Dark Revival (EMP Lodge Series Book 6)

by Grace Hamilton

  She looked back at the camera and got an idea.

  “8-9-2-8!” she shouted.

  The men looked at each other. She noticed a few of the guns lowering a few inches and then, as if they were dominoes, the men toppled to the ground at almost the same instant. She stared at the scene before her, trying to make sense of it. They were all dead. Why would Neil kill all of the men protecting him?

  She didn't get long to mull over her next move. A whirring sound, followed by a series of clicks came from the door behind her. The door was opening!

  25

  Neil sauntered out of the safe room, a malevolent smile on his face. She stared at him in horror. What kind of man killed without even blinking an eye? She raised her gun, but he jumped forward snatching it out of her hands before she could make a move.

  “Why?” she asked. The single word an umbrella of everything she wanted to ask him. There were so many questions she wanted answered. The idea of dying at his hand made her furious. It wasn't right.

  He shrugged. “I think you're going to need to be more specific. Why am I here? Why do I want you all dead? Why did I send you running off to Ravena? Really, Megan, let's narrow it down.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. She stared at the bodies piled all around them.

  “Ohh, that,” he said, grinning like a fool. “I didn't trust them before and you helped me confirm my suspicions.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” she asked, thinking he was seriously losing his mind.

  “The code,” he spat out. “Which one of them told you the code?”

  She didn't answer him, only stared.

  He waved a hand. “It doesn't matter. That was an old code. It’s updated every twelve hours or more often if I think someone knows it.”

  “But, they,” she started to explain how she got it, but for some reason, she wanted to protect the escapee. The men were already dead and probably deserving of their death.

  “Don't bother defending any of them. Humans are predictable and they let their emotions dictate their actions. Like you; look at how you reacted when you saw me that day. You saw my pain and ignored everything else,” he smiled. “You even ignored your boyfriend and his pal. They warned you, but humans, well, they make decisions from the heart.”

  “It's called compassion,” she growled. “Try it sometime. You might like it.”

  “Ha! I would never lower myself to such ridiculous emotions. I’m superior because I’m not like the rest of you. I can plan, control and predict. When I can't, I eliminate the threat,” he said so callously it nearly made Megan vomit.

  “You are a horrible, despicable human,” she stressed the word to make sure he knew he was no better than anyone else on the planet.

  He smirked. “I may be human, but I’m nothing like any of you. I don't like people in general. They will do anything, screw anyone over to get ahead—”

  “Uh, like you,” she said, interrupting his speech.

  He ignored her. “I don't like to take risks. I don't like the unknown. I need to be in control. It’s my way or no way. These men,” he curled a lip in disgust. “They weren't worth my time. They served a purpose, I clearly won and now, they're dead.”

  She shook her head, unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

  “You're insane,” she breathed.

  “Maybe, but I'm going to be the last one standing. My men made sure of that. I can't believe how gullible they all were. You,” he said looking directly at her. “You at least put up a little fight. Your friends did, but you believed my story from the get go. I would say that should teach you a lesson about taking anyone at face value, but it doesn't matter now. You learned the lesson too late.”

  Before Megan knew what he was going to do, he reached behind him. It only took her a second to realize he had a gun. As he was pulling it around, she made her move, lunging into his stomach with her head and shoulders, pushing him into the solid steel wall of the shelter.

  “Oomph!” the breath was pushed out of his lungs as she slammed into him.

  He was far too strong, stronger than she’d expected. He pushed back sending her flailing to catch her balance. It gave him enough space to pull the gun up to a firing position. Megan bent over once again, aiming lower diving at his knees, slamming him into the wall again. He pounded the butt of the gun into her back, causing her to scream in pain and back away.

  Neil was too fast, he lunged forward and tackled her to the ground. The butt of the gun slammed into the side of her head. Megan blinked away the tears and tried to focus on the face of the man intent on killing her. She couldn't see straight. There were stars dancing in front of her eyes. She raised her hands up, blindly swinging and clawing.

