The rows of shelving units intersected every twenty feet or so, creating T-shaped junctions that were too wide open for Dave’s taste. They paused at each of these convergences, glancing left and right before proceeding through.
Dave didn’t know where they were headed exactly; he had no idea where Gideon spent his time, nor did he even know if the gang leader would be home when they got there. With any luck, Gideon would be there waiting on them.
They passed through two more intersections until they heard voices echoing off the walls, making it difficult to determine precisely from where the sounds originated. Dave pinwheeled, casting furtive glances down the lattice-work of aisles surrounding them, but saw nothing.
Audrey tapped him on the arm with the back of her hand, pointing with the pistol clutched within it.
Dave turned to see movement a few dozen yards ahead. He nodded as they slipped into one of the aisles and waited as the voices grew increasingly louder.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Whatever endorphins had been muting the pain receptors in Jessie’s body now seemed to have fled the scene, leaving behind white-hot agony. Blood poured from his ruined gut. The bullet hole Mohawk had placed in Jessie’s shoulder produced even more of the stuff. That arm was useless now. His other arm still worked, but it had been chewed to pieces and moving it felt like it was being stabbed with the business end of a broken beer bottle.
But he pushed on, carrying Mohawk’s penlight in the hand attached to his semi-good arm, lighting the way. The pistol rode in his back pocket, but he might as well have left it on the floor back at the stairwell for all the good one functioning arm did him. If he ran into anything in the darkened basement that wanted to do him harm, he was fucked.
And if he didn’t hurry things up, he was just as fucked.
For its size, the small penlight scooped out an impressive amount of darkness with its halogen light, carving a path through the suffocating blackness like an Amazon explorer and his trusty machete. He was headed to the far side of the large basement, to a dark corner of the room nobody upstairs had ever cared about.
That would be their downfall.
Trapped on basement duty for weeks on end, Jessie had had plenty of time to explore the nooks and crannies of his new domain. By all appearances, it seemed that whoever had owned this warehouse had used the basement as a place to store overflow items or backlot stuff that didn’t move as often.
But it had also been used to store something else. Something very, very important now.
Jessie followed the light, dripping small puddles of blood along the way as he struggled to stay upright. Dizziness overwhelmed him as his head spun and he slammed hard into a concrete wall. Hot agony roared in his shoulder, and he nearly dropped the light as white spots filled his vision. The floor seemed to tilt on an invisible axis. Jessie closed his eyes and focused on his breathing as he struggled to retain consciousness.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
He opened his eyes again and vomited bloody bile. The horrific pain in his belly nearly sent him to his knees as his abdominal muscles hitched, upchucking what little that was left in his stomach onto the filthy concrete floor.
When he was done, he waited a moment, eyes closed as he continued to breathe in and out. He opened his eyes and shined a light on the mess projected out of his gut.
It was pretty much all blood.
He didn’t have much time left.
He got moving again. Each movement felt like raking barbed wire against an infected amputation. Every step was an exercise in agony, a success only to be followed by the dread of having to do it all over again. As he slowly made his way across the darkened basement, he expected Gideon’s pets to return at any moment, their bellies full of meat as they searched for the human equivalent of an after-dinner mint.
But one step became two, and two more steps became four until Jessie had racked them up by the dozens. He kept it up, step by step until he finally arrived at his destination.
He shined a light into the corner. Before him sat two massive propane tanks of the thousand-pound variety, the biggest he’d ever seen.
The fuel inside these tanks was not only enough to level Gideon’s warehouse, but enough to leave a crater in the Earth where it stood.
Jessie reached into his pocket and removed the grenade he’d taken from the weapons room on the third floor. It was army-issued, picked from a dead soldier’s body by Gideon’s band of misfits. Before the virus, stumbling upon such a find would have been impossible. But before the virus, the chances of finding the corpses of an entire army platoon on Main Street were non-existent. Dead men told no tales, nor did they covet their grenades.
Jessie placed the flashlight in his mouth, the movement agitating the ripped and torn flesh of the carrier’s bite, bringing with it a torrent of fresh blood. A lot of blood, buckets of the stuff, ran down his arm, saturating the shirt and dripping into a growing puddle by his feet. It was gushing now.
Something had given way inside of him, he could feel it. Maybe some artery inside his chewed-up body had finally burst like a pipe on a cold night in the middle of winter, leaking its contents all over everything.
Blackness swept over him, and he collapsed to the floor in a bleeding heap. Stars appeared in his vision. This time they didn’t go away. He was so cold now. His hands had gone numb.
The flashlight beam dimmed. For a moment, Jessie thought the batteries were dying, but then he realized his eyesight was fading. His body was shutting down for good; only his mind hadn’t yet realized it was time to give up the fight.
Using his only functioning arm, Jessie moved the grenade closer to his face. It seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and it took all the strength he had left just to drag it two feet.
He placed the ring attached to the grenade’s pin between his teeth. He bit down on the ring and yanked the pin free.
