Dark Days | Book 7 | Hell Town

by Lukens, Mark

  He hoped to God that Ray and the others had found somewhere safe back there beyond the store.

  “Luke,” Ray called from the back.

  Luke didn’t bother shooting out through the windows into the blizzard. He couldn’t see the rippers yet. Why bother wasting the bullets?

  He raced deeper into the store, through an archway that led to a broken door held open by Ray that led to a small hallway.

  “A lot of them out there,” Luke told Ray. “Coming this way. Maybe they’re looking for shelter from the storm. You find something back here?”

  “This hall leads to a mechanics’ bay. There are other entrances to the bay, but they all seem to be closed off. Not the most ideal location, but better than nothing.”

  Luke agreed. He followed Ray into the hallway. He wanted to close the door, but it was busted open, nearly off its hinges—useless as a barrier now. The hallway was gloomy, almost too dark to see. Ray already had his flashlight out, aiming it down at the floor as they hurried past two doors: one was labeled Employee Restroom, and the other Locker Room.

  There was another door on the left side, a door with a big glass panel in it that led to a waiting area for the oil and tire business. The door was locked, but it wouldn’t be difficult for the rippers to get through it. The hall ended at a metal door that looked a lot sturdier. Ray opened it and went inside. Luke followed him.

  Once inside the mechanics’ bay, Ray closed the door. Even though he tried to be quiet, the door made a metallic thump in the frame. He locked the doorhandle and the deadbolt. Then Luke and Ray pushed a piece of equipment in front of the door.

  The mechanics’ bay was much larger than Luke thought it was going to be. There were four bays to work on cars, each with a lift and a crawlspace underneath. Each bay had its own large rollup garage door. All of the doors were closed.

  “All of them are locked,” Ray said, noticing that Luke was staring at the doors.

  Luke nodded. “Good.”

  Against the back wall were some wood and metal cabinets and countertops, with spaces in between them where large tool boxes had been wheeled into place. There were pegboards on the walls with tools and auto parts hanging from hooks. At the far end of the large room racks of tires were lined up all the way to the ceiling. Hoses for impact tools snaked along the floor. There was a big air compressor near the tires. Posters and signs hung on the walls higher up, advertising brands of tires, oil, and auto parts.

  It was cold inside the bay, but at least it was a little warmer than outside, at least they were out of the freezing wind. The smell of oil and grease lingered in the air—Luke could practically taste it on his tongue. There were dark stains all over the floor. Some of it was probably oil and grease, but some of it could be blood. Tools were scattered all over the floor and benches, some of the toolbox drawers open. It looked almost like the mechanics had dropped their tools and run, or maybe had fought rippers, or fought each other when they started to turn. Luke could imagine what it would have been like here as mechanics and customers turned into rippers, the mechanics holding dangerous tools in their hands, suddenly unsure of what they’d been doing only minutes before, looking down and wondering what the tools were for, their minds suddenly scrambled.

  Josh led Emma over to a spot where a toolbox had been rolled out of the way. He helped her sit down on the floor so she could rest. Mike cleared any tools away so they would have a place to sleep for the night.

  A banging noise sounded against the first rollup garage door.

  Luke spun toward the door, his pistol aimed at it, his outstretched arm rock-steady.

  Screeches and yells came from beyond the door, then kicks and punches at the metal. It was so loud. The metal seemed so flimsy.

  “It’ll hold,” Ray said in a whisper from right behind Luke.

  Luke figured Ray was saying that more for Mike’s sake than anyone else’s.

  “Shhh,” Ray said, putting a finger to his lips.

  They all stayed quiet, none of them making a sound. But Luke kept his pistol aimed at the garage doors just in case.

  There were more rippers at the other garage doors, pounding on them, kicking at them, beating at them with weapons. Yelling and screaming.

  It was so loud in the mechanics’ bay now, the funhouse sound of monsters trying to get inside.

  Luke aimed his gun at the doors. They were holding so far.

  But for how long?

  CHAPTER 14

  Petra

  Petra and Jacob didn’t talk much on their trek through the woods to the road where his pickup truck was parked. Both of them were quiet, listening for sounds of rippers, keeping their eyes peeled for any movement among the trees.

  But none of the other rippers had followed them. The rest were probably feasting on the other dead rippers—they obviously had no problem eating their own.

  As they walked, Petra finally had time to assess her body, making sure she hadn’t really injured herself from her fall from the second-story bedroom window. The nerve stinger pain was gone and her legs seemed okay. No bad pains in her neck, back, or arms.

  Her second order of business was to assess the threat Jacob might pose. She studied him as he walked ahead of her. He knew she still had her gun in her hand, but he didn’t seem worried that she might shoot him in the back. He seemed confident. Almost cocky. Of course his confidence might come from whatever kind of conditioning he’d done through the years.

  Ex-military? Special Forces? Maybe, but it didn’t feel right to her. His skill with a gun might point to military training, but he could have trained in other ways. Petra knew that some of Diego’s men had trained constantly with weapons.

