“More than I care to remember.”
Hannah sucks in a blubbering wheeze. “So my dad gave you all this to protect me?”
“Yeah. I met him scouting the area and he paid me for information on the changes in the region when he had to stop sending out troop patrols. I’ve put together a compound of people. We’ve been able to keep the biters out.”
“How’s your place different from here?”
“I’ve running water and lights for one.”
“Real electricity?” Sanchez and Hannah both squeal in unison.
“Isn’t all electricity real?”
“Not solar-powered. Too many people try drawing off it and no one has any.”
“The colonel should’ve turned people away.”
“He couldn’t,” Hannah defends her father.
“I can, and I do. Everyone in my camp works, or they don’t eat.” He clears up any illusions they might have about their new home.
“Dad told me I might have to become a farm hand.”
“Unless you’re a crack shot. No matter what, we never seem to have enough guards.”
“I shoot, but I’m no Annie Oakley.”
“We’ll find you an appropriate fit.” He glances at his watch. Fifty some minutes until the fireworks.
“Kade!” Hale bursts into the tent.
“There better be a fire.” Kade holds the young girl informing him about the C4 on his lap as if he were Santa Claus.
“The motor pool’s been locked off, just like she said. I found C4 on two trucks.” Hale sucks in a deep breath. “It also looks like every soldier is at the helicopter pads, and the choppers are approaching. They don’t have no cargo containers.”
Kade dumps the girl to the floor, scoops up his revolver, and flips the cylinder into place. “Get the boys and the trucks ready.”
BLOOD FLOWS FROM the cuts in Danziger’s wrists. He rises up on his toes to put slack in the chain. The plasma coagulates as it covers the chain and bear trap. Danziger twists using his vital fluid to lubricate the makeshift shackle holding him in place. With enough work he slips his hand through without slicing open his radial artery. He could twist a bit more and maybe escape losing a meaty chunk of palm and his pinky finger.
Distracted by Kelly’s failed screams to bring him to climax, Levin draws a knife blade across her skin. Even a cut produces no screams. Levin paces around the table. He punches her in the kidney. She contorts and convulses from the blow. Tears flow, but she’s not able to cry out.
Levin’s frustration allows Danziger to reach up and grab the chain. He pulls himself up, relieving the pressure on his wrists. He grips the chain with the other hand and lifts himself completely off the ground. Fist over fist, he climbs up the chain. The bear trap loosens. The drying blood greases the chain, forcing Danziger to squeeze tighter. A slip now would send him crashing down and likely sever his whole hand, not just a finger.
Danziger takes his eyes off Levin, whose anxiety of not finishing his brutal act reaches near volcanic levels. Within twelve inches Danziger will reach the beam securing the chain. If he grabs the beam, he can lift one hand out of the trap and be free.
Levin works the mortician’s blood draining tube around in Kelly’s foot. Blood spills onto the table. Her mouth opens, but she’s physically unable to make noise. Too much for even her young body, the excruciating pain culminates in unconsciousness.
Danziger pushes the panic back down inside him. Five or six inches more to the beam. With the poor blonde girl comatose, Levin’s now free to pay attention to him. The tip of his index finger touches the top corner of the beam. He stretches to get the whole fist knuckle of the digit over the wood. A second finger touches the beam. Danziger hand grips the beam. He lifts his weight off the trap allowing him to slip free.
Levin spins around. He bolts to prevent Danziger’s escape. Danziger scissor kicks, sending Levin across a stack of hay bales. The serial killer rolls to his stomach, pushing himself to his feet, but is met with Danziger’s shoe. He scampers under the makeshift table before a second boot lands. Without his body to stop Danziger’s foot, his leg flies too high, scrapes the edge of the plywood table and sends Danziger stumbling off balance. Those seconds are all Levin needs to recover. He pops up on the opposite side of the table.
Danziger grabs his leg. The scraped skin under his pants stings more than the cuts in his wrist. Levin snags a knife. Danziger dives over the table in an attempt to prevent the puncture.
