Anxiety: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (The Agora Virus Book 2)

by Jack Hunt

  “What the…”

  “Good, eh?” Abner grinned while pouring himself another drink. The entire pool table and floor around it went down about fifteen feet before stopping with a jolt. White fluorescent lights flashed on all around them. They were standing in a rectangular room. With all the walls covered in firearms of every type, it could have easily given the gun shop in town a run for its money. It had every kind of rifle, shotgun, handgun, and cowboy action weapon from the oldest to the newest.

  “Isn’t she a beauty?”

  Frank looked on in bewilderment.

  “I told you he had guns.” Jameson’s lip curled up.

  Nine

  Frank ran his fingers across the Uberti 1873 Sporting Rifle, then made his way down to the AK47s. It was a treasure trove of goodies.

  “Where the hell did you get all these from?”

  Abner gazed upon them like fine pieces of art. “You collect things, Frank?”

  He thought about all the bottles of sanitizer he had stored at home. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “It started out as a hobby, I would trade one gun in for another. Then I wanted to try out a variety and I guess I never kicked the habit. Some people collect guitars, some collect memorabilia, I collect guns.”

  “Are they all legal?” Frank asked him without even looking at him. He was mesmerized by all the options available to him.

  Abner looked at Jameson, then back at Frank. “Does it matter now?”

  Frank chuckled as he cast a glance at him. Abner looked like the midget version of Hugh Hefner, yet he gave off a degree of confidence that only came from having been in the military.

  “Okay, let’s get down to business. So how much do you want?” Frank asked.

  “Two grand for any rifle, fifteen hundred for handguns.”

  Frank nearly choked. “Are you kidding me? That’s daylight robbery.”

  “Supply and demand. Take it or leave it.”

  He had brought six grand with him. Twenty-five hundred he had already given to Abner. He had high hopes of getting a weapon for everyone on the island. If they were going to fend off attacks from the Guthries or anyone else that showed up, they were going to need some serious firepower, and ammo. A lot of ammo.

  “And what about ammo?”

  “Double what you would have paid down the gun shop.”

  “Come on, man, cut us a break.”

  “Look, if you are here to yank my chain, this concludes our business. You’re lucky I’m even showing you this. If it wasn’t for Jameson here, you would probably be hooked up to a chair like the fella upstairs.”

  Frank had his hand on an ARES-15 MCR Carbine. It was one hell of a gun. Just the kind of shit he needed to have at the house. He lifted his eyes to Abner. He couldn’t resist asking.

  “Who is he?”

  “No clue but he jumped the fence and managed to break in through one of the back windows. I would have spotted him but I had a rough night.”

  “Still brewing that moonshine of yours, Abner?” Jameson started chuckling.

  “I have a whole new batch. Stuff will knock you on your ass. I’d usually charge a hundred a bottle but I’m willing to do it for fifty.”

  “You are just full of deals, aren’t you?” Frank said sarcastically.

  “Not sure I like your tone.”

  “Well, you certainly know how to screw people over,” Frank muttered.

  “You want to say that again?”

  It was almost comical coming from a man of his stature, Frank thought.

  Jameson stepped in seeing that Abner was getting a little agitated. “He didn’t mean anything by it, did you, Frank?”

  Frank glared at him then looked away. “No, no I didn’t.”

  “Yeah, cause you can go look elsewhere if you have a problem paying up.”

  “I have to arm around eight people and I have three and a half grand left for both weapons and ammo. What can you do for me?”

  “I can show you the door.” He spat a wad of tobacco from his mouth on the grated floor before chuckling. “Let me see. What do you like? Rifles, shotguns?”

  “A long-distance rifle, a few semi-automatics, eight handguns and enough ammo to last us for two months.”

  Abner shifted back from one foot to the next and looked at him. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I can sell you a weapon or two. This isn’t a charity.”

  “Abner,” Jameson said, trying to intervene.

  “Don’t Abner me. You still owe me twenty-five hundred.”

