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

by Jack Hunt

  They entered the room that contained the pool table. Butch gazed around and looked intrigued by the place.

  “Those lazy bastards didn’t take the booze. Adam, Randall, go grab up some of those bottles. We’ll take that with us. Tonight we celebrate.”

  He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, and then when he caught Frank staring, he went over and shoved him towards the table. “Get it working.”

  “Alright. Calm down.”

  Frank went to the far end. The last time he’d been this nervous was when he visited the doctor’s office. He hated the place. It was like a germ magnet.

  “So, you are going to need to stand in certain places around the table.”

  Butch scowled. “Why?”

  “Like I said. It works using pressure plates and sensors. So Butch, if you want to go to the other side, and have Dawson on the left and maybe Adam on the right, we’ll get this show on the road.”

  “Randall, get over here. You can take my spot.”

  “Is there a problem?” Frank asked.

  Butch didn’t answer him. He simply squinted and pushed Randall into his spot.

  “You need to get a little closer.” Frank went around and adjusted them so they were practically touching the table itself. He then returned to his spot. As he looked around at them he saw Butch place a hand against his side holster. He didn’t trust him. That was going to be a problem. Frank contemplated whether to do what he had in mind. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if it was going to work a second time but he had nothing to lose. The second they had those guns he’d be a dead man. That was for sure. And as for Ella, Sal, and the rest of them, they would also be dead. Butch wasn’t a man of his word. He was a man of vengeance.

  Frank breathed in deeply. As much as he didn’t want to do this, he knew he had to.

  Butch tossed his hands up in the air. “Come on, Frank, let’s get this going.”

  Frank acted as though he was trying to find the exact spot to stand on. He gazed over at Butch. His hand was twitching on that gun, just waiting to pull it. Frank slipped his hand beneath the pool table. His fingers ran over the smooth wood, searching for the two buttons.

  “Ready?” Frank asked. When he asked, all he wanted to see was which of them he could grab a gun from.

  His finger trembled as it touched the left button. He pushed it in and what happened next was beyond anything he had ever seen. Flames burst out the sides and the far end of the table turned a fiery blue and red, like an incinerator being switched on. Shock, disbelief, and agony spread on the faces of Randall, Adam, and Dawson as their bodies were engulfed in flames.

  They stumbled back, dropped their weapons and Randall fell to the floor rolling around in agony, trying to put himself out. Butch pulled his gun but in the chaos erupting around him, he couldn’t see Frank.

  He fired a round off, but Frank was already gone.

  Without a second to lose, Frank had shot towards Adam, snagged up his AK47, and ducked out of the room. Gasping for air as smoke poured out of the room he double-timed it down the corridor heading for the back door only to have multiple rounds fired at him. He spun and fired back, then realized Butch wasn’t there. He had just unloaded at the wall hoping to hit him in mid-sprint.

  Frank kicked the rear door open and bolted out as he heard Butch scream his name. The sound of his boots behind him made him rush for the nearest place of cover. He ducked down behind an old fishing boat and crept around to the far end so he could get a better view of Butch. He fully expected him to come bursting out and when he did he would unleash a flurry of rounds and end him.

  Seconds, then minutes passed and when he still hadn’t emerged, Frank moved into another position thinking he might have come out the front entrance. Still nothing. Smoke was beginning to pour out of the west end of the building and for a moment he thought that perhaps he’d got stuck. Possibly he’d succumbed to the smoke. But that idea was quenched when he shot out the front end, rushing for the truck. He was coughing up a storm and his face was black with smoke. As he ran he unloaded a wide spread of bullets to cover himself but it wasn’t going to be much use. Laid out on the ground, Frank squinted with one eye and fired twice. As if he’d tripped over a line, Butch collapsed on the ground. He hit the gravel hard and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  As Frank got up to head over to him, Randall came out of the door and started firing at him.

  “What the fuck?” Frank said as he hit the ground and rolled out of view. Randall’s skin was burnt down one side and most of his clothes were gone. How the hell he was managing to stand or shoot for that matter was beyond Frank. Frank hurried to the far end of the boat he was behind and climbed up and over. Randall was gasping for air and dragging his right leg as he headed towards the boat.

  Frank’s eyes darted to Butch who had crawled away from where he’d fallen. It didn’t take much to take out Randall. He fired multiple times and the burnt excuse for a man fell to the ground writhing in agony. One more shot and there was silence.

  “Frank, I got to admit, that was some smart thinking but a sloppy decision. Did you really think that I wasn’t expecting you to try something?”

  Frank could hear his voice but couldn’t tell where it was coming from. A hard wind blew in and with the sound of the river behind it, it was hard to pinpoint his location.

  “That black boy is as good as dead. Whatever happens now, you only have yourself to blame.”

  Gabriel, with the help of Landon and Tom had managed to gather together another four men from the island, willing to take control of the situation. They had been waiting in a heavy thicket of trees, looking for an opportunity to move in on the property. Men and women moved back and forth between the house and fire pit.

  “Dougie. Phone call. It’s Butch,” a blond female called out from the house.

