Beneath: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Taken World Book 4)

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Beneath: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Taken World Book 4) Page 3

by Flint Maxwell


  Tyler, on his backside after being thrown into the docking area, got to his knees and then to his feet. One light burned in the distance from a torch. The flames flickered and cast shadows over the stranger’s face. May stood up, too, and positioned herself slightly behind Tyler, scared.

  But what she didn’t know was that he was scared, too. Monsters, he could deal with. He knew their intentions. All they wanted was to eat you, to devour you, to tear you limb from limb… But humans. He didn’t think there were many left that had good intentions. After hearing what happened in Cleveland with Devin Johnson and the other hunters…the monster worshippers sacrificing healthy men and women to their gods, he knew there wasn’t much good left out there.

  Tyler realized he was without his pistol. Lost among the chaos, probably. He did a quick scan around the dark loading dock, saw nothing, and then looked at the stranger’s face once more. He didn’t trust the man well enough to look away for too long.

  “No need,” the man said. “You’re well protected in here.” He stuck out his hand. “My name is Ray Foster.”

  Tyler eyed his huge palm. He was just now noticing how large this man was. His hand by itself could’ve easily palmed Tyler’s head, perhaps even crushed it into dust. Ray Foster wore a buzzcut. His hair was dark blonde, the kind that probably got lighter once the follicles grew out. He had no facial hair and because of that, you could see how harsh the lines of his face were and how sharp his jawline was. He was easily six and a half feet tall, maybe taller. He would certainly give Logan Harper a run for his money. His arms were corded with thick muscles, his shoulders were broad, and he stood as straight as a pole, projecting himself slightly taller than he already was. If Tyler had to guess, he would’ve said Ray Foster played professional football.

  Tyler finally took the man’s hand. His grip was firm, reassuring. “Tyler Stapleton,” he informed his rescuer.

  May stepped forward and stuck her good hand out, but Ray Foster didn’t shake it; instead, he grabbed it lightly and kissed it. May chuckled awkwardly, her cheeks burning with color. Tyler rolled his eyes.

  “And your name is, milady?” Ray asked.

  “M-May,” she answered.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, May,” Ray said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

  Outside, the sounds of a different kind of gunfire rippled, muted only slightly by the shuttered loading dock door. It was an odd time for introductions, that was for sure, but then again, when was the right time for introductions, in a world such as it was now?

  Still, Tyler had been raised right. Nana and Mom had instilled a great sense of politeness in him, which was saying something, considering where he had grown up.

  He said, “Thank you for the help.”

  Ray shrugged. “Don’t sweat it. We’re just glad to see new faces. Not many of them left, especially around these parts. Go farther into the city, and you won’t see nothing but skeletons and piles of ash.” He sighed, his eyes going hazy with a memory. “I used to live over in Georgetown, played football at the University, but the bombs that hit D.C. pretty much wiped it out.”

  “I’m sorry,” May said.

  Ray brightened up at the sound of her voice, smiling. “Don’t worry about it. Just the way the world is. I’m glad to still be here. I lost everyone I cared about, but I’m still here, and that’s something, right?”

  Tyler wondered if it really was something. He thought of a book he’d read as a kid, a tale about an immortal wizard. The wizard watched a thousand times over as all those he loved got older, withered away, and finally died. Tyler wasn’t immortal, but he’d had to see death and destruction. Was being alive now a gift or a curse?

  The shuttered door rang out with knocks. Ray, as big as he was, practically jumped at the sound. Then, as if remembering some pressing information, he darted to the door and lifted it up about a foot, single-handed. The cold air from outside brought in a smell of cordite and gun smoke.

  Tyler watched as two bodies emerged from the crack. They were the ones in full riot gear—chest plate, shoulder and forearm pads, thigh pads, knee pads, and a helmet with a tinted facemask. Each of them held an assault rifle.

  One figure was of a small stature. This one took off their helmet first, and a cascade of long, dark hair fell in a wave. Sweat beaded her face, and the war paint underneath her round eyes had begun to run down her cheeks. Tyler hadn’t been expecting a woman—part of the old-world thinking, no doubt, where women were meant to be frail and helpless. He had seen firsthand how that wasn’t the case. Jane Harper and May were prime examples of that.

