As the man gurgled blood, Terrell delivered his kill shot, a knife jammed through the throat. He twisted the blade, making sure to finish the job, and then grabbed the flashlight from the floor beside him. He used it to illuminate the body enough and loot a full magazine and another knife.
He grinned deviously in the darkness and then dragged the body over to one of the nearby tombstones. He propped the guy up against it, and then jammed his knife through one of his eyes to hold him there facing the entrance. As he worked, the gunfire from outside began to die down, signifying his time running out.
“This oughta let ‘em know I mean business,” Terrell said brightly, and then stuck the flashlight in the man’s hand, shining it up at his face.
He recovered the other flashlight and headed through the haunted house to the exit.
“Four down,” he said, tone gleeful, “three to go!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Miles headed back over to Coleman, who stood over their captive.
The sniper eyed him, noting his empty hands. “You not find any guns?” he asked, motioning to him.
“Found several actually, and a decent amount of ammo,” Miles replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Also found their SUV parked behind the tree line up there, so I went ahead and got it loaded up.”
Coleman grinned. “So we’re looking good, then?”
“Oh yeah, those boys had some good stuff,” Miles replied. “We’ll be kicking ass for a while.”
The sniper raised a victorious fist. “Nothing like looting the dead,” he declared.
“So how’s this one doing?” Miles asked, motioning to the man beneath them, his head lolling back and forth.
Coleman kicked his prisoner’s leg. “He’s still a bit out of it,” he said.
Miles knelt down next to him, inspecting his face that was covered in crimson from a bleeding nose. “Nah, I think he’s faking it,” he declared, and got back to his feet.
“What makes you say that?” Coleman asked.
Miles shrugged. “Gut intuition.”
“That’s sound medical reasoning, there,” the sniper replied, chuckling.
Miles crossed his arms sheepishly. “Twenty bucks says he’s faking,” he suggested.
“Twenty bucks, huh?” Coleman replied, raising an eyebrow. “Why not a million, since it holds about the same amount of worth these days?”
Miles barked a laugh. “Good point,” he said. “Okay, how about this? Next batch of booze we find, winner gets the first two picks.”
“Playing for something real, I dig it,” Coleman said, snapping his fingers. “You’re on.”
His companion grinned. “All right, you wanna kick us off, then?”
Coleman knelt beside the man, winding a fist in his hair to lift his head. His eyes stayed unfocused, looking off into the distance.
“You with me there, bud?” the sniper asked. “We got some questions for you.”
The man continued to stare into nothingness.
“Hello, earth to douchebag?” Coleman asked, snapping his fingers a few times. “Anybody home?” Still nothing, so he shrugged and got back to his feet, letting his prisoner’s head fall back down. “Looks pretty out of it to me,” he said. “You want to concede, or do you have a plan in mind?”
Miles smirked and motioned for his friend to back up. Once he did, he knelt down in front of the man himself, grabbing his hair as well, and lifting his head up just as the sniper had.
“I promise you’re gonna want to stop pretending real soon,” he declared, and then when there was no response, he pulled his handgun and fired a hair’s breadth away from the prisoner’s crotch, into the dirt. “The next shot is going right through your dick, motherfucker,” Miles informed him. “And after it’s off, I’m gonna fucking feed it to you!”
The man’s blank stare immediately disappeared, his eyes widening with fear and clarity. “Okay, okay!” he cried. “I’ll talk!”
Miles grinned and got to his feet, throwing his friend a wink.
“You’re a sick motherfucker, you know that?” Coleman asked, though he looked impressed.
His companion shrugged. “There’s a reason I fit in so well with you guys,” he said.
Coleman chuckled and shook his head, and then turned to the chained man. “So, you’re ready to talk, huh?”
“Whatever you want to know, man,” the prisoner gushed. “Just keep him away from me.”
“Okay,” the sniper said, rubbing his palms together. “First things first, who are you guys?”
The man swallowed hard. “We work for the Boss,” he said quickly. “Doing specialized jobs.”
“Like what?” Coleman asked.
The prisoner shook his head. “Yesterday we were leading a horde away from a town,” he said, “day before that we were securing material for a giant bomb. You know, stuff ordinary people might have a problem with.”
“Ordinary people, huh?” Coleman cocked his head. “You military?”
The man shook his head. “I was police, but some of the other guys were military or ex-military,” he explained. “Before all this we all weren’t the highest trained people, but today we’re better than most.”
“Given how we took all you guys out, you may want to rethink that,” the sniper quipped.
The prisoner winced. “You should see some of the saps we left behind.”
“Fair enough,” Coleman replied. “But why come after us? We were gone and the Boss had what he wanted.”
His captive shuddered. “You’d have to ask the Boss,” he said, shaking his head. “All I know is he said you three were a clear and present danger to the community and needed to be dealt with.”
“So you were just following orders?” Coleman asked with a sneer. “Novel defense.”
“I wasn’t exactly in a position to question orders,” the prisoner insisted. “And I’m guessing with the skill you boys have, you’ve been in that same position a time or two.” He looked between them with pleading eyes. “Or am I missing my mark there?”