  Dougie had been sitting by a large fire along with the other three drinking beers and roasting what looked like chicken or marshmallows on a stick.

  “So listen up, the only way this is going to work is we move in fast. The focus is to get Tyrell out safely, that’s it.”

  “That might be it for you. But not for me,” Landon said. “Those fuckers hit my wife when they came to our house and took what we had.”

  “Whatever. The rest of you fan out and keep your weapons on those around the camp, two of you break off and head for the house.”

  “And if they go for their weapons?”

  Gabriel didn’t hesitate to reply. “Do I even need to answer that?”

  Only four out of the six had weapons. Gabriel had given one to Landon, and Tom had one, and Pete Rolands had the other. The other two were carrying baseball bats.

  “I don’t know about this,” Tom said.

  “Look, we have the element of surprise. But if you are having second thoughts, now is the time to say because once we’re out in the clearing there is no going back.”

  “So when do you want to go?”

  Gabriel looked back towards the campfire. Palmer kept tossing some food at Tyrell and making jokes about how they were going to roast him over the fire like a pig, the first chance they got. Gabriel was about to answer that when Dougie came charging out of the house.

  “Looks like your time is up,” he said pulling his handgun from his side.

  “Now!” Gabriel said.

  Like a stealth army unit, they moved out from the shadows of the forest into the clearing.

  “Get down now,” Gabriel shouted with his gun towards Dougie. Anyone who had an ounce of brains would have dropped their weapon. Not that idiot. He spun around and Gabriel didn’t even hesitate, he squeezed the trigger and spat out several rounds taking him down. Palmer and Jackson went for their guns and retreated back while firing off rounds, and Palmer hit the ground as Landon opened fire on him. Jackson knew he was shit out of luck and tossed his weapon. Unfortunately, he took one in the arm before he could throw his arms up. He writhed around on the ground like a beached whale before Landon put him out of
his misery. The only one that hit the ground with his hands out was Bret.

  “Don’t shoot him,” Gabriel said trying to get the others to stay calm in a stressful situation. He motioned for the others to go check the house for the women. A couple had already come out and had dropped to their knees.

  Frank crept along from one boat to the next, trying to figure out where he was. He spotted the truck but he wasn’t in it or even under it.

  “Now listen up, if you want your daughter and the others to live then you better pay attention.” He knew he’d hit Butch badly as there was an edge of desperation to his voice that he hadn’t heard before.

  Frank ducked down and listened intently. Wind was kicking up dust and making it hard to see. He coughed into his face mask and adjusted his position.

  “You let me go, they live and I’ll call my men off. You shoot me, and they will kill your family. Do I make myself clear?”

  Frank scoffed. After all the talks this guy had given on being a survivalist. The way he portrayed himself as a bad ass who was not to be fucked with. Here he was negotiating for his life. It was all an act.

  A huge gust of wind blew in and a tarp went up in the air, and Frank heard him cough. Moving quickly across the yard, he ducked behind a boat and slowly crept around it until he stepped out and found Butch lying against the side of the boat gripping a bloody leg. He immediately reacted by lifting his gun but Frank just shook his head.

  “You’ll be dead before you squeeze.”

  Butch got this scared look on his face. He was showing a different side that he’d hidden from the others, the one that was scared to die. The one that realized this could have all been avoided if he hadn’t been an asshole and taken all the supplies.

  “Your call, Frank. But if they don’t hear from me, they are going to be cooked alive.”

  “You are one sick fuck.”

  “Sick fuck? I wasn’t the first one to pull the trigger. So I took some of your supplies, don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

  “But you didn’t need it. I saw what you had. You had more than enough.”

  Butch scoffed and looked down, bringing his rifle to the side.

  “You think I can have a cigarette before you do it?”

  Frank stared at him blankly with his finger twitching near the trigger.

  “Go ahead.”

  He chuckled a little and coughed as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Both rounds had gone in his thigh and he was bleeding profusely. His face was starting to become pasty white and his breathing was labored.

  Butch flipped open his Zippo lighter and lit the cigarette between his lips. He took in a deep breath and exhaled before coughing even harder.

  “You know, Frank, I had you all wrong. All the years I heard what people said about you. That you were missing a few bolts and screws up top, but that wasn’t the case, was it?”

  Frank glanced at a smudge of blood on his face.

  “You were probably the only one that knew this shit was coming. That’s why I took your stuff. I thought, if anyone would have medical supplies that could get us through this, it would be you.”

  “Didn’t you ever think to ask?”

  “I did, you told me to get off your island or have you forgot?” He took another puff. “In reality you brought this upon yourself.” He nodded and looked off towards the truck. “All this time you’ve been living by yourself, well, I hope you can live with yourself after what you’ve done.”

  Even though he was bleeding out, he wasn’t the kind of man to go out that way. His right hand, which was out of view, came around in one fast smooth motion. Frank didn’t even need to see the barrel before he unloaded four rounds into Butch’s chest. His body convulsed for a second, and then relaxed.

  Frank stood there for a few more seconds looking at his dead body before he crouched down and his eyes began to well up. Anxiety, fear, and panic made his body tremble. He wasn’t given to killing. Nor did he find pleasure in taking a life. Instinctively he reached into his pocket for his meds but they weren’t there.