Levin doesn’t bother with threatening, he simply stabs the blonde teen in her side. The thin blade perforates the bottom of her lung, deflating it. The sucking wound burbles with blood bubbles. A low gasp rolls from her lips marking Danziger’s failure. He leaps from the plywood, tackling Levin. The much smaller man is quite stout; impacting him feels like being flung against a stone statue. They tumble across the floor. Levin has the reflexes to hold the blade. Danziger snags the killer’s wrist before the blade pierces his shoulder blade. They struggle for the weapon, rolling across the floor. Like in a badly choreographed fight movie, one man rolls on top of the other and then they reverse. All the time Danziger keeps the knife at an arm’s length.
The timeworn barn loft had been abandoned long before the apocalypse prevented any upkeep. The hay covered in the musk of rot leaves a film of dust in the air. The once sturdy floor built to withstand thousands of pounds of dried grass to feed livestock all winter now creeks with decay. The deterioration reaches a pinnacle when a board snaps. It flings upward, the board strikes Danziger’s head. The impact barely costs him a second of his faculties, but it allows Levin to wrench free of the detective’s grasp. He drives the knife hilt into the side of Danziger’s cranium. Dizzy, Danziger rolls away to avoid a second blow.
Levin scampers to his feet. The floor collapses beneath him and he crashes into the stall below in a tangle of boards and loose straw.
The moan-howl of DKs waft through the new floor opening. Danziger, still wonky from the brain blow, crawls to the edge. The splintered boards form a windmill pattern around Levin, trapping him as well as protecting him from the growing number of undead gathering at the barn. Gray rotten fingers snake through the lumber, failing to reach him.
Danziger orders himself to move. He has to get to Levin before the man recovers from the impact. Blood rains on the floor from Kelly’s wound. She’s bleeding out. Torn between the two choices, Danziger reasons he can do little medically for the girl. He knows from her breathing that her lung’s damaged. He has no skill or even the know-how to help someone with her kind of wound. But he does know how to stop this from ever happening to another girl again.
Part of him wants to leap into the hole ending Levin now, but if he’s faking unconsciousness he could land on the knife. It will take longer, but he crawls toward the ladder, rising to his feet in order to climb down. His shoes kick up the hard dry earth. His mind clears enough from the blow. Danziger feels balanced enough to run. He pushes through the rubble to find Levin. He snatches up the knife. He holds the blade for a long second. He should end it. Something stopes him from just stabbing this man. Revenge would be assured, but Danziger wants more. He wants Levin to suffer the pain he feels for his dead daughter. He cuts into Levin’s skin deep enough to send spasms of pain through him. Danziger cuts him again. Pleasure overwhelms him as he brings pain to the man who murdered his daughter. The knife speeds toward Levin’s throat. This next cut will offers Danziger closure for the death of his only child.
CORPORAL JAMESON GLANCES at his watch. “Eleven minutes until the choppers are due.”
“The food rations will be handed out in one minute,” Hannah adds.
Private Sanchez wrings her hands on the steering wheel as if waiting for the light to change to green so she can floor the accelerator.
“Won’t people notice the lack of helicopters and the handing out of food?” he asks.
“Once the food lines start, a nuclear bomb could go off but people won’t get out of line. The lack o
f soldiers to keep order could be an issue. If a shoving match starts, the soldiers normally put a stop to it, but not this time. I’ve worked the line a lot,” Hannah explains. “I’m just glad Dad decided not to blow up the food with the weapons.”
“The colonel has civilians handing out the food stuff he was to destroy,” Sanchez chimes in.
“Food will keep some of these people alive.”
“So would guns,” Hannah snaps.
“They would just kill each other for the food,” he remarks.
“Why can’t you take in more of these people?”
I can’t take in the second truckload you filled but we’ll make it work. He considers blasting her with such information but thinks better of it.
Sanchez twists the key. “Choppers coming in.”
“Drive us out slow,” he orders.