Coleman and Miles shared a pointed glance before the sniper turned back to him. “So who is your leader?” he asked.
“Badass guy named Marco,” the prisoner replied. “Don’t know too much about him other than he’s an absolute unit of a human being. Big, fast, strong and ruthless. Not the type of guy you want on your ass.”
The sniper pursed his lips. “So I’m guessing he’s not among the dead, here?”
“No,” his captive replied, shaking his head, “he was in the group that went after your friend.”
Miles clenched his jaw.
“Don’t worry,” Coleman assured him, “Cap can handle his own.”
His companion sighed. “Still, we should probably go lend a hand.”
Coleman nodded and pulled out his handgun, holding it at his side. “So, what do you think we should do with him?” he asked.
“I threatened to shoot his dick off and feed it to him,” Miles pointed out. “So pretty sure my position is clear. But it’s your call.”
The sniper stared the man in the eye. “I understand you were in a difficult position,” he said. “I’ve been there myself, and it’s not fun. But you have an opportunity right now to free yourself from ever being put in that position again.” He pointed a finger in his face. “Now, I’m going to loosen these chains so you can get out of them. Gonna take you a little while, but you can do it if you try. You’re free to go your own way, but know this. If you join back up with the Boss and his men, my friend here is going to make good on his threat to feed you your manhood.” He raised his chin. “Is that clear?”
The prisoner nodded furiously. “Yes, thank you,” he gushed. “You’ll never see me again!”
“Ah, but we might,” Coleman replied, wagging his finger. “Which is why you’re going to find your own path, right?”
“I’m done with them,” the man insisted.
Coleman studied him for a moment, unsure of whether to believe hi
m or not. “Okay,” he finally said, and then loosened the chains a bit, giving him some wiggle room. “You good with that?”
“Yeah, I can manage,” the prisoner replied.
The sniper nodded. “Good.” He turned to Miles and they started to walk away, but he paused and turned back. “Your gun is over there by the side of the house. There’s some food and water in the kitchen. I would recommend heading inland, maybe down towards rural Georgia. We’ve heard some horror stories about the coast.”
“Appreciate it,” the prisoner replied, eyes sincere. “Good luck, you two. You’ll need it against Marco.”
As the soldiers headed for the SUV, Miles raised an eyebrow. “Kind of surprised you let him live,” he admitted.
Coleman shook his head. “Been far too much killing the last few days,” he replied. “Just wanted to remind myself of what it was like to not put a man down.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Terrell took cover behind the wall of the bumper cars, catching his breath from the cat and mouse games. Avoiding zombies and trained killers was exhausting. He looked out over the center of the carnival, noting a large, disturbing clown statue in the center, with several dozen zombies milling about.
Sounds of gunfire echoed in the distance.
Guess they’re running into some of your friends, he thought, as if speaking to the zombies. Would probably be too much to ask for your buddies to take them out for me, huh?
The gunshots grew closer, sounding like they were coming from the aisle next to where Terrell was hiding. He ducked down and crept forward, peeking up over the top. A few zombies from the clown cluster wandered off towards the noise.
A few seconds later, they dropped, the gunfire closer. This enraged the dozens still in the center, and they moved after their fallen brethren. As they did, three men appeared, including the beastly latino guy from earlier.
To shoot or not to shoot, Terrell thought, that is the question. He readied his assault rifle, but stayed low, waiting to see what his pursuers were going to do.
The leader barked out some orders, pointing in two different directions. A moment later, they broke off, with him and one man running to one side of the horde, and a lone man heading Terrell’s way. He was tall and muscular, looking almost like a white version of the Captain in terms of build.
It’s like they want to make this easy on me, he thought gleefully. He smirked and threw his assault rifle back over his shoulder, ducking out of sight. He listened as the gunman walked closer to the bumper cars, straining to focus on the steps over the moans of the hungry undead.
The wall Terrell hid behind was about waist high, which wasn’t a lot of cover if the person was right up on them. He kept his hand on his sidearm, just in case the enemy didn’t approach him straight on. Shooting would be bad, because it would potentially alert the others, not to mention the dozens of creatures nearby.
Terrell readied himself as the footsteps sounded nearly a few feet away, and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing, he thought, and popped up from behind the wall.
The man was surprised, and tried to raise his gun in a panic, but Terrell smacked it out of his hands. His opponent grabbed him by the top of his shirt, but the Captain reversed the move by thrusting his arm underneath him and flipping him over the wall.
The man landed hard on the wood paneled floor of the bumper car arena, sliding a few feet along the ground on his back. He leapt to his feet, brandishing a long knife.
“I’m gonna cut you up good, boy,” he snarled with a sneer.
Terrell drew his own knife, grinning back at him. “You’re more than welcome to try,” he quipped.
The man rushed Terrell, swinging his knife at torso height, and the Captain leapt back to dodge it. He countered with a slash of his own, catching his opponent in the arm. The man looked at the blood running down his tricep, and lifted it, licking the crimson liquid from his skin with a wild expression in his eyes.
He lunged forward, and stabbed straight out, and Terrell smacked his weapon hand away, lunging himself, but received the same treatment in return. They exchanged slashes and stabs in an almost mirror-image dance, but neither could land a hit on the other.