  “What? He just paid you.”

  “That was an admission fee,” Abner shot back.

  Jameson stepped forward and brought his finger up. “Are you kidding me, old man?”

  Lightning fast, Abner grabbed his hand and twisted it around with all the speed of a gazelle. He locked his arm in place and Frank edged forward but was met by a tutting sound from his lips.

  “I wouldn’t advise it. I’ll break his arm clean off and shove it up your ass. Now back up. Right now.”

  Jameson groaned, and winced as he started apologizing. Frank was beginning to see how the guy in the kitchen had got overpowered. Abner might not have looked like he packed much behind that flowing robe and thin shirt but he was no joke.

  “Look, old man, just take it easy.”

  “I was killing gooks while your mothers were still wiping your asses. Now show me some damn respect.”

  Jameson got up and began rubbing his elbow. Frank placed on the table all the cash he had and pointed to different rifles and shotguns. “Just give me what you can for the money. The best you have, and maybe I’ll come back tomorrow and buy some more.”

  A grin spread on Abner’s face. He obviously relished pushing people around and making it clear that he wasn’t a guy to be fucked with. They watched him load a black duffle bag with ammo, and stack up a couple of rifles and a handgun on the table along with several boxes of ammo.

  “There, don’t think I don’t give out deals. That’s more than anyone else would get.”

  As he zipped it up, an alarm went off and all the white lighting around them turned to red. It started flashing fast and Abner’s eyes widened

  “Motherfucker!” he hollered rushing over to the wall and smashing a red button. His robe swished in the air behind him like Superman’s cape. The floor began rising.

  “What the hell is going on?” Jameson asked.

  “We’ve got a breach.”

  As the floor rose, he grabbed up the POF Renegade Generation 4 AR-15 off the table in front of him. He slapped in a magazine and got his jarhead face on.

  “Those damn rats. I warned them. This time they are going to be spitting lead.”

  As soon as they were up, he was out of the room faster than they could take a few steps. For a guy with little legs he certainly could shift ass. They followed after him, taking a shotgun, and the P226 Sig Sauer he’d left on the table.

  From down the corridor, they saw Abner shout at the bound man who had his head down. He drove the butt of his gun into the side of his temple and filled the air with cursing. As Frank passed by, he stopped and looked closely. He was out cold. Frank pulled up his head and stared for a second, then he realized who it was. It was Clarence, a cousin of Butch Guthrie. He’d seen him numerous times in Guthrie’s store, helping out back. Holy shit! He dropped his head and raced after Jameson. By the time he reached the front of the house, Abner was unloading round after round outside. The noise was deafening until he stopped.

  “Yeah, I warned you,” Abner shouted.

  “All we want is our cousin back.”

  “Well come and get him.”

  He chuckled and continued firing at them. He had this look of glee on his face as if he was reliving his years in the military. Frank envisioned him chasing after the Viet Cong through the jungles like an unleashed dog.

  “Abner,” Frank shouted but he couldn’t hear him over the sound of rounds erupting. He wasn’t just firing at them; they themselves were coming under
fire from outside. He went over to a window and gazed out through makeshift blinds made of metal. When Abner was reloading, Frank caught a brief glimpse of Joey. Was Butch out there?

  “How many are there?” Frank asked.

  “Two, I think,” Jameson said. He had obviously spent far too much time around Abner as he was doing the same thing as him and unloading rounds.

  Frank rushed over to Abner and grabbed him by the arm. “Abner, we should just let him go.”

  “Let him go? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

  “He’s a Guthrie.”

  “And?”

  Abner paid no attention; he pushed the muzzle of his gun back through a slat and peered through the scope. Frank went up to Jameson. “You need to get him to listen. These are not people to fuck with.”

  “Oh, but it’s okay for you to?” Jameson replied.

  Frank’s brow knit together. “I had a plan. This isn’t a plan. This is madness.”