  The woman must’ve seen him looking at her; she didn’t take kindly to it.

  “Take a picture, man, it’ll last longer.”

  “Be nice, Florence,” the other riot gear wearer said. This one was a man. He took off his helmet and his hair fell over his eyes. He flipped it out of the way with a flick of his head.

  “Bite me,” the one called Florence said. “We just saved their lives, and this guy’s practically humping me with his eyes.”

  Tyler chuckled.

  It had been an involuntary sound. He didn’t mean it, he had just been taken aback by the woman’s brashness.

  “You think that’s funny?” Florence stepped forward. She barely stood past Tyler’s shoulders, but she came at him like a pissed-off Chihuahua.

  He stepped away.

  “Down, girl,” Ray said, laughing. “Down!”

  She rolled her eyes, but stood down. The other man in riot gear took Tyler’s hand.

  “Sorry about Flo. She gets a little…on edge after we go outside. Especially at night.”

  Tyler shrugged. “It’s okay. Thank you for the help. How can we repay you?”

  The man waved a hand. “Not much of value left anymore. Only human lives. I’m Avery, by the way.”

  “Tyler.”

  They shook hands. Tyler introduced May, and much to his pleasure, Avery didn’t kiss the back of her hand like Ray Foster had done.

  “Is it just you three here?” he asked.

  Avery shook his head. “Two more inside. They’re not much for hands-on activity.”

  Flo snorted. “That’s putting it lightly.”

  “Florence,” Ray said. “Be nice.”

  “How about I kick you in the nuts? Would that be nice?” she replied.

  She didn’t exactly sound like she was joking, but Ray chuckled, brushing it off. If Tyler had been in his shoes, he would’ve certainly been seeking out an athletic cup and a jock strap as soon as he could.

  “You’ll meet them soon enough,” Avery continued.

  “How long have you guys been here?” May asked. She was looking at Ray with something like infatuation in her eyes.

  Tyler almost chuckled to himself again, thinking about those two getting together. They were almost polar opposites in size, but their names rhymed. May and Ray. Ray and May.

  It took a good amount of self-control not to laugh as he thought about that. The one thing that stopped him from doing so was Florence’s perpetual scowl…and the fact that he really didn’t want to get kicked below the belt.

  “We’ve been here about three months. We were here when D.C. got hit. We did some rebuilding, but this mall held up pretty well,” Avery answered. “You’re both welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

  “Thank you,” Tyler said. “Just the night will be fine. Then we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Nonsense,” Ray said, stepping toward Tyler and putting a big hand on his shoulder. “You can stay longer than that. We got plenty of food.” Then, almost as an aside, he added, “And I really need a better two-on-two partner than Flo.”

  Florence practically growled. “Because I’m a woman?”

  “No, because you’re short,” Ray answered.

  Tyler was confused. He cocked his head. “Two-on-two? Oh, you mean basketball.”

  Ray nodded. “Correct. We got a hoop set up in the sporting goods store. We had to cl
ear out a bunch of exercise equipment, and the three-point line we painted certainly isn’t pro range, but it’s better than nothing. Helps the time go by.”

  “Oh, man, I haven’t picked up a basketball in years,” Tyler said.

  He thought of his time growing up in Atlanta. It had been basketball, football, and then girls. In that order. It must’ve been twenty or more years since he’d played, but right then, nothing sounded better.

  “Whatever,” Florence said. “I’m going to bed. You have fun with your new partner, Ray.”

  Ray blew her kiss. She flipped him the bird in reply, making both Ray and Avery laugh.

  “Yeah, let’s go inside,” Avery said. “I don’t like being this close to them.” He pointed at the loading bay door, which was really just a sheet of metal. If the monsters wanted, Tyler supposed they could break it down easily enough. “Flo and me put a few down, but a couple got away. Injured, yeah, but mostly just pissed off. They’ll be back, I reckon.” He waved them on. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you two to Kurt and his wife.”

