prepared when he came.

  Soon they had built a barricade of furniture that they had dragged out of an apartment on the ground floor and into the corridor. Viktor placed Mia with her crossbow and Levi behind it. When that was done, Abele came back from above and shook his head when Viktor looked at him questioningly. Viktor nodded and considered briefly. Then he said:

  "Go back upstairs, Abele. I'll be right behind you. You..."

  Viktor spoke to a bald, strong man of about fifty, who held two axes in his hands and was called Jan.

  "You go in there."

  Viktor nodded towards an open door that led into an apartment on the left side of the corridor near the entrance door.

  "As soon as that son of a bitch gets in the stairwell and past you to go after Mia and Levi, you attack him from behind. Abele and I are going up a floor. As soon as the fight starts down here, we'll go out through the windows into the street and then we'll fall into his back as well."

  Mia and Levi also had heard Viktor's words, and if they cared to be the first to attract the aggression of their unknown opponent and serve as bait, they would not show it. Abele, who had realized that this new situation required a weapon other than a whip, and that it was far more dangerous than intimidating weak, scared, half-naked prisoners, had drawn a long knife and tried to look determined.

  When Viktor set himself in motion, he also turned around and went up ahead of his leader. Before Viktor put his foot on the first step, he paused once more and gave instructions to extinguish the two lamps. This way his people would be able to see the silhouette of the ghost when he came through the door without being immediately targeted by him. His eyes would have to get used to the darkness in the hallway.

  Viktor pressed himself close to the remains of the wall left by the explosion and watched the road below him. He knew Abele to his left was doing the same thing. His fingers felt something wet on the floor. Remnants of the man caught in the explosion. Viktor wiped his fingers on his fur cape and put another arrow on the string. The ghost would come across the street, Viktor was sure of that. He exhorted himself to resist the temptation to shoot at him as soon as he became aware.

  He'd let the ghost come.

  Viktor knew that Mia and Levi basically had no chance of surviving the encounter with the well-armed enemy. But their sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. Whistle signals came echoing in and horse hooves in full gallop, somewhat further away.

  Viktor knew how difficult it was to navigate in a big city just by a whistle signal that had faded away so long ago. But they were looking for him. Several minutes had passed since he had let his own command shrill into the night. The explosion, however, must have pointed all his people in the right direction.

  In fact, Viktor was amazed. He could still smell the explosives and the chemical reaction that belonged to it in the air.

  But there was no fire anywhere. Even if his people would still need a few moments to reach the scene, Viktor was confident that someone would kill the ghost - if wasn't even him who caught that wanker.

  Rolf

  Rolf could literally feel how they had entr
enched themselves on the other side of the street, how they were lurking for him. He could hear the horses coming closer.

  They'll be here soon.

  More ghostly whistle signals. And under all those noises that kept his ears busy, he sensed further movements around him. Gently he put his hand on the handle of the front door.

  Should I really cross the street?, he asked himself.

  Wouldn't it be better to go over the roofs?

  To make a bow and attack from behind?

  But the riders weren't here yet. The whistle signals came from all around him, and he couldn't possibly estimate how many degenerates were out there waiting for him this bloody night. Once they got here, his chances were slim. Not the chances of carrying out his plan and freeing the prisoners of the degenerates, but his chances of simply getting away with life.

  For another five seconds Rolf was not able to decide.

  Sneak or storm?

  Sneak or storm?

  Sneak or storm?

  Sneak or storm?

  Then another detonation.

  Rolf was startled, and he almost accidentally pulled the trigger on his MP. Then he registered that the rolling, dull explosion sound did not come from up close. He had to grin for a split second. Someone set off one of his booby traps. Rolf imagined a degenerate being torn to shreds by the explosion and the screws and nails he had filled into the pipe bomb tearing skin, veins and muscle fibers apart. He had to grin again, and without realizing it himself, he had made his decision.

  Storm.

  He pushed the door handle down with an energetic movement and hurried outside. He sprinted, the MP at the stop, across the street. Shadowy movement from the left. Something heavy banged against him and the poisonous sub-machine gun slipped out of his hands as he unrolled, but remained attached to the carrying strap he had wrapped around his neck.

  With full intent Rolf rolled himself two fast turns further over the slush asphalt of the city, in order to offer any archers no target. Only then did he straighten up into a kneeling position, reflexively stretching towards the MP and turning his head to see who had just rammed him.

  The degenerate had also fallen, but was back on her feet faster than Rolf. She was still two meters away from him and stormed towards him with her spear raised. Although her face was distorted with murder and rage, she didn't make the mistake of shouting out an animalistic battle cry, Rolf registered.

  Well trained.

  Rolf had already pulled the trigger of the sub-machine gun before the barrel of the gun pointed to the woman's body.

  As if in slow motion, he saw the impact of the bullets moving from the left knee to the woman's left thigh, from her crotch to the solar plexus. The momentum the degenerate had built up was enough to carry her past Rolf before she fell and remained motionless. The moment the deg slut, who must have been dead at that moment, stumbled past Rolf, he saw the whistle the woman was wearing around her neck on a leather strap.

  Something else caught his eye.

  Since the distant detonation of his booby trap he had not heard any horse hooves on the nightly pavement.

  The explosion had bought him time.

  A postponement.

  He couldn't waste this unexpected lead now.

  He got up.

  How many bullets did he pump into that bitch?

  Rolf didn't know.