  The butt of the gun came down on her shoulder as she deflected the next blow meant for her head.

  “No!” she screamed. “No!”

  Her arms flailed, creating enough diversion for her to grab hold of the gun and toss it to the side. There was no way she would get the chance to use it on him. It was better if neither of them had it. Her victory was short-lived. His hands were around her throat. Neil straddled her, sitting on her stomach and continued lifting her head off the ground and slamming it back down, over and over. It felt as if her brain was going to explode.

  Megan's eyes filled with tears as pain rocked through her. She slapped and clawed at his face. She felt skin under her nails and knew she’d gouged him. It wasn't long before the lack of oxygen impacted her ability to fight back. She couldn't seem to get her fingers to do as she was instructing. Her hands felt like giant blobs and her arms were suddenly far too heavy to keep over her head. The stars were back in front of her eyes. Her lungs were burning and it was then her brain put it all together. He was choking her to death. She was too weak to fight back. He was winning. She was dying.

  She dug deep, searching for an ounce of energy. She found it, buried in her love for her daughter. She put every bit of strength into her right fist and swung as hard as she could. She missed her mark but hit him in the side of the head. Her world started to go dark and she knew this was it. The lack of oxygen pulled her further under, into the abyss. In the distance, she heard him laughing. She wanted to scream and rage at the injustice of it all. Evil wasn't supposed to win! This was wrong!

  A loud sound rang out and a second later, she felt Neil jerk. His hands loosened from around her throat. He was screaming. She wanted to swing and fight, but her arms refused to obey her commands. She sucked in air in big gulps, making herself hiccup and choke. Her throat burned. Megan rolled to her side, hoping it would allow the oxygen to enter her lungs faster and easier.

  Her vision began to clear. Neil was on the ground beside her, screaming and holding his leg. She looked up and stared into the distance.

  Brenda?

  She got up on her elbows to get a better view. The woman was on one knee, a rifle in her arms, aimed in her direction. Megan couldn't believe what she was seeing. Brenda was alive! She briefly wondered whether the others were nearby, but Neil's screaming reminded her the situation wasn't over. The man was still alive. She prayed someone else was close and would finish the job. No. It was only her. She was on her own in this fight.

  Brenda had given her a slight advantage. This was her chance to get him. She had a small window to overpower him, but she had to act fast. If he got into the shelter, he would lock the door and they’d never get in. She began crawling towards him. He was on the move, dragging his leg behind him as he headed towards the open door of the saferoom.

  Megan continued to suck in air greedily, trying to catch up to him. Despite his injury, he was moving fast. She’d hoped to jump on him and beat him to a pulp, but her body had other plans. It was still weak and clumsy. Blood was dripping down her face and into her eyes. She wiped it away and gasped when she saw him slither into the room. She forced herself to move faster and managed to slip through the closing door. It slid shut behind her, making a quiet thud.

  “Dammit,
” he muttered, pulling a towel out of a basket and pushing it against his leg.

  She looked up and around the rectangle room. It was like one of the fancy setups she’d seen in pictures in various magazines. She remembered watching a documentary about the elaborate underground shelters that cost as much as her house.

  This appeared to be one of those setups with every luxury included. There was even a picture of a mountain scene on one wall, painted to look as if you were staring out a window. It was meant to prevent the cooped-up claustrophobia that would happen knowing you were trapped several feet underground. She took in all the amenities, becoming more furious by the second. Her daughter had been trapped underground for nearly two weeks, with nothing, but dirt around her. She could only imagine the terror Caitlin was going through.

  Her eyes moved over the furniture in the small space. There was a white couch along one wall that from her angle on the floor, she could tell it pulled out to make a bed. There was a small kitchen, complete with a microwave. She stared in awe at the luxurious digs Neil had been holing up in. A large screen television was on one side of the wall with a Blu-Ray player on a shelf beside it. A wall shelf revealed a selection of titles for him to pass the time. She wasn't surprised to see a variety of horror films.