  Avery led the way, followed by May and Tyler, with Ray bringing up the rear.

  7

  Amsterdam Mall

  Amsterdam Mall had gone through many renovations since the last time Tyler Stapleton had been there, which was probably Christmas Eve, five years before. He had ordered a gift for his mother off the internet. Like many men, he was never one to go out shopping at any time, but especially not during the holiday season. The guaranteed delivery date of the gift—a clock that sang Beatles’ songs at the beginning of every hour—was December 23rd. But, of course, because of the holiday rush, the clock wouldn’t arrive until the 27th. So Tyler had been forced to head to the Amsterdam Mall.

  It wasn’t far from his house, maybe a few miles, but stepping into the place was like stepping into a foreign country. There had been people running all around, shopping bags and large purses in their hands. Strollers owned the walkway, nearly crashing into each other like bumper cars. The place buzzed loudly with the cacophony of a thousand mingling conversations. The smell of pizza and pretzels and popcorn wafted throughout from the food court. And there were so many stores, seeming to sell anything one could think of.

  The place looked so much bigger without all the crowds and colliding shopping bags, and people in their employee uniforms offering free samples of food and perfume swatches.

  “Welcome to Amsterdam,” Avery said. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

  They had come out of a service door marked ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ and rounded a corner to the corridor that led to the food court. A couple of kiosks stood in the middle of this corridor: a sushi place, and a place that sold cheap cell phone cases. Behind Tyler was a large, open area. One part of it was taken up by a kids’ playground, with seats all around so the parents could monitor their offspring, and then opposite that was a Starbucks.

  This was the first time in Tyler’s adult life that he didn’t see a line at a Starbucks.

  “I think Kurt and Skylar are in the food court,” Avery said.

  They walked down the corridor, past the shuttered jewelry shops, the diamonds glittering untouched in their cases, past the pretzel place with flies buzzing sluggishly around its empty lemonade and iced tea containers, past the pizza place, its display counter still full of emptied circular dishes and grease-stained wax paper, until they finally came upon the main dining area of the food court.

  It was dome-shaped, pillars standing tall all around it in a circle. One door led outside, surrounded by near floor-to-ceiling windows. The door was barricaded by benches, boxes, and bags of sand, while the windows were reinforced with horizontal iron bars, a security feature of the old world that had no doubt proven to come in handy.

  Smack dab in the middle of the food court, a man and a woman sat at a table. The man had long, dark hair streaked with gray, which he wore cinched into a ponytail. The woman was rail thin, her face slightly haggard, as if she had lived a hard, hard life. She was the one who noticed them. She pointed with a warm smile on her face, and the man turned and followed her finger.

  Kurt was a biker, if Tyler had ever seen one. He wore a leather jacket, and bluish, fading tattoos covered all his visible skin: his hands, his neck, and even his face, where he had a couple of dark blots that Tyler couldn’t make out from this far away.

  Kurt stood up. He, too, was rail thin, reminding Tyler of a scarecrow in an abandoned field.

  A bad feeling invaded Tyler—one he hoped he was wrong about.

  They met halfway, right in front of a hat store called ‘Lids’.

  “Told you it wasn’t worth it,” Kurt said in a low voice to Avery. “Going out there for the likes of him.” He was looking right at Tyler, his eyes boring into him. “What are the chances that one of the last humans in America is a darky?” He laughed.

  “ ‘Darky’?” Tyler repeated. “Referring to my skin color?”

  “Yes,” Kurt said.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” Kurt replied. “Because you’re black. Jesus, are you retarded, too?”

  “I’ll show you a darky when I knock your fucking lights out!” Tyler yelled, and he lunged forward.

  Just as he raised his hand up, about to slug Kurt in the mouth, he heard May shout.

  “Tyler, don’t!”

  Ray caught his arm before Tyler could make contact with Kurt’s haggard face. The anger pulsing through him brought out beads of sweat on his forehead.

  “Easy, easy!” Avery yelled.

  Kurt had fumbled backward. Tyler was glad to see that. Still burning with rage, he allowed himself a smile.