Then utter blackness smothered him like a tidal wave, snuffing him out in an instant. His lungs released their last breath of air as his heart beat a final time.
Jessie went still, his hand still clutching the grenade’s lever in the safety position, his final Earthly task incomplete.
Chapter Forty
“Khan, you come with me,” Gideon said as he walked with purpose through the rows of shelves. He shoved a round into the chamber of his Desert Eagle pistol. It made a substantial and reassuring sound.
“You got it, Boss,” Khan said, drawing his revolver. Briggs, another man who’d been guarding the door alongside Sanders, accompanied them.
Gideon turned to Hunter. “Round up some men, wherever you can get them. Meet us down on one. We’re gonna take care of this shit once and for all.”
“Will do,” Hunter replied. The scar above his right eye twitched as his eyes gleamed.
That sick feeling in Gideon’s gut had only gotten worse now. Hopkins should have already handled this shit, so the fact that one of his most capable men hadn’t yet done so did not bode well. A couple of escaped prisoners should have been something his men could handle, even the least capable of them.
Hunter pulled up beside him, pistol in hand. “Hey boss, I say we—”
Blood and brains and bits of skull exploded from Hunter’s head, splattering Gideon and the others. Hunter dropped to the floor like a sack of wet cement.
Instinctively, Gideon ducked as a second shot rang out. Sanders’ hands went to his throat as he dropped his rifle to the floor. Bright red blood squirted from between his fingers as he fell to his knees, eyes wide, his face a mask of shock as he gagged and choked on his own blood.
Pistol in hand, Khan spun around in a circle, desperately searching for the source of the fatal gunfire.
“Where the fuck is that coming from?” he yelled.
Two more shots echoed from out of sight. Khan looked down as fresh blood stains blossomed on his shirt. He opened his mouth but made no sound before collapsing to his knees and falling hard o
n his face.
Briggs opened fire randomly, sending a horde of bullets into the surrounding area with no particular target. He emptied the magazine quickly, pulling the trigger on an empty chamber three times before realizing the magazine was spent.
Eyes wide, Briggs looked at Gideon just before his head exploded in a mist of bright red. Briggs dropped lifelessly to the floor, landing in a motionless heap as blood pooled around his ruined skull.
Then a voice called out, echoing in the large room. “Drop the pistol and put your hands where I can see them!”
Chapter Forty-One
Lying beside Audrey on the top of one of the shelving units, Dave watched the group of men approach. The lot of them looked like bad business, but the man in the lead was by far the most imposing of all. Standing tall and built like a linebacker, he carried himself as a leader. As if to confirm it, Dave heard one of the other men referred to him as boss.
That was all he needed to know he was looking at Gideon himself.
He glanced at Audrey.
She nodded.
Dave readied his rifle, pointing it at the group as they approached. He singled out the closest of them, a man with a scar above his eye. He took a breath and let it out halfway as a reassuring calmness washed over him.
He pulled the trigger.
Scarface went down in a bloody mess.
Audrey chimed in behind Dave, pistols blaring like a Wild West gunslinger. The men surrounding Gideon peeled away as bullets found their mark, collapsing to the floor in bleeding heaps. One of them opened fire in desperation, emptying his rifle’s magazine in a weak attempt to stop the barrage of bullets Audrey and Dave were sending his way.
Audrey put a bullet in his head for his effort.
The shooting stopped; the echoes quickly subsiding.
They left only Gideon standing.
“Drop the pistol and put your hands where I can see them!” Audrey called out.
Following the sound of their voices, Gideon glared at them. He hesitated for a moment before placing the pistol on the ground and shoving his hands skyward.
“There’s still time for you to rethink this,” Gideon said, his voice a low baritone.
Audrey hopped down off the top shelf while Dave kept a bead drawn on Gideon. Once Audrey had dismounted, Dave followed behind her, his feet landing solidly on the hard concrete.
As Dave stood before the gang leader for the first time, he noticed just what a house of a man Gideon was. He was even more imposing up close; standing nearly seven feet tall, barrel-chested with cheap blue-inked tattoos covering his arms and his throat. He looked like a walking mug shot, a man who’d never been equipped to live in the civilized world. No wonder he thrived in the lawlessness of the post-virus world.
Now Audrey, all five feet four inches of her, stood opposite this beast of a man, her two pistols pointed at his head.
“The children,” Audrey said, slowly and methodically. “Tell me what you did with them.”
Gideon remained silent, staring at Audrey with wolf’s eyes. The right side of his mouth turned up in a sadistic grin. His eyes remained hard, black stones.
“Tell me, or else I’ll blow your brains out right here, right now.”
Gideon cocked his head to the side. “What kids?”
“Don’t play with me,” Audrey said. “I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
Gideon stared at her for a moment longer, the wheels turning in his head. “No.”
Audrey’s face went stolid. “Don’t think I won’t do it. Look around you for the proof.”
“I don’t doubt that you’ll shoot me,” Gideon replied. “But I’d rather die than do a cunt’s bidding.”
