Apocalypse Assassins: The Complete Series

by D. Laine

  Despite the optimistic words exchanged before we left the safety of the mine, I saw enough concern on the others’ faces to make me nauseous. Reminding myself that there was nothing in my stomach to throw up, I trudged ahead with the rest of the group.

  From overhearing bits and pieces of conversation between the assassins earlier, I knew we had a three-mile hike ahead of us—possibly more if Kent was wrong about the location of the rest stop. By the time we put the first quarter-mile behind us—without spotting a single tag—I started to relax. Just a little, because I also knew the hardest part was yet to come.

  The darkness blanketed us. Trees and boulders lined the valley we hiked through. More than once, I sidestepped something in my path I didn’t see until it was directly in front of me.

  “You okay?” David whispered after I barely avoided a nose-first collision with a tree. His hand curled around my elbow to steady me.

  Dylan snorted softly. I shot him a glare over David’s shoulder, which I doubted he saw.

  His eyes were pointed straight ahead, wide and alert. He held a semi-automatic rifle laxly in his hands, but I knew how quickly that could change. Observing his focus, and sensing the security provided by him and the other assassins, I felt surprisingly safe.

  “I’m fine.” I gave David a reassuring smile.

  “Hold up.” The order came from the front of the group. I recognized the sound of Marcus’s voice. Squinting through the darkness, I saw his hand lifted in the air with a signal I knew: stop.

  My heart thumped wildly. My eyes watered from the strain of trying to spot the threat. It took me a full ten seconds to realize we hadn’t stopped because of that. We had walked the length of the valley. We had reached the point in our trek where we would be forced out into the open.

  They were simply being cautious before we left the protection of the mountains. No terrifying monsters with sharp teeth raced toward us.

  Not yet.

  Jake stood beside Marcus and peered through the night vision binoculars. “Pocket of four dozen tags an eighth of a mile to the southeast.” He swiveled to look west—the direction we needed to go. “Nothing on the interstate as far as I can see. Might run into a few hidden from sight. There are a lot of cars blocking my view.”

  “We’re going to trade trees for cars. Cover is cover.” Keith swept his gaze over the group. “We ready?”

  The question wasn’t for the assassins. His eyes came to a stop on David and me. I jerked my chin up and down rapidly in response.

  Beside me, Dylan hiked his gun higher. “Let’s do this.”

  From here, the interstate angled away from us and ran through the wide open desert. No mountain ranges bordered it. No trees lined the shoulder. There was nothing to hide us, other than the abandoned cars that dotted the gray landscape. And the darkness.

  It was both a blessing and a curse. The tags couldn’t spot us from a distance in the dark, but we couldn’t spot them either. My skin crawled like it knew they were out there, hidden and waiting to pounce.

  The first steps into the open were the hardest. It was similar to what I suspected walking through a landmine field would feel like, where each step could be your last. Unlike earlier, I didn’t relax after the first quarter mile passed uneventfully.

  Though I couldn’t see more than a few yards, I kept glancing to the southeast where Jake had spotted a group of tags. I only stopped looking when I realized the bigger danger would likely come from what lay ahead of us.

  Jake stopped to peer through the binoculars often enough to reassure me that he would spot any threats before they spotted us. I wanted to feel confident. I wanted to believe we would make it to safety undetected.

  A shrill, inhuman cry in the distance reminded me that the odds were still very much against us.

  “What direction?” someone hissed from the front of the group.

  “Southeast,” Dylan whispered from his position in the rear. He made walking backwards look easy as he faced the road behind us. “Keep moving. Faster.”

  Another shriek sounded closer—this one clearly behind us. A surge of adrenaline shot through me, and my feet automatically picked up the pace. Kent hung back to take up a defensive position alongside Dylan as a chorus of three or four alien screeches blended together in a hair-raising song.

  “Move,” Dylan growled. “They’re tracking us.”