Kade flips on the windshield wipers to disperse the shattered chunks of the undead person spattered over the hood of his truck. He races down a makeshift dirt road outside the fence line of the military base.
Every bump sends Hale floundering around the cab. The men in the bed barely hang on to the roll bar.
“Kade, you got to slow down.” Hale slams against the door.
Kade mashes the gas petal, accelerating the truck ahead of the two vehicles chasing him.
“You said there was a convoy of trucks at the front gate.”
Even with a seatbelt secured, Hale flails like a rag doll.
“I’ll bet the farm the demolitions crew is in one of those trucks.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They would have the detonators for the C4 on them. We stop them, we save all the tanks.” Kade stomps on the pedal.
Before the transport helicopter lands, two soldiers leap from the landing ramp. They race through the platoon of men. Several soldiers point back at Colonel Travis.
“Sir, we’ve orders to load you first,” the soldier yells over the helicopter noise.
“No. I’ll see my men loaded first.” Travis leers at the two men.
“We’ve our orders, sir.”
“You’re wasting time and fuel. Get my troops on the helicopter. I’m leaving enough behind not to leave any of them.”
“Then we will stay with you till you’re securely on board, sir.”
The colonel flies the ‘move out’ hand sign and the first round of troops are sent to the chopper. Once full it takes off and a second lands.
Travis glances at his watch. The choppers are seven minutes early. The civilians won’t be anywhere near any of the military buildings set to explode when the demolitions officer follows his orders in six minutes.
The once civilian-friendly entrance with the open tollgate style barriers and friendly officers, who only checked identifications to allow people on the base, have been replaced with sniper towers, concertina wire, chain link fencing, and tank stopping dragon’s teeth obstacles in order to keep the undead out.
In the two seconds before impact, Kade prays the reinforced steel battering ram style front section of the truck meant to help move abandoned cars functions.
The chain link fence buckles and the truck slides through. The other two trucks of his henchmen ram the second gate, preventing anyone from escaping.
As the next chopper lifts off, Colonel Travis swears he hears the faint whisper of gunfire. Impossible with the noise from the whirling blades and the distance these landing pads are from the rest of the base. Still, once a soldier has faced enemy fire in combat he never forgets—bullets and the death following.
Travis fears for his daughter’s life.
“Brakes!” he orders Private Amie Sanchez. The Humvee skids to a halt. Trucks shatter the front gates. Civilian men engage in a firefight with the troops in the watch towers.
“That’s going to attract a shit-ton of biters,” Sanchez says.
“That’s Kade and his men.” Hannah panics. “He runs the black market and forces women to trade their bodies for extra food.”
“You want me to man the fifty cal.?” Jameson asks.
“No. We won’t risk you hitting whatever they are using to set off the explosions. Hopefully your demolitions officer’s still breathing in the tower.”
“How are you going to stop them if you don’t shoot them?” Sanchez asks.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to shoot them.” He checks each of his pistols. All fully loaded. “Stay here. That’s an order.”
“You can’t just walk down there,” Hannah protests.
Jameson starts at this man in black, “Who do you think you are, John Wayne?”
“More like Han Solo. I’m going to shoot first.” He clicks the door handle.
“If they kill you, where am I supposed to take her?” Corporal Jameson follows his first duty to his commander.
“You can’t just go out there like this is High Noon or something,” Hannah protests.
“Hard to believe a girl of your age even knows of Jimmy Stuart in High Noon.”
“It was Gary Cooper, and my dad made me watch all those Westerns with him.” She quickly adds, “I know who John Wayne was, too.”
“Well, my cultured friends, ‘I thoroughly disapprove of duels. If a man should challenge me, I would take him kindly and forgivingly by the hand and lead him to a quiet place and kill him.’”
Confident, Hannah barks at him, “That’s not from the movie.”
“Correct. It’s a quote, and your only clue to where you need to go.”
“Who are you?” Sanchez asks.
“What’s in a name?” He contemplates for seconds before giving her an answer, “Ethan, Ethan Edwards.”
“They’ll kill you,” Sanchez protests.
