“Now come on over, sweet thing. You look like your starving for a real man.”
Their evil voices echoed through the night.
CHAPTER 7 (Holly)
I stepped farther into the shadows of the alley, saying a silent thanks to the universe.
I crouched and flattened myself against the wall. One man guarding the ten. Sheer luck.
I made my way down the backs of the buildings closer to the pub. I swallowed my nerves, attempting to gather my courage, but all I felt was fear.
Hoping my adrenaline would kick in, I stepped forward to check the surroundings. The men were still preoccupied torturing the women further down the street.
The fire was dimming, the edges of darkness expanding around the tightening circle.
I slipped across the street, hiding in the darkness. The windows had no coverings, and I could see a lantern glowing in the front, near the bar as I crossed.
A shadow drifted back and forth in front of it. The stores on that side of the street had apartments above them.
I saw one very dim light upstairs, obscured by a heavy curtain. The visibility poor and non-intrusive. The second floor was a mystery.
I cut behind the buildings next to the pub, cautiously finding my way to the back door.
I tried the handle, but it resisted. An unlocked door - too good to be true. I reasoned out my next steps.
I could make a small sound for him to investigate, try to bring him to me, or I could climb through a window.
The window option might be too exposed, but what if he calls for backup when he hears something near the back door?
I settled for trying to open the window and hoped he would think it was one of the men trying to escape.
I tried to push the window up. My sweaty palms slipped and padded against the window pane, letting out a quiet thud and gentle creaking.
I waited. No movement. I dried my hands on my pants and pushed harder. It shifted up slightly. The noise louder.
A muffled voice carried through the pub.
“Steve. Hey, Steve! You okay up there?!”
James was yelling up the stairs.
“Yeah,” a menacing voice growled down from the upper floor. “I’m checking the supplies. They’re all here, bound and secure.”
“I heard a creaking or something at the back window. I’m going to check it out!” James yelled up.
Though tall and lanky, James had a young, fresh voice. Still a little bit of height and shrillness to it.
He hadn’t quite grown into his arms and legs, which explained why he was the one stuck with the others, the weakest link.
But Steve . . . his voice was familiar. The voice from the alley.
The silent man that stalked the three of us and succeeded by adding Liza and Matthew to Joseph’s entourage.
A hitch in the plans, and for some reason, he scared me more than Joseph did.
His voice was gravelly and deep like the open sea, dark underneath, steady and unwavering, the waves crashing above never unsettling him where James was young and hopefully careless.
Still, so young. In different circumstances, there could have been so much room for him to be a different person.
“Just go out there. Join the fun. I can handle everything from here on out,” Steve added.
“Okay, Steve. I’ll check it out. I’m sure it’s just the old building settling. Then, I’ll head out if you’re good?” His voice was unsure, the bloodied face from just minutes before wouldn’t be easy to forget.
Patrick seemed like the typical schoolyard bully grown big and self-important.
This was his playground, and he was a brute. I could still hear his booming voice harassing the women with a barrage of crude solicitations.
James’ footsteps thudded through the bar, moving towards the back of the pub.
I ducked behind the door, unsheathing my knife. His fingers fumbled at the window, flipping the lock back and forth and testing the window after locking it back.
He opened the back door and stepped out into the alley. I peered from behind the door. His back was to me, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the area.
I crept forward with my knife unsheathed, and just as he turned, I slammed the knife point up and deep into the side of his neck. He clawed at his throat and tried to yell out, but the only sound was a thick gurgling as he collapsed.
I reached for my knife, tugging it out of the moist skin, and wiped the blade with James’ shirt. Blood bubbled out of the wound as his breathing shortened and eventually gave way to stillness.
His arm was bent at an odd angle behind him. I quickly checked his pulse. Definitely dead. I slid his eyelids down.
My second kill in two days. I gagged and vomited as a cold sweat broke out across my body. The convulsions gave way to tears.
I gulped down the night air, slowed my breathing, and let the cool, night air bring me back.
Swallow it and get going. Liza and Matthew need you.
James’ gun lay underneath him. I grabbed it and slipped the strap over my head. Then, I hooked my arms under his and struggled against his awkward length, dragging him into the shadows next to the dumpster, tucking his legs and arms inward.
He lay there, curled up, like he was sleeping quietly. Peaceful.
I stepped softly into the open doorway, closing it behind me. Steve won’t be so easy. My best bet would be to start a panic.
The storeroom and kitchen were dark and foreboding. I slipped past them, ducking into each doorway briefly to make sure they were empty.