  Though he never fully knew Butch or those that had burned up inside the building, they were locals, folks who were a part of his daily life. He’d seen them working in the stores, out and about in town, and fishing by the river.

  Crouched on the ground he couldn’t believe it had come to this. He placed a heavy hand against his forehead and sat there for a few more minutes trying to catch his breath before rising and heading for the truck.

  Twenty-Four

  The bald one carrying the gasoline moved cautiously towards the house. He had a guy beside him eyeing the windows, and he was nervously moving his rifle around. Sal and Jameson were under the cover of trees, about fifty feet from them.

  There was no discussion between the two; they knew what had to be done. As the men got closer to the house, the bald guy unscrewed the cap and began dousing the side of the house, moving along quickly, and at one point dropping the metal canister.

  Jameson had crouched down into a position to take the shot. He was the better marksman of the two of them and he was certain he could take him out without any further threat.

  Sal breathed heavily as he watched Jameson take the shot. The snap of the round echoed as the bullet struck the man in the side of his chest. He collapsed on the ground without being able to fully engulf the back of the house. There was a moment of exhilaration. A sense that they had accomplished what they had set out to do, but that was all smothered when they saw the flame in the other guy’s hand, he tossed it and a burst of fiery red and orange followed as it caught the corner portion of the house alight.

  As he turned to run, Jameson took him out.

  Flames crept up the side of the house and two more men stepped out from the tree line and began unloading round after round in their direction.

  Sal edged forward. “We need to get the kids out.”

  “I agree but wait a second.”

  Sal went to rush out into the clearing and towards the storm cellar when Jameson grabbed his leg and he collapsed on the ground.

  “Are you an idiot? The moment you step into that clearing you are dead.”

  “I’m not letting them die.”

  Jameson clenched his jaw. “Go then, I’ll cover you.”

  Sal raised his rifle and without any regard for aim he just began unloading rounds in the direction of the men while Jameson did the same. He sprinted across the clearing and landed hard on the cellar doors. Flustered, panicked, and wanting to throw up, he hurried to get the key in the lock. He’d just got it inside and twisted the lock off when a guy came around the side and fired at him. A bullet struck him in the shoulder and he collapsed. Fully expecting the guy to rush up and finish him off, he heard another crack and looked up to see Jameson rushing towards him.

  “Go, go.”

  Using all the energy he could muster Sal hauled himself up and yanked open the cellar doors and literally dropped down into the basement. He landed hard, rolling over the concrete steps. He gasped in agony. There wasn’t even time for Jameson to lock the doors, he launched himself inside and landed hard on top of Sal. Out of breath and gasping for air, he yanked up Sal and they rushed up the basement steps all the while hearing men coming from behind. As soon as they reached the top of the stairs they locked the door behind them and collapsed on the floor.

  Gloria screamed as she saw Sal’s bloody shirt.

  “We need to get out of here, they’ve set the place on fire.”

  Zach was up on his feet though grimacing through gritted teeth.

  “Ella, Hayley,” he yelled. They were still firing rounds so Jameson went up to get them. Seconds later they emerged. Ella was shocked at the sight of another one of them injured.

  “Listen up, we know two of them are dead, one is injured. That leaves three good men out there, that’s all. They can’t cover both exits.”

  “There’s two on the north side,” Ella said.

  “The fire is on the
south.”

  Already they could smell smoke as flames burst through one side of the house on the south corner.

  “There’s no easy way out of this. Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Jameson said. “I’m going to the north side and lay down some heat. Ella, you are going to have to fire from the south window, while the others make a break out the door.”

  They all looked at each other as though it was the last time they might see each other alive. It was like flipping a coin. Though in their case they had probably less chance of surviving. But if they didn’t leave now they would die from smoke inhalation.

  “Alright. Let’s do this,” Sal said rising to his feet. Coughing hard, Gloria had already brought the children down. They were huddled below a table with several items barricading off the sides.

  “I’ll go out first,” Zach said.

  “I’ll be right there with you,” Sal replied.

  They moved into position.

  “Ready?” Jameson yelled. The sound of Ella’s gun erupting gave him his answer. He joined in firing rapidly in multiple directions. The gunfire seemed even louder as Sal flung the door open and one by one they rushed out. He had his son Adrian beside him and was using his body to protect him. Gloria was doing the same with Bailey. Zach covered Jameson’s daughter, Kiera. Though he didn’t look to see if anyone was aiming a weapon at them, he figured he was inhaling his last breaths.

  “Gabriel!” Ella shouted.

  Sal turned his head to see several men rushing up the island and firing weapons at those who were attacking. Hope rose in his heart but only for a second. It was soon quelled as he turned to his right and saw Gloria hit the ground.

  “Gloria!” he screamed.

  He passed Adrian to Zach and he took him to the dense thicket while Sal rushed to Gloria’s side. She was motionless, bleeding from the side of her face. Several gaping holes, one in the neck, another in the face. He rolled her lifeless body over to find his daughter had been struck as well. She was still alive but sucking in air rapidly and had this wild look in her eyes.