  “This is survival,” Abner shouted. “Now grow a pair and fire that weapon.”

  Frank rubbed his chin for a second. This wasn’t the way to deal with the situation. They might have been on the brink of seeing the country collapse but killing people? This fool was trigger-happy. He probably condoned it in his mind with some bull crap about how you would die first if you didn’t shoot first. That was bullshit concocted from an ill mind of someone looking for a reason to kill.

  “Abner! They just want their cousin.”

  “And I just want me some peace, but am I getting it? Hell no!” Abner continued his onslaught. There was no way he was going to be able to reason with him. Frank made his way back through the corridor down to the kitchen. He snatched a cooking knife off the counter and slashed away at Clarence’s binds. He stared at him for a second from behind his mask and goggles and then threw caution to the wind. He hauled him up and swung an arm over his shoulder and was about to drag him out the back of the house when Abner came into the kitchen.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “This is not right. There are ways to go about this. Hand him over and they’ll go away.”

  “Go away? Do you really think they are going to go away after what he’s seen? Do you even know why I had him hooked up?”

  “No but I’m sure you’re going to give a good reason.”

  “I was interrogating him. Trying to find out why he was here.”

  “Perhaps he was looking for food.”

  “Really? Are you that naïve?” Abner shot back. He looked on edge. One minute he was looking at Frank, the next he was looking back down the corridor and shouting to Jameson to keep firing at them.

  “I’m taking him out of here. You want to shoot me, go ahead.”

  The gun went off as Frank dragged Clarence towards the back door. It tore a hole in the wall. “The next one won’t miss. Now put him down.”

  Frank hesitated for a moment and then he lowered him to the floor.

  “Listen to me, Abner. I get it. I do. But holding him here isn’t going to make them go away. They know he’s in here. Hell, they probably know we’re in here. Now, until you bring him out and hand him over, they are going to keep trying to get in. Do you want that?”

  Abner took a step back and regarded Frank with a confused look. “Have you even experienced war?”

  Frank nodded. “I was a marine.”

  “Then you know that you don’t just hand over the enemy.”

  “He’s not the enemy.”

  Right then Jameson appeared in the doorway. “Your place was not the first to be hit by the Guthrie boys, Frank. They are going to keep doing it.”

  “Maybe so, but torturing a man in your kitchen is not the way to stop it.”

  “Really? What is?”

  Frank didn’t answer that.

  Abner went over to a window and looked out and chuckled to himself. “Marine? You weren’t a fucking marine. Any marine worth their salt knows there is a cost to war. We are not over there trying to win the hearts and minds of people. That’s what politicians are for. The assholes in suits who would rather debate than pick up a gun.”

  “Fuck you, Abner.”

  Abner started back at him with a look of death. Abner pulled out his .45 Magnum from a holster around his waist and walked over to Frank. Frank didn’t flinch as he brought it up to his face.

  “You prepared to die, marine? Because I am, and so are they…”

  Before Frank could do anything, Abner lowered the gun in one smooth motion and fired a round into Clarence’s head. It blew the back of his head off and brain matter went all over the floor.

  Startled, Frank stepped back.

  “What the fuck. What the fuck!” Frank yelled.

  “He wasn’t going to tell me anything anyway.”

  With that said he turned to head out, leaving them there to look down at the bloody mess. Frank hadn’t seen a dead body since his time in Iraq. It was a shock back then, and had been one of the many things that triggered his anxiety, and made him want to scrub himself clean.

  Standing there, still holding the P226, he looked down and saw blood splatter all over his legs. Anxiety crept up fast into his chest and began to choke him. He had blood on him. He looked over to Jameson who was also standing there with nothing on except his boxers. What the hell were they thinking entering this madman’s house?