  Her inspection of the shelter was cut short when he noticed her. She scrambled to get to her feet. He was faster. She’d barely managed to stand when he punched her in the jaw. It felt like a screwdriver had been jabbed into her skull.

  Her instant reaction was to raise a leg and kick. She connected with his injured thigh, causing him to scream out. His pain was short-lived and before she realized he’d overcome it, he was on her. He grabbed her by both arms and physically lifted her and propelled her into a metal storage cabinet against the wall near the door. The corner slammed into her spine, making her legs tingle. She slid down the cabinet and fell to the ground.

  Neil lunged forward and pulled the cabinet down on top of her, slamming her body into the ground. Thankfully, her head had been spared a direct impact, but once again, she was struggling to draw in air. Megan felt the darkness pulling her under again. Every inch of her body was throbbing. She struggled to move, knowing she had to escape or all would be lost. The door was closed. Nobody could save her in here.

  “Other people always wreck everything!” Neil screeched above her. “I hate you!” he screamed, revealing how unstable he truly was.

  She didn't have to worry about trying to get the cabinet off herself. He shoved it away, freeing her from the heavy weight pushing her into the floor. She got to her hands and knees and looked up to see him standing in front of a wall full of guns and various weapons ranging from machetes to swords. It was a scene straight from the most frightening horror movie.

  “Crap,” she muttered. She was beyond terrified. The entire thing felt as if she was watching from a seat in a theater. The dissociation from what was really happening kept her from fainting or slamming into the closed door in a mind-blowing panic.

  He turned to look at her, smirking. “I wish I could shoot you. It would make my life easier, but I like my hearing. If I fire any of these guns in here, my ears will ring. Could ricochet and end up taking me out as well,” he mused, turning back to the wall. “I guess I'll have to get creative.”

  He grabbed a vicious looking machete and stalked towards her. Her eyes widened as she imagined his plans for the weapon. She would much rather a bullet than slicing and dicing. She frantically looked around for a weapon. Anything to defend herself. There was no way she could make it to the wall of horror without being hit by the ridiculous blade.

  She did a wide sweep of the ground, looking for anything that would give her a chance. Her hands kept touching fabric. She blinked several times and realized it was the same body suits the soldiers had been wearing. That gave her an idea. She reached down and grabbed one of the suits and found what she was looking for in the collar. Neil stood over her, the machete in his hand. He raised his arm, preparing to swing the sharp blade directly at her head.

  “No!” she screamed, shoving the tiny needle sewn into the band that the soldiers wore around their neck, directly into his thigh. She had no idea if the poison would release or if it was only lethal if he pushed the button, but she hoped it would work. Using the palm of her hand, she pushed the point deep into his leg. He screamed and then abruptly stopped. She looked up and realized the poison had hit home. He made a small squeaking sound before the machete clamored to the floor with his body right behind it.

  Megan got to her feet, staring at the scene. Was he dead? She kicked at his arm. Nothing. She slowly backed away, stopping when her back touched the heavy door. She kept her eyes on the dead man lying in front of her, looking for any signs that indicated he was playing possum. Could it really be over? Her mind refused to believe it.

  For several long minutes, she stared, taking in deep breaths. Blood trickling down the side of her face snapped her back to reality. Brenda was out there. The others may be as well. She had to see Wyatt.

  The need to get out of the room took over. All the fear she felt was bubbling to the surface, leaving her panicked and shaky. She frantically looked for a button or some kind of door mechanism, found it and repeatedly slammed her palm against it. The door whirred and slid open. She stood there, gulping in fresh air. Neil was dead. She had to keep reminding herself that. He was gone. They could take the lodge back. She was alive. Was it worth living if everyone you loved was dead? She banished the thought as quickly as it presented itself.

  Her face felt wet. Her fingers went to her cheek and she realized she was crying. Her tears mingled with the blood and sweat from her battle with Neil. With one last look back, she ran out of the saferoom towards the root cellar.