Finally the man raised the knife above his head and brought it down hard, and Terrell saw his opening, ducking to the side and lunging in to stab at his opponent’s kidney. In his momentum, he lost grip of his knife, leaving it in the man’s gut.
His opponent turned around, pulled the knife from his body, and tossed it over the wall into the sea of zombies drawn by the noise. A few of the corpses managed to tumble over the waist-high barrier, smacking down hard on the wood.
“This just got interesting,” the man declared.
Terrell shook his head. “You and I have very different definitions of that word,” he said.
His attacker simply grunted in response and rushed forward to attack his now-unarmed opponent, despite the blood gushing down his body.
Terrell ducked underneath the first horizontal strike, and then leaned back to avoid the return slash. The man stabbed at him, but he smacked his knife hand to the side and delivered an open-palm strike to the man’s chest, staggering him backwards.
As his opponent readied his next attack, one of the zombies approached Terrell. The Captain grabbed it by the shirt and flung it around, using it as a shield to block the knife strike coming for him. The blade embedded into the corpse’s skull, and Terrell shoved the creature forward, forcing his opponent to shove it away.
The Captain took the opportunity to punch him in the jaw, and the man staggered back, his knife still in the fallen ghoul. He frantically swung, missing Terrell but hitting another zombie in the jaw. The Captain lunged forward, putting his shoulder into the man’s wounded gut, sending him flying back over one of the dead bumper cars.
His opponent hit the ground hard, the air whooshing out of his lungs. Terrell kicked out at the zombie nearest to him, sending it down as well, and then stomped on its head, crushing its skull and ending it for good.
His living opponent wheezed as he peeled himself from the floor, blood pouring out of his mouth. He tried to let out an aggressive grunt, but it was weak due to his fall. Terrell looked past him at the zombies on the other side of the wall, reaching out, only a few yards away from a fresh fleshy meal.
He broke out into a spring, rushing straight for his opponent. This caught him off guard, and he threw himself forward in an attempt to meet with equal force, but failed. The Captain hit him like a linebacker, but then lifted him up off of the ground. The man’s heels dragged along the wood as Terrell drove him back.
The man brought his elbow down onto Terrell’s head, but he didn’t let up, giving one final heave and sending the beast of a man into the outstretched rotting arms. It didn’t take long for the feast to begin, the man screaming in agony as several ghouls ripped at his flesh.
Terrell watched as blood spurted everywhere, coating the faces of zombies gnawing hungrily at him. The man’s screams were quickly silenced as a creature latched on to his voice box, and they dragged him over the wall and overwhelmed him, fighting for the warm meat.
The Captain walked over and grabbed the knife from the fallen zombie’s skull, standing and watching the feast as he contemplated his next move.
Two more on the other side of the lot, he thought. What to do, what to do? Straight assault, catch them by surprise, and gun them down? He cocked his head as he cleaned the knife and sheathed it. Possible, but where’s the fun in that? Then again… a little gunplay might bring in some reinforcements. He glanced at the zombies, some of whom had full limbs in their mouths as they ate.
He smiled at them. “What do you say, y’all still hungry?” he asked, and received loud moans in return. “All right, buddies, let’s get you some food.”
He took off his assault rifle before running to the side of the rink and hopping over the wall. He immediately ran towards the center of the lot, past the mini-horde that began to follow him, and past the ter
rifying clown statue. On his left were carnival games, in the middle were concession stands, and on the right were two large buildings, a mirror maze and a fun house.
Terrell looked out, scanning the area to try to get a read on the final two men. He glanced over his shoulder to note that the zombies were a good thirty yards away, so he had some time to figure out his next move. After a few moments, he spotted one of them walking out from behind a carnival game, headed towards the concession.
Got you, he thought, and broke from the statue, running straight down the concession stand row, using it as cover. When he got in he moved slowly to the left, attempting to come up from behind the enemy duo.
When he came around the corner, he inched his way up to the first gap between the buildings where he’d seen his target walking. He peeked around, only seeing one man about fifteen yards up. He waited until he was crossing the next aisle, in full view of the zombies.
Terrell came around the corner, gun raised and target in sight, but before he could pull the trigger, another gunshot rang out. The bullet hit just behind his head, starling him and forcing him to drop to one knee.
Terrell immediately turned to his left, looking up the aisle, seeing a man trying to get his sights dialed in. The Captain fired a couple of times, missing but forcing the man to dive for cover behind a sno cone stand.
He got up and ran as his target fired several times. Terrell was able to dive over the front of a basketball shooting game, landing hard on the ground as bullets shredded the booth. He waited for the shooting to die down before popping up and squeezing off several rounds.
His opponent ducked for cover at a funnel cake booth, his friend joining him. The three exchanged sporadic gunfire for a few moments, neither hitting anything of substance.
Terrell ducked down and looked out at the square, seeing the horde of zombies closing in, about thirty yards away from where he was. He looked to the back, seeing only a tall chain link fence and no door.
Dead America The Third Week Box Set | Books 7-12 Page 32