  Jacob was definitely in his forties, probably late forties, or maybe even early fifties. He had fine wrinkle lines around his eyes and mouth, gray in his short dark hair, but he was in very good physical condition. He navigated the hilly terrain easily, obviously familiar with the outdoors.

  His clothes looked newer, his black hiking boots sturdy. He didn’t look like someone hiding in the woods or living out of a vehicle. He looked like someone who had a place to stay, like the people at Jo’s store: newer clothing, nourished bodies, weapons with plenty of ammo.

  Could he be a Dark Angel? He didn’t have the letters carved into his forehead, but that might not mean anything. The ones with the DAs carved in their foreheads could be soldiers or slaves. The Dragon could have officers or spies who weren’t made to take the brand.

  Jacob had saved her life, and Petra appreciated that, but she was still wary of him. He felt like a bad man. She’d been around plenty of bad men in her life, and she liked to think that she had developed a radar for those kind of men. But these days a lot of men had to be bad—they had no choice. It was a new world now.

  Petra wasn’t normally much of a talker, and she usually found herself not very interested in other people’s conversations or anything about their lives, but she felt that it was imperative that she try to find out more about Jacob.

  “You’re heading south,” she said as she moved up beside him. The trees had thinned out a little, the terrain flattening, making the walking easier.

  He nodded.

  “Where down south? You have a destination in mind?”

  He shrugged, not looking at her. “Just heading where it’s warmer.”

  “Florida?”

  “Probably.”

  “There will be a lot of rippers down there.”

  He nodded like he’d already taken that into consideration.

  “Where were you coming from?”

  “Cleveland,” he said. The word was clipped just a little, but he didn’t seem too aggravated about the interrogation just yet. “You?”

  “Virginia.”

  He smiled—a cold smile on an expressionless face. “I see we don’t trust each other completely yet.”

  “Thank you for what you did back there.”

  “Saving your life?”

  “Yeah. And sorry, I d
on’t trust anyone right away. Especially not now.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “Where’d you learn to shoot like that? In the military?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve had some training.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “You have a silencer on your gun. That’s not something you see every day.”

  He shrugged again but still didn’t respond.

  “You traveling with anyone else?”

  “Not at the moment. Not unless you want to go with me.”

  “Have you seen a lot of the Dark Angels on your travels down here from Cleveland?”

  “A few.”

  “Killed some of them?”

  “A few.”

  Petra was still getting a bad feeling about Jacob. Something was really bothering her about him.

  He stopped walking and looked at her. His gun was holstered inside his jacket, tucked away somewhere in there.

  Petra stopped and faced him. She still had her gun in her hand. She wasn’t putting it away just yet.

  “Look,” he said, sighing like the whole conversation was beginning to wear him out. “You don’t have to go with me. Just because I . . . helped you back there doesn’t mean that you owe me your life or your allegiance. You’re free to go your own way any time you want to.”

  Petra didn’t say anything.

  “But we’re kind of out here in the boonies. Not a lot of vehicles around, but plenty of rippers from what I’ve seen so far. You can ride with me for a little while if you want to. If we spot another vehicle somewhere, you can take it. There are millions of them sitting around with gas in the tanks. That sound fair?”

  Petra nodded, still watching him.

  He started walking again. “Where were you headed?”

  “South,” she answered.

  “Did you have a specific destination in mind?”

  “Somewhere warmer,” she said, matching his earlier answers.

  He smiled at their impasse. “Okay. We’re still feeling each other out. I get that. My truck is just ahead. Over that hill and through those trees. If you want to go with me, fine. If not, that’s fine too. Your choice.”

  Petra didn’t respond. She kept walking beside him.

  “But could you do me a favor and put your gun away?” he asked her. “It’s kind of making me nervous.”

  Petra kept her gun in her hand for a moment as they walked through the trees, both of them trying to be quiet, but it was impossible to be silent while walking over the carpet of dead leaves.

  Maybe Jacob was okay. Maybe he wasn’t going to hurt her or kill her. If he wanted to kill her he could have shot her when she’d jumped out the window. He could have just waited in the woods while the rippers tore her apart.

  She slid her gun into the waistband of her pants and pulled her hoodie down over it.

  Jacob sighed with relief, smiled at her.

  They climbed the small hill up to the road, then moved to the edge of the woods. Jacob made a gesture for her to wait while he moved closer to a tree, scanning the road for rippers.

  While Jacob looked for any rippers, Petra stared at his truck, a Ford F-150 with an extended cab. It looked newer, maybe only a year or two old. The bed looked empty from what she could see, the windows and windshield intact. She wondered why he had parked here on the side of the road. To go into the woods? Why? It was almost like he had gone specifically through the woods to Jeff’s house, like he knew someone was going to be there at Jeff’s house. Had he been waiting in the woods for her?

  She looked at Jacob. He had his gun out now, aiming it at her. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t angry. His face was a blank slate.

  “I’m going to give you some instructions,” he said, “and you’re going to follow them. Is that understood?”

  CHAPTER 15

  Petra

  Petra remained still. She knew she couldn’t grab her gun quickly enough. And even if she could, there was no way she could outshoot Jacob.