  Avery came over and pushed Kurt into a chair. Avery wasn’t that big, but it didn’t seem like it took much strength to knock Kurt down.

  “Watch it, Kurt,” he said. “You, me, and Tyler here—all of us—we’re the same, okay? Leave that old-world racism shit in the past.”

  “Yeah,” Kurt said, grinning. His canines looked like vampire teeth. “Whatever, man.”

  All the while, the woman, Skylar, had kept her eyes averted, bottom lip trembling. It was almost like she wanted to say something, to stand up for Tyler, but was too afraid of her husband.

  The rage infused within Tyler was on its way down. He could see clearly again, and he recognized that Avery and Ray had handled the situation well enough.

  “Maybe next time, I’ll let Tyler slug you,” Ray said to Kurt. He hooked an arm around Tyler’s shoulders. “Come on, killer. I’m sorry about that.”

  The group walked out of the food court, leaving the couple alone once again.

  Avery apologized as they went. “I mean, I could’ve guessed Kurt was a racist son of a bitch, but, I don’t know…I didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it.”

  Tyler had dealt with worse, especially being a kid from the ghettos of Atlanta. The prejudice was usually subtle: a woman switching her purse to the other hand on the subway, a group of people going to the opposite sidewalk in the park…even as a government employee, he’d been given an assignment to a group of mostly black scientists.

  That kind of stuff didn’t bother him, not really, but when someone got right in his face and used a slur…well, that was an entirely different story.

  “Next time, don’t punch him in the face. Kick him in the balls,” Ray suggested, and May chuckled.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Tyler said. He had calmed down drastically. Being called a ‘darky’ wasn’t anything compared to being dead, and without Avery, Florence, and Ray, he and May surely would’ve been just that. “We aren’t staying long. We’ll be out of your hair in a day, maybe two.”

  “Well,” May said, “don’t get ahead of yourself.”

  Tyler rolled his eyes at her, but she was too busy looking up at Ray Foster.

  They cut through the middle part of the mall, went past the empty tables and the Starbucks. There was a LensCrafters, the inside darkened, and a Hollister clothing store, the smell of cheap cologne still in the
air.

  “We sleep in here,” Avery said, pointing to the Macy’s. “They have all those display beds upstairs, you know. They’re not the most comfortable, but it beats sleeping on the floor.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ray added. “Kurt and Skylar sleep on the opposite end of the mall. They like to keep to themselves.”

  “Good,” Tyler said.

  He was just realizing, now that the adrenaline no longer coursed through his veins, how tired he was. The nap he had taken back at the house had only left him wanting more sleep.

  “Flo’s probably already conked out,” Avery said. “I’m gonna go check on her and probably hit the hay myself.” Looking at Ray, he said, “You give them the grand tour, eh?”

  Ray saluted. “Will do, El Capitan.”

  May giggled again, like a giddy schoolgirl.

  Once Avery headed off to the escalator that was no longer running, Ray reached up and stretched his arms. His back popped a few times.

  “So, yeah,” he said, “this is where we sleep. You guys don’t have to sleep here if you don’t want, but the beds make it a little cozier.” He waved them on. “I’ll show you where the basketball games go down.”

  They walked in the opposite direction and took a left at another corridor. Tyler couldn’t believe just how large this mall seemed. They passed clothing stores, shoe stores, a place you could get an ‘authentic Asian massage,’ whatever that meant. Near the end of their current corridor was a place called ‘Sports Town’. It was bigger than all the other places, and one of the few that weren’t shuttered and completely dark.

  A few electric, red lights glowed softly, deep in the shadows. Tyler squinted and made out that it was a scoreboard on the back wall, the red lights reading ‘HOME - 0 AWAY – 0’.

  “You guys take basketball very seriously,” May said.

  Ray shrugged. “Not much else to do. I’ve read almost every book in the little bookstore across from the Finish Line. Some I’ve read twice. Avery won’t let me hook the generators up to a television and DVD player, but he has no problem turning the scoreboard on.” Leaning forward and covering half of his mouth with his hand, he said, “He gets pretty competitive. Plus, the scoreboard doesn’t suck a lot of juice. Or so he says.”

 

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