  Fear exploded in my chest. I barely felt my legs moving under me. I kept up with the rest of the group as we dodged cars and partially consumed bodies in our path. We were one gear shy of running when Jake forced us to a skidded stop.

  With the binoculars to his eyes, he announced, “Incoming from the west. Two dozen in catatonic states.”

  “We’re surrounded,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Jake, give me the binoculars,” Dylan whispered harshly.

  Jake brushed by me to hand the gadget to Dylan. He peered through the viewfinder less than a second before he whipped them back at Jake.

  “Six of them, coming fast,” he growled. To the rest of us, he hissed, “Take cover.”

  Someone grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me behind an abandoned car off the side of the road with nothing but the wide open desert at my back. As daunting as that stretch of darkness was, I focused my attention on the highway—and the shadows that moved there.

  Three tags darted between vehicles two lanes over. I sucked in a breath and dropped my head behind the cover of the tire before I could spot the others—or they spotted me.

  David’s wide, terrified eyes peered over my shoulder, scanning for movement. Someone else hunched down on the other side of him. Whoever it was faced away from us and communicated with the rest of the group, where they hid behind a minivan pressed up against the bumper of the car, through a series of hand gestures I didn’t understand.

  Surely, they had a plan. I wanted to know what it was, but didn’t dare draw attention to myself.

  A high-pitched cry pierced the silence, interrupting the exchange going on to my left. Everyone froze. Like me, they all melted into the ground. I temporarily considered rolling under the car, but realized I couldn’t with the bag on my back. Taking it off would make too much noise.

  The sound of feet dragging across blacktop funneled to me under the car, and I knew the tags were close. One of them wailed, and I tucked my chin with a cringe. A shriek morphed into a low growl. Another answered. Then another.

  I shrugged my shoulders in an attempt to cover my ears. It didn’t work. The sounds grew louder as the tags drew steadily closer.

  I trapped the air in my lungs when a pair of blood-spattered Nikes shuffled around the front of the car. I would see the owner of the shoes if I dared to look up. Fear paralyzed me, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Terror pushed me against the tire with a desperate, silent prayer for invisibility.

  Two loud sniffs came from above me, and I knew the tag had caught my scent. My finger flexed over the trigger of the gun in my hand as I slowly inched the barrel in the direction of my target.

  They moved at once, coming from all angles.

  The tag closest to me lunged around the bumper. He raced by me before I could pull the trigger. I didn’t have time to register my sheer luck before another stumbled into my sights. This one, I greeted with a bullet between the eyes.

  Gunfire erupted behind me. From the sound of it, we faced a large number. Way more than the six Dylan had spotted, and I wondered if the larger group from the west had joined the frenzy. Whatever numbers we faced, I heard them closing in. Their growls came from all directions. They darted in and out of the shadows, tactically forcing me to waste precious bullets.

  Four bodies lay in a pile near the front bumper of the car when the hollow click from my gun forced me to stop shooting. My hands trembled as I rammed spare ammunition into the chamber. Fully loaded, I scanned for more tags hiding in the dark, but saw none.

  From the shouts and number of gunshots behind me, I realized the rest of the group hadn’t fared
as well. I spun around to help, but ground to a halt when I spotted a tag bent over something a few steps off the shoulder of the road. It didn’t notice me. As I inched closer, I realized why.

  All I saw of him was the soles of his boots, but that was enough.

  “David!”

  I fired at the tag straddling my friend with shaky hands. The bullet struck the back of its neck, six inches short of my target. Its spine had to have been severed by the shot, but it lurched to a stand and turned its ravenous eyes on me. I froze when I spotted the blood dripping from its chin.

  David.

  It sprang at me. I knew I needed to act. Run. Shoot it again. Do something. All I saw was the unmoving lump on the ground behind it.

  A thunderous boom shattered my stupor. I blinked as the tag crumbled at my feet, then looked up to find Dylan eyeing me.

  Why was he staring at me? Why wasn’t he running to help David?

  Why wasn’t I running to help David?

  “David!” I staggered toward my friend on lead-filled legs.