The bar was intact. Stools all pushed to the side, and crates of liquor and food stockpiled in the corner. Wrappers and leftover food strewn across the tables.
The lantern cast an orange glow.
I stole across the room, slowly pushed the front door open, and hoped that the noise would be mistaken for James rushing to join the “fun.”
The group had dispersed, most of them in surrounding buildings, not even bothering to close the doors. Some were out in the open, inside abandoned cars or tucked into alleyways.
The sounds of whimpering and crying and screaming mixed with the unmistakable grunts of fulfilled lust reverberated throughout the street.
I slipped further down the street, a couple of buildings down from the pub, raised the gun, and let out a volley of bullets.
Swiftly, I bolted into the nearest alleyway and ran to the back of the pub as I heard the yells of men, caught in the middle of their debauchery and slow to move into the street.
The first one out would probably be Steve, I prayed. He was the only one on his game, the only one smart enough to keep careful watch, to not participate.
If he’d secured the men well enough, I was hoping he would feel safe leaving them for a moment.
My bet paid off, as I slowed and crept through the back door of the pub, I saw the front door swing wide.
Steve ran through it and out into the street. The firelight from the storefront was a warm, campfire glow, and cast long shadows, perfect cover.
I dashed upstairs. The men were bound and gagged, zip ties cutting into their wrists and binding their ankles.
I searched in the faint glow of the lantern, looking for Matthew’s unmistakable black curls.
“Matthew,” I breathed out, crouching down and gazing into his eyes.
I sawed at the ties that bound him, gently kissed his forehead, and moved on to the next person.
“One of you needs to go look out the front and see what’s going on,” Matthew hissed as he grabbed his pack from across the room, unzipped the pocket, and then grabbed his knife. “We don’t have much time until they figure it out.”
One of the liberated men scurried down the stairs.
Matthew joined me, helping me free the prisoners. I cut the last one free. We all nodded at each other and headed down the stairs.
“Hey,” the lookout whispered as we gathered in the bar, “they are up and moving around. One guy pulled the truck down the bl
ock, and I heard them yelling to each other to gather down there. It looks like they’re starting to go building by building, opening doors and clearing each building. I think some of the women ran into the shadows, but they dragged a couple of them along with them.”
“Okay, the best bet is that we scatter,” Matthew instructed the men. “We’ll go out the back.”
“Matthew and I are going to find our friend, good luck to you all,” I added.
One by one, the men cleared the alleyway and exited into the darkness.
Matthew and I waited for everyone to clear the pub.
Before we walked into the darkness, I grabbed two bottles of rum. From behind the bar, I plucked a hand towel and a matchbook. I drenched the cloth in the rum and stuffed the tip into the second bottle.
Matthew caught on to my plan and started pouring alcohol out over the crates and the bar. We backed out of the bar area. I lit the hand towel after a few tries and tossed it into the bar.
We turned and ran into the alley. Flames igniting the bar behind us.
We ran away from the blaze, turning right and heading toward the building Joseph had led Liza to.
We silently cleared each alleyway, the blaze burning hotter and bright, flickering shadows across the street front on the other side of the buildings.
Their supplies were compromised, so they would be slow in following us. They’d have to restock first.
We had used the darkness to flee, and now, the bar fire exposed them as they searched each building from the front, and we cleared each alleyway that led to the back.
I knew it couldn’t last long, though. They would start canvasing the streets behind the buildings soon. We finally came to the back of the office building.
We cut along the side street next to the building, hiding in its shadow. The truck was parked in front of the alley across the street.
One man stood watch over several of the women. I could just pick out the two young girls holding onto one another. I heard a voice rise above the night.
“Here piggy, piggy, piggy. Holly? Holly? Where are you? You’ve been a naughty little girl. Oh, yes. I’ve got your friend here.”
Joseph joined the man at the front of the truck, Liza at his side.
He continued:
“Come on, sweet Holly! I knew you would come for her. Sweet little girls, can’t leave your besties behind.”
I could hear the sneer in his voice, the oily darkness oozing out of him.
He kicked Liza in the back. She yelped and landed on her hands and knees. I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms to help sharpen my focus.
He twisted Liza up by her hair, forcing her to face the building.
“Tell her what I told you, Liza. Tell her, sweetie.”
With his other hand, he prodded her in the back with the gun.
I turned to Matthew. His face was ignited with unleashed rage.
“Matthew,” I whispered. “You’ve got to keep lookout behind us. I think he’s just distracting us until they can corner us. Any suggestions?”