  “Frank. Frank!” Jameson tried to snap him out of the trance-like state he was in. His hand trembled. Whatever PTSD he’d suffered from war came back with a fury. Whatever repulsion he had to germs was now at the forefront of his mind. All he could see was blood all over the place and germs seeping into the cells of his body. He moved quickly over to the sink and turned the faucet on. He washed the blood from his legs, leaving a puddle of water on the tiled floor, and reached for a dirty tea towel to dry off. His skin was crawling and he found himself hyperventilating.

  “We need to get out of here,” Frank muttered.

  The sound of gunfire continued as Abner unleashed a flurry of rounds and hollered at the Guthries like an insane patient who was off his meds. They heard the door unlock and Abner stepping outside.

  “Come on, you fuckers! You want some. Come and get it.”

  The snap of bullets ricocheting off metal rattled Frank’s nerves.

  Abner was completely out of his mind. Not thinking about the danger involved or if he would get caught in the act, Frank moved down the corridor fast and entered the room they had been in. He went back over to the pool table and felt around for the button on the right, beneath the table, that Abner had pressed. The system kicked in and began lowering. Jameson entered and asked him what he was doing. He didn’t reply.

  As soon as it reached the next floor he started filling the long black duffel bag with more guns. He added several AR-15’s, a sniper rifle, and as many handguns as he could jam into the bag along with boxes of ammo. By the time he zipped that up, he had to use both hands to haul it up onto the table. He slapped the red button and exhaled hard as the contraption began to rise up again.

  Once it was back up, Jameson was still there standing at the doorway looking fearful.

  “Give me a hand, we are getting the fuck out of here.”

  Jameson rushed in and grabbed a handle while Frank had the other and they hauled it out of the room and towards the back door. They hadn’t even reached it before they heard Abner’s voice.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Ten

  Abner had stepped over a line. As much as Frank needed the guns and had a plan in mind of how to retrieve what Butch had taken, he hadn’t though about those in town who would shoot first and ask questions later. Perhaps, in the time that he had lived with Kate, her softhearted nature had worn away at his stony exterior? Or maybe he wasn’t ready to accept that the country had reached the point of killing each other to survive.

  “Now hold on, Abner,” Jameson said setting the bag down and raising a hand. “We just want to get out of here and get back to th
e island.”

  “What have you got in the bag?”

  “Just a few more rifles. I’ll be back to pay you for the rest.”

  His nostrils flared. “The hell you will.”

  There was at least thirty yards between them, the sound of gunfire was still occurring outside but Abner was no longer concerned about them, he just wanted to make damn sure that Frank didn’t walk off with his merchandise.

  “Abner, you have more than enough down there. I’ve left the three and a half thousand, I’ll be back for the rest.”

  “Well when you do, then you can take the guns. Until then they stay here.”

  As he began walking towards them, he stepped into a ray of light seeping in from outside. Whether it was coming from one of the many windows, or bullet holes in the walls, they couldn’t tell. He hadn’t made it but a few feet when more gunfire erupted and Abner reached up to the side of his neck. He began wobbling ever so slightly as he brought his hand out and looked at the blood. It had hit an artery as blood was firing out the side of his throat. Within seconds he crumpled to the floor and his gun went off as he landed.

  “Let’s go,” Frank said hauling the bag up.

  Jameson stood there staring at his body.

  “Jameson, come on.”

  He yanked at his arm and he snapped out of it. They rushed out of the back of the home and came around the side. Dropping the bag on the ground, they both took out an AR-15 and slammed a magazine in each. Crouched down at the corner of the house, Frank peered around the side towards the main gate. It was still closed. Joey and three other men had climbed over and were positioned in various places around the lot. Some of them had ducked down at the corners of cars and were continuing to take potshots at the house.

  “Do you know another way out of here?”

  “Well, yeah, we can head over the fence and make our way along the shoreline but we’re liable to break our neck on the rocks, long before we make it around.”

  Their clothes, and the truck they’d arrived in were still outside the gate. The odds of being able to fend them off or drive away were slim to none, unless they were prepared to kill or be killed. Right now his mind was still reeling from watching an innocent man get a bullet in the head.