  Dylan cut me off after a few steps. His arms wrapped around my waist, hoisting me in the air in his effort to hold me back.

  “Let me go!” My feet kicked the air. “He needs help!”

  “It’s too late,” Dylan murmured into my ear.

  “No! Let me go!” I clawed at Dylan’s arms as he tugged me backward. “I need to help him!”

  Through the deafening whooshing noise in my ears, I heard Dylan shouting. Other voices yelled. Gunshots thundered. Screeches and growls closed in. It all sounded muffled, drowned out by my own hysteria.

  David wasn’t getting up.

  “Thea!” Dylan twisted me around gruffly. I blinked to focus on his face. His lips moved, but I heard nothing.

  Behind him, the others moved in slow motion. Tags darted between cars.

  And David . . .

  “He’s dead, Thea!”

  Dylan’s voice finally broke through my haze. His blunt words worked like an open palm to my face, and I flinched from their impact. The whooshing in my ears faded as Dylan forced me to meet his gaze.

  “You with me?” he asked.

  I nodded numbly.

  “Then run.”

  He grabbed my shoulders and shoved me onto the road.

  6

  DYLAN

  Pure adrenaline kept us alive. That and a hell of a lot of luck.

  We used the fireballs to cover our six. The flames left in our wake were all that prevented the tags from overcoming us. It slowed them down, but they always found a way through.

  “Ten more coming from the west!” Jake yelled.

  I heard them before I saw them. My finger itched to squeeze the trigger, but I waited for a clear shot. Every bullet needed to count.

  The instant they raced through the curtain of ash in front of us, we were ready. A burst of ammo from three of us cut them down. We never stopped running. I sprinted past the last dead tag before its body hit the ground.

  I pushed Thea through the narrow gap between two cars with my free hand to keep her ahead of me. Where I could always see her.

  “We’re almost to the rest stop!” Jake announced from his position in the lead.

  “The mob on our six is getting bigger!” Maria yelled.

  I glanced over my shoulder long enough to spot three orange-red balls of fire get tossed into the air. They exploded on contact with the ground, creating a wall of fire. The bulk of the tags screeched their frustration. A few slipped around the flames unscathed. Marcus took care of them with three rapid shots.

  As we ran, a shadow rose out of the desert ahead of us. A sign.

  Rest Stop: Exit Here.

  Though the off ramp was long and curvy, I could see the end in sight. We could make it. We might actually—

  Jake skidded to a sudden stop. I plowed into Thea, sandwiching her between us. Someone slammed into me, and we all piled up between two vehicles gathered near the exit. Gunfire and curses erupted behind me while I looked to see what had alarmed Jake.

  “Holy fuck.” If he had an estimate on the number of tags that created the dark wave rolling our way, I didn’t want to know. Unable to take my eyes off of them, I yelled over my shoulder, “Keith, we’re going to need that gas can now!”

  “We need all guns up front!” Jake added.

  It went against every survival instinct I had when I ran toward the horde barreling toward us. My strength came from the assassins on either side of me. I would fight for each and every one of them, and Thea. Our group mantra echoed in my head with every step. We were in this together—live or die.

  Forming an impenetrable wall, we opened fire. Dozens of tag bodies littered the road, but the horde didn’t thin. They kept coming, vaulting over their fallen brethren with hunger in their bloodshot eyes.

  “Go!” I shoved Thea in the direction of the rest stop. “Get to the door!”

  She took off. The rest of us slowed to cover Keith as he twisted the cap off the gas can. He dumped it as we sprinted toward the entrance to the building, Thea twenty paces ahead of us.

  Beyond her, the throng of tags climbed the barrier separating the parking lot from the interstate. They hurtled over it like a tsunami sweeping across the ground. We shifted our attention to the front of the pack. If they beat us to the door, we were as good as dead.

  Behind me, Keith ignited the fire. Flames fanned out, following the trail of gasoline and creating a somewhat protective wall that held back most of the tags on our asses. Seconds later, Thea reached the door.