  26

  Megan scanned the area as she ran towards the cellar. She wasn't sure if all Neil's men wore those neckbands. There could still be men milling about, ready to avenge their leader. Her mind refused to believe it was all over and done. It hadn't been easy, but she never imagined she would be successful taking Neil and his army down on her own. Wait. She hadn't been alone. Where was Brenda?

  The woman had essentially disappeared after she shot Neil. Megan started to wonder if she’d imagined it. Then she remembered the bullet wound; someone had shot him. She'd worry about that later. Her focus was on opening that root cellar, praying her baby was safely tucked away in the dark hole.

  The door was well covered. Even she almost walked past it, which gave her hope. She used a hand to brush the leaves and debris away from the door she knew to be hidden below. She found the small rope and tugged it open, leaves and dirt sliding to the side. She was almost afraid to know. For so long she’d been clinging to the idea Caitlin was in the root cellar. Now that she was staring into the dark pit, she had to acknowledge it was unlikely her daughter had survived for so long without discovery.

  “Caitlin!” she called out. “Caitlin, it's mom, are you in here?”

  There was silence, for several long seconds. Megan felt the strength leaving her body with every passing second.

  “Mom?”

  Megan froze. It was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. Her daughter's voice. Her daughter was alive. Her brain clasped onto the sound and seemed to send out energy to her limbs that had felt too weak to move moments before.

  “Megan, are you alone?” Rosie's voice came out of the dark hole.

  “Yes, it's me. It's safe,” she called down.

  Out of the darkness, her daughter's pale face emerged with Rosie right beside her. She openly cried as she helped Caitlin out of the cellar. Rosie was next. Both were extremely pale and had lost weight. Caitlin looked so fragile Megan was afraid to squeeze her too tight.

  Rosie was standing in the center of the yard, turning and staring at what had been done to her home. Megan couldn't let go of her daughter. She held her as if her very life depended on it, vowing never to be separated from her again.

  “Oh my,” Rosie breathed. �
��I don't understand.”

  Caitlin was sobbing. Megan held her tight against her, whispering words of comfort and offering endless promises she would always be there.

  “Where is everyone?” Rosie asked, clearly in shock. The woman looked as if she’d aged twenty years during her confinement.

  Megan couldn't meet her eyes, but moved towards her, ready to envelope her in one arm, with the other securely around Caitlin.

  “No,” she whispered. “It can't be.” She was slowly shaking her head, staring at Megan with a look of profound sadness.

  Megan didn't answer her. She couldn't. They had much to catch up on, but it could wait. Right now, she needed to hold her baby.

  “What day is it?” Rosie asked.

  Megan hugged her tight before stepping away. “I don't actually know.”

  “How long have we been down there?” Caitlin asked.

  The question made her flinch. Her poor little girl had been trapped underground for two weeks. With no way to tell night from day, Megan imagined it’d probably felt like an eternity.

  “Too long, but we're here now,” she assured her.

  “I can’t believe any of this,” Rosie was saying, her arms stretched wide. “We heard plenty of noise and felt the ground vibrating, but this, I could never have imagined all of this.”

  “You should have seen it before the fire,” Megan sighed.

  “Fire?” Rosie's voice went high. “You were here? There was a fire?” Her eyes went to the lodge, finding the area that had burned. A hand went to her mouth. “Oh my. This is awful,” she muttered.

  Megan nodded. “There's so much to catch up on.”

  Rosie was staring at her, making her feel uncomfortable. Megan squirmed under her scrutiny, feeling the guilt heavy on her shoulders, assuming Rosie could see it as well.

  “Hon, we need to have you sit. You're bleeding,” Rosie said, walking towards her.

  Megan reached a hand up to the spot on her head that was throbbing. When she pulled her fingers away, she could see the blood on her hand. She imagined there was a good size cut on her head from the butt of the gun. She thought she’d wiped away the blood, but imagined she only smeared it. It was no wonder Caitlin looked so terrified.