Matthew turned toward the back alleyway as I handed him the rifle. We were back to back, then.
My shivering intensifying while I watched Joseph grab the girls and sling them down onto the pavement beside Liza.
“He won’t hurt you, Holly. He . . . he told me he won’t hurt you if, if I tell him about you, about us, our friendship, where we are going. He promised he won’t hurt you.”
Liza shouted it out, gulping down huge sobs in between each sentence.
“I will, however, kill all three of these beauties if you don’t turn yourself in. What a pity. They are so lovely. So young, so much promise. Come on, Holly, you’ve been a bad girl, and you need some discipline. Come on out. I’ll count to ten.”
He started counting slowly and adding to his diatribe in between each number of the countdown.
“Holly, he doesn’t know I’m with you,” Matthew whispered behind me. “He also has no idea that you have a gun. We can use that.”
“I’m going out, Matthew,” I whispered back defiantly. “I’m going to distract him and try to get the girls out of the way. As soon as you see a shot, take it. We don’t have long. The sky’s getting lighter and lighter.”
The predawn grey had begun to chase the darkness out of the sky.
“Okay, I’m going to head a couple of buildings down and try to cut across the street,” just as Matthew said it, I felt him tense and shift away from me.
Gunfire resounded behind me.
I screamed and turned, expecting to see Matthew lying lifeless on the ground beneath me, but I only saw Patrick’s body slumped against the wall behind Matthew.
“Matthew, look out!” I yelled.
Several men had rounded the corner behind him.
I swung around and drew my Glock.
Matthew caught the first one to round the corner, spraying him with bullets.
We flattened ourselves against the wall.
A standoff, both parties waiting for the other to make a move, and then, I heard the gunshot from across the street.
He’d reached 10. I looked toward the truck, trembling in fear.
The older sister was lying face-up in the street, her sister slung across her body, yelling out: “Wake up, Sarah! Wake up, Sarah!”
Joseph leaned down, gently lifting the girl from her sister’s lifeless body.
Cupping her chin and giving her a lingering kiss. She turned on him, a caged animal, desperate for survival.
She grabbed at the gun that hung from his body. I raised my gun and downed the man covering Liza.
He had just pivoted and aimed his gun at the sister. Everything unfolded in slow motion.
Liza gathered her wits, I saw the realization on her face, and I stepped out into the street.
Our eyes met, and she ran toward me. The gun went off as the girl and Joseph struggled for control.
Liza’s eyes widened, a bright wound blossomed across her stomach, flowering out and blooming into a crimson stain.
She looked at me, screamed “RUN!” and slumped to the pavement. Joseph was gaining control of the gun. He knocked the girl out with the butt of the rifle and turned.
He looked up to raise his gun, but he was too slow.
With killer precision, I quickly raised my gun and put a bullet neatly in the center of his forehead.
CHAPTER 8 (Holly)
On the other side of me, Matthew had left the safety of the wall to cover me when I stepped out into the street.
After Joseph fell, I spun around to see Matthew leaning against the wall, again, blood smearing the side of his leg.
He’d won out, though. The last man that rounded the corner had taken on a spray of bullets from Matthew’s gun.
I wrapped his arm around my neck, looked both ways out into the street, and I helped him hobble across to the truck.
The street was empty as the sun began to spray the sky with blood reds and angry oranges. Matthew slid into the passenger side of the truck, his gun lifted and trained against the buildings ahead of us.
I patted down James, feeling for the truck keys, and pulling them from his jacket pocket.
I tossed the keys to Matthew and grabbed the youngest girl and shook her, trying to wake her.
“Come on, Holly! They’re coming down the street!” I looked up to see three men in the distance, walking with purpose towards Joseph’s truck.
They were too far to see detail, but it wouldn’t be long before they realized that Joseph and his man were lying on the street, dead.
I lifted the girl under the arms, trying to drag and push her into the bed of the truck.
“Holly! Get down!” Matthew turned and sprayed the street behind us with bullets.
I looked up to see Steve inching closer on the other side of the street.
I had managed to slide the top half of the girl into the bed of the truck, her bottom half hung limply from the tailgate, feet and legs heavy and dragging. The truck r
umbled to a start.
“No, Matthew! No! I don’t have her yet!”
Bullets whizzed past the truck from both sides.
“We have to go, Holly! I’m sorry! Hang on!” Matthew yelled.
He slammed the truck into gear and jolted forward. The girl was too heavy.
Our Survival: A Collection of Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thrillers Page 63