  When it didn’t open, Jake pointed his gun at it. “Out of the way!”

  Thea rolled to the side as Jake fired off a short burst, splintering the doorjamb. He kicked it open and disappeared inside.

  I shoved Thea in behind him before turning to provide cover. Marcus and Maria flanked me while the Ringers brought up the rear and created a semi-circle of fire around us and the door. It held the horde back, as we had hoped it would. Hopefully long enough for us to find the entrance to the tunnel.

  Once we were all safely inside, Keith dumped a puddle of gasoline in the doorway. The flames zipped along the trail before engulfing the doorjamb.

  While furious tags screamed from the other side of the wall of fire, I turned to look for Jake and Thea. A white light bounced around on the other side of the wide open corridor. “Jake? Thea?”

  “Here,” Jake answered.

  “You find it?” Keith wondered.

  Our feet pounded the hard floor as we hurried to where Jake and Thea had stopped beside a door. The lock had already been disengaged by the butt of Jake’s rifle. It swung open, waiting for us.

  “There’s nothing up here,” Jake explained.

  “Except a bunch of windows,” Maria muttered.

  Picking up on her unease, I followed the direction of her gaze. I hadn’t noticed until she pointed them out, but half of the building was made of glass. “Son of a bitch.”

  “That’s not going to keep them out for long,” Keith noted. “Let’s go.”

  Jake led the way down the narrow flight of stairs with the flashlight. I took the rear behind Marcus. As I pulled the door shut behind me, I heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering.

  “Shit.” I spun around and nearly plowed into Marcus. “Go, go, go! They’re in!”

  With the lock busted, we had no way to secure the door. Finding the tunnel was our only way of getting out of this alive. Otherwise, we were sitting ducks in the rest stop’s musky basement.

  Three flashlights washed over every inch of the walls and the floor. We shoved tables and chairs aside, toppled shelves, and ripped up carpet as a stampede vibrated the ceiling above us.

  “Where is it?” I demanded of no one in particular.

  Marcus helped me roll a heavy drum with the word FLAMMABLE painted on it. Liquid splashed around inside as we checked the floor beneath it. Nothing.

  Above us, the number of footsteps multiplied. Their shrieks and growls grew louder. Hungr
ier. Closer.

  “Over here!” Maria whisper-shouted from the opposite side of the room. “I found something.”

  As Marcus and I raced passed the bottom of the stairs, a loud crash came from the door above us. I didn’t bother swinging my flashlight up to see what it was. The screech that drifted down to us from above confirmed enough. Goosebumps peppered my neck as I hurried toward the others, where they stood around a large hole in the floor. A metal door at least eight feet in diameter had been swung open.

  “They’re coming!” Marcus informed the others. “Go!”

  Keith launched two fireballs, igniting the stairs and the four tags rushing us. “Only three of these left,” he told us.

  “Save them,” I ordered as I cut down another pair of tags on the stairs.

  Behind me, the others started the climb down the metal rings into the tunnel. Kent swept his light over the sturdy steel hatch. “What’s going to keep them from following us?”

  Marcus halted his descent. Eyes level with the latch, he quickly inspected it. “Nothing. There’s no lock, or—”

  “We’ll wedge something!” Maria screamed from inside the tunnel. “Come on!”

  Three more tags launched themselves over the railing to bypass the fire spreading up the basement stairs. I gunned them down midair, and turned to Keith as their bodies splattered to the floor.

  I didn’t have to say anything. He was already thinking what I was thinking.

  With a nod, Keith unscrewed the cap on the gasoline can. Kent and I picked off the bravest tags as Keith flung what was left of the gas over the basement walls and floor. The stench brought water to my eyes—and flashes of an unpleasant memory to the surface. I shook my head, clearing the image of my parents’ car, my sister, the agency . . .

  Keith tossed the empty container, then tipped his chin toward the tunnel as he withdrew the last of the fireballs. “Go,” he ordered.