  Viktor

  Viktor watched as the woman, Shirin was her name, pounced on the ghost. He would have liked to have jumped out of his cover and stood by her with his bow, but he knew how important it was to stick to the plan.

  From the corner of his eye Viktor saw that Abele was also about to jump down from the hole that the explosives of the spirit had torn into the wall and intervene. Viktor meant to him with a gesture of his hand not to. Shirin's chances were fifty-fifty, Viktor estimated.

  When he saw that he had misjudged, he suppressed a curse.

  It would have been too nice if she'd killed the ghost. Instead, the son of a bitch stood up again and moved towards the door and out of Viktor's field of vision without appreciating the corpse of another look.

  Viktor listened hard.

  He and Abele weren't allowed to go down too soon. But they weren't allowed to lurk up here too long either. They had to catch the ghost the moment he was busy doing Mia and Levi. At close range, the spirit's sub-machine gun actually sounded much louder than before, and Viktor decided to become active the next time he heard their hoarse barking.

  The ghost had now come so close to the building that Viktor could no longer see him without sticking his head out of the cover. In front of his inner eye he imagined how he was tampering with the entrance door.

  Would he shoot the lock?

  Would he use explosives again to gain access?

  It was shaken at the door, Viktor could hear that, and he gave Abele a sign to get ready. The boy's mouth was pinched, his lips tightly pressed together, as he nodded confirmingly. Abele was about to rise and Viktor about to jump down the two or three meters into the street to fall into the ghost's back, when the shaking stopped.

  "Stop. Stay," whispered Viktor. "Not yet."

  What...?

  A window clanked.

  Goddamn it.

  The ghost wouldn't come in through the door. He came through one of the apartments on the ground floor. Viktor hoped it was the one where Jan with his two axes lurked for the ghost. And he hoped that the bald man would react fast enough not to be surprised. Abele stared at Viktor now with an urging, inquiring face dimly lit by moonlight.

  Viktor feverishly considered what to do. Back and down the stairs to Mia and Levi behind their miserable barricade?

  No.

  The unforeseen situation made his original plan to stab the ghost in the back no less promising. Below his weapon barked again, and the shots sounded quieter through the walls and doors than those that had shredded Shirin's body.

  Viktor took a look at her corpse laying down on the street. She lay on her stomach in a pool of her own blood. Her spear, with which she had tried to impale the ghost, had rolled a few meters further, hit a partially snow-covered car standing diagonally on the road, and had come to a rest there.

  The shooting stopped.

  But now a hoarse cry sounded, which penetrated Viktor's ears from below and mixed with further whistling signals of his men scattered throughout the city that were constantly approaching.

  Viktor heard that heavy objects, probably furniture, were being pushed around below. Damn stupid creatures.

  Mia and Levi rallied behind their fortification to help Jan.

  Those idiots!

  "Mia! Levi! Stay where you are!"

  It was clear to him that he had now most probably given away himself and the two downstairs in the hallway. Maybe the ghost hadn't heard anything either. Maybe Jan's screams had covered up Viktor's words.

  Whatever. It's time to end this.

  He stood up, swung his legs out of the house and let himself fall. It wasn't a deep fall, but his heels still hurt when he hit the pavement and had to hold on to the house wall so as not to lose his footing in the muddy snow. While he heard Abele land behind him, his gaze searched the facade.

  He went in right there. Almost instantly Viktor found the window through which the ghost had entered the house.

  The above-average tall man probably didn't have much trouble pulling himself up on the stone, breast-high windowsill and climbing into the apartment. Viktor, on the other hand, was not half a giant and waved Abele over to help him.

  "You help me up. When I'm up, you give me my bow, you understand?"

  Abele nodded. The sweat was on the boy's forehead, and Viktor knew it wasn't the physical exertion.

  Maria

  When the vibrations of the explosion had shaken the building to its foundations and the air in the narrow, stuffy basement room, which still stank vaguely of sex and other evaporation, was suddenly filled with dust particles that made it almost impossible to recog
nize the opposite wall exactly, many of the prisoners had crowded together anxiously.

  Maria had remained isolated.

  She was still sitting on the floor in a cold and wet puddle of what had flowed out of her and had her arms wrapped around her knees. But she held her head up straight. Unlike the others, she wanted to know what was happening.

  Abele had stormed upstairs. Then, shortly afterwards, the other guard had followed him and had thrown the door into its lock.

  Nothing happened for about a minute, and Maria crawled through the cellar on her knees to put an ear to the door. She still couldn't hear anything, but her action earned her some disapproving sibilants from her fellow prisoners.

  These became louder as she pushed the handle down for a test. The door wasn't locked. She opened it a crack wide, and finally she got a glimpse of what was going on above. She could hear a screaming voice muffled from above and shortly afterwards how movement filled the stairwell. A door was opened and closed, and it sounded as if furniture was being moved. Then again there was nothing at all to hear.

  What was going on up there?

  What was that excitement about?

  In all her time with the horsemen she had never experienced anything like this.

  Nervousness, she answered her own question in spirit.

  They were nervous. Something didn't go the way they wanted or were used to. What could that be? What could have caused her almighty tormentors to panic?

  As much as she thought about these questions, she couldn't come up with a suitable answer.

  Already she thought that the excitement had subsided, then she heard a quiet, distant sound, which she recognized nevertheless. The fire of a silenced, fully automatic weapon. She had last heard it when the war was still raging and she and a few of the others from her neighborhood had wanted to plunder the wreckage of a military helicopter that had crashed during the night.