He taps his black vest. “Kevlar.” He quick-marches from the Humvee.
“Clue? Clue to what? I’m confused.” Hannah grabs the door handle.
Jameson climbs over the seat to prevent Hannah from exiting. “You got to stay here.”
“He seems a bit too old to be an Ethan.” Sanchez inquires, “Do you know what his clue means?”
“Not off hand. I figure it’s simple, whoever said the phrase or whatever movie it’s in is where we’ll need to go.”
“So if it’s from Juno then we have to go to Minnesota,” Hannah says.
“Something like that,” Jameson releases her. The thundering boom of a .357 jolts Corporal Jameson back into his seat.
Ethan holsters his magnum, seven shots still unspent. Kade and his fellow renegades cease fire on the tower and turn their weapons on him.
Maybe I should have just had the corporal use the fifty cal. on these assholes. He raises his arms in a non-threatening manner before stepping closer.
“You hold it right there!”
“Kade?” he calls out. He doesn’t need much confirmation. He will never forget the face of the man inside the farmhouse or what he did to Emily’s companion. It is the same face standing before him now. He knows the offender’s dead. He saw to that, but this one could be his twin, if not, certainly his brother.
“Who the fuck are you?” Kade waves to one of his men to keep guns on the tower.
“I hear you’re the kind of man to make a deal with.”
“I’m in a bit of a negotiation right now.” Kade’s curiosity peeks at the non-military man placed in charge of a military convoy.
“I think you want to hear my offer.”
Jameson tucks Hannah onto the backseat floorboards in order to give her maximum protection from any stray bullets. He crouches, his boots in her seat ready to pop out the top hatch. He may be ordered not to engage with the fifty cal., but no order was issued about his rifle.
“What kind of deal do you have to offer me?” Kade waves Hale and LJ to accompany him as he steps toward this man in black. “Do I know you?”
“We’ve never met, Kade, even if you do resemble the fuck face I beat to death for raping a couple of girls he took from this base.”
“You mother fucker. You took another group
out of this base, with some fat chick. My brother went after you. He never made it back.”
“Add that to the negotiation. I’ll tell you his current location.”
“None of you fuckers shoot. This bastard’s mine.” In a rage, Kade marches toward the man in black.
Ethan flips his shoulders back sending his duster from his huge frame. The .357 magnum shines through the holster holes even with the sun behind him.
Jameson watches Kade and his two henchmen stomp toward his new commanding officer. With the black coat crumpled on the ground, Jameson spots guns Kade doesn’t.
“Does Ethan think he’s some kind of one-man army?” Sanchez asks.
Hannah attempts to rise up to witness what’s about to happen. Sanchez shoves her back to the floor.
“No matter what, don’t shoot this guy. I need to know what happened to Kani,” Kade orders.
“How do you know this guy knows?” Hale asks.
“Where’s my brother?” Kade demands.
“You need to move one of your trucks and let my convoy leave the base, and I’ll tell you where he is.”
“You’re not rolling out of here until I know where he is.”
“Fine. I’ll stand right here, but the convoy moves outside the fence.” He uses the proclamation to rotate his body sideways to provide less of a target, keeping the shiny magnum facing them. An old revolutionary war duelist trick he remembers reading about.
“I don’t know who you’re used to dealing with.”
The longer their banter takes the more relaxed Kade’s men become on the trucks and turn their attention away from the soldiers trapped in the tower to this man in black resisting their boss.
“You’re going to tell me right now,” Kade demands.
“Like hell I will.”
Explosions tear through the base behind him. He should have jumped like a jackrabbit, but he knew it was going to happen. He was hoping he could stall long enough to surprise Kade’s men. Jumping jackrabbits wouldn’t begin to describe the men as several scatter behind the trucks for cover. Kade doesn’t move even while Hale and LJ step back. They shift their eyes to the growing clouds of black smoke covering the military base. Kade never takes his eyes off the silver magnum.
No Room In Hell (Book 1): The Good, The Bad and The Undead Page 28