Audrey’s lips formed a thin line as she adjusted her grip on the pistol.
“Just shoot him,” Dave said. “Get it over with.”
Audrey kept her eyes locked on Gideon’s. “I want to hear him say it. I want to hear him admit what he did before he dies.”
“Let me do it,” Dave said.
Audrey shook her head. “No. He’s mine.”
“Do it or don’t, bitch,” Gideon said. “Either way, stop wasting my fucking time.”
Audrey raised the pistols.
“Well, well, well,” a voice said from behind them. “Just look at what we have here.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Dave knew that voice all too well.
Calvin.
He spun in a half-circle quickly, pointing the rifle, but Calvin already had Dave in his sights.
Along with a second pistol pointed at Audrey.
“Don’t do it, Porter,” Calvin said. “I’d hate to have to put down another one of your girlfriends.”
Audrey pointed her other pistol at Calvin, glancing back and forth between the two men.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a Mexican Standoff,” Calvin said. “This is some real Tarantino shit right here. Straight out of a movie.” He smiled at Gideon. “Seems like you’re the only one without a gun, big boy.”
Gideon glared at him. “Fuck you.”
Calvin grinned. “You got a way with words.” He turned to Dave. “Look, Porter, I know you have a bone to pick, but I have unfinished business with the Jolly Green Giant over there.”
“He’s mine,” Audrey said.
Calvin chuckled. “You got yourself a feisty one this time, Porter. I like her.”
The seconds ticked by slowly as the four of them remained locked in their standoff. Dave glared at Calvin, his finger on the rifle’s trigger.
He had the son of a bitch dead to rights; one pull of the trigger and Calvin Summerville was a dead man.
But Calvin had the same power now. It occurred to Dave in a horrible yet almost humorous way that maybe they should merely count to three and pull their triggers all at once. That certainly would solve everything.
The seconds ticked away slowly as the standoff continued.
Dave swallowed hard, palms sweaty as his finger itched on the trigger.
The four of them watched each other carefully, muscles taut and ready.
With each passing second, the opportunity to de-escalate slipped further away.
Dave’s finger tightened on the trigger.
Then the sound of sharp talons tapping on the concrete floor echoed off the walls around them.
Chapter Forty-Three
Everything after that happened so incredibly fast.
One of the pale creatures appeared, sprinting toward Gideon, its teeth bared and claws extended. A split-second later and it was on him. Although Gideon was a head taller than the monster, it out-muscled the tattooed gang leader by a factor of ten. It took the bigger man down quickly, sinking its sharp fangs into Gideon’s neck. It shook its head from side to side like a crocodile, tearing away at the flesh. Blood erupted, splattering the creature’s face and chest, the dark red color contrasting sharply with its pale skin.
“No!” Audrey screamed.
She pointed both pistols at the blood-slicked creature and pulled the triggers. The dual report echoed throughout the large room as both bullets found their mark, exploding through the creature’s back.
Dave pulled the trigger on his rifle, sending a bullet into Calvin’s gut.
At that same moment, Calvin acted in kind, sending a bullet into Audrey’s neck, severing her spine before exploding violently out of her throat.
She collapsed to the dirty warehouse floor, landing prone beside Gideon’s lifeless body and the monster that had killed him.
Only a glance told Dave she was dead.
Movement caught Dave’s attention. He turned to see Calvin limping away, clutching his bleeding stomach.
Dave raised the rifle and got off a shot, but it was a second too late. Calvin disappeared into one of the endless aisles surrounding them.
The sound of claws tapping grew louder behind Dave, accompanied by snarls and growls. He turned as one of the creatures bounded after him.
He raised the rifle and pulled the tr
igger.
He missed.
Unabated, the white creature charged, its muscular arms and legs flexing as it opened its mouth wide, emitting a shrill cry that made the hair on the back of his neck stand tall.
Dave fired off two more shots.
One missed.
The other struck the creature in its head, arresting its forward movement and sending it to the floor in a heap.
More growling emanated from around Dave now. The natural reverb in the room made it difficult to pinpoint from exactly where it was coming.
He glanced again at Audrey’s motionless body, her eyes staring up at the ceiling.
Everything had gone sideways.
Shrieks and howls echoed from the recesses of the open warehouse. The creatures were amassing, zeroing in on their prey.
Let them come then, he thought.
Dave walked toward Gideon’s corpse. He picked up the Desert Eagle lying nearby. The weight of it felt solid in his hand.
With the growls and snarls growing louder around him, Dave ran after Calvin.
Chapter Forty-Four
Dave ran, his feet pounding on the concrete, the heavy pistol clutched in his hand. Behind him, the creatures gathered—growling, snarling, and howling amongst themselves in some primitive animalistic language.
He could feel his opportunity slipping away with each passing second. He needed to find Calvin, and he needed to find him fast, before someone—or something—got to him first.
He followed the blood trail on the floor; droplets of the stuff scattered sporadically like breadcrumbs. By the looks of it, he’d gotten Calvin pretty good. He grinned at that thought, despite it all.
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