  “I could practically see the wheels turning in your mind,” Jacob said with a smile, the mean twist of a smile, like he was trying to look charming. But anyone could see through his façade; anyone could see the evil just underneath.

  Petra didn’t answer, didn’t ask what the hell he was babbling about.

  “You saw my truck. You wondered why I had parked it here. Why I would park and walk a mile and a half through the woods to Jeff’s house?”

  “You knew I would eventually come back to the house.”

  “It seemed like the most logical thing. I figured you would want to see if there might be any survivors among your friends.”

  “And were there?”

  “So I hiked through the woods a few hours ago,” he continued, not answering her question, “and I waited, watching the house.”

  “You’re with the Dark Angels. You’re with him.”

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, his smile disappearing so quickly, his face suddenly stone cold. “You’re going to take your backpack off and toss it over there on the ground. Then you’re going to take your gun and any extra clips you have out and throw them over by your backpack.” He gestured with a nod of his head at the strip of grass between the edge of the woods and the road where the truck was parked. “You’re going to move nice and slow. Nice and easy.”

  Petra thought about asking Jacob why he was doing this. If he wanted to kill her he could have done it by now. No, he wanted her alive. He wanted to take her somewhere.

  South? To him? To the Dragon? To the hell town she’d seen in her dreams?

  “We ain’t got all day,” Jacob said. His voice was lower, a warning tone. “You’re a smart cookie, I can tell that. You've figured out that I don’t want to kill you, that I want you to go somewhere with me. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t, or won’t, hurt you. You’ve seen the way I can shoot. I could take out one of your kneecaps if I wanted to. Hell, I could shoot off each of your fingers from here. Lots of things I could do. Painful things.”

  Petra shrugged her backpack off and tossed it onto the strip of grass. She used her left hand to pull her pistol out of the waistband of her pants. She tossed it onto the grass beside the backpack. “No extra clips,” she told him. “Just a box of bullets in my bag.”

  “Good, Petra. You’re doing very good so far.”

  She felt like telling him to drop the act, but she didn’t bother.

  “I’ve got a pair of handcuffs on me. I can either handcuff you in the front where you’ll probably be a lot more comfortable, or I can handcuff your hands behind your back. Or, if you really feel like fighting—and let me just warn you that I fight as well as I shoot—I could hogtie you and lay you down in the bed of the truck. You see? How things go are all up to you.”

  “You always talk this much?”

  The first genuine smile from Jacob. “Funny.”

  He pulled out the pair of handcuffs from a pocket of his jacket while keeping his pistol aimed at her. He dangled the cuffs from his finger for a moment, then tossed them to her. They landed on the ground in front of her with a faint metallic clinking.

  “All up to you,” he reminded her.

  Petra bent down slowly and picked up the handcuffs. She snapped one of the cuffs on her left wrist and closed it. She closed the other one on her right wrist and locked it so that it wasn’t too tight.

  “You chose wisely. Don’t blame you at all.”

  Petra didn’t say anything.

  “Now comes the next part. You’re doing so well. Don’t go and screw it all up. Okay?”

  She still didn’t say anything.

  “We’re going to walk to the truck, and you’re going to get in the passenger seat. If you’re good, I won’t tie your legs together. Which is important if we need to run for any reason. I might not have time to cut your legs loose.”

  She nodded, showing him that she understood.

  “Good. Let’s walk.”

  Petra walk
ed to the truck. Jacob darted ahead of her and opened the door for her. She got up inside of the truck and seated herself with no problem. Jacob closed the door and bolted around the front of the truck with her backpack in one hand. He opened the driver’s door and threw her pack onto the back seat. He got into the truck, closed the door and shoved his gun into a holster inside of his jacket. He started the truck.

  “Remember . . . be cool,” he said.

  Petra remained motionless.

  “I’m going to put your seatbelt on.”

  She didn’t resist. She remained still as he pulled the shoulder and lap belt over her and clicked it in place.

  “Safety first,” he said as he put his own seatbelt on and shifted into drive, turning around on the road, then picking up speed.

  “You’re taking me to see him, aren’t you?”

  “No sense lying about it, I guess. We’re not going back to the store, I can tell you that.”

  Petra’s heart skipped a beat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “We know all about the store. All the food and supplies there.”

  “What did you do? Did you kill them?”

  He didn’t answer. Only smiled.

  “No,” she said as it dawned on her. “You haven’t yet, have you? You weren’t able to get inside, were you?”

  “We’ll get in eventually.”

  “Don’t you guys have enough already?”

  “It’s not about having enough. It’s about control. He can explain it a lot better than I can.”

  Petra was quiet for a moment. They were still driving down the road through the woods.

  “Besides, he’s got something special planned for them. For the store.”

  She didn’t bother asking him what the special plan was—he wasn’t going to answer her; he was just teasing her.

  “Crystal. Did she make it?”

  Jacob shrugged.

  “She was with me. She went to help Lance. They didn’t shoot her. They took her. Is she still alive?”

  “Don’t know. That’s not my area. I was sent up here to track you down.”

  “And bring me back to him. Why? What does he want with us?”