Apocalypse Assassins: The Complete Series

by D. Laine

  “Surprisingly excellent,” I answered before Jake.

  “Her dad was ex-military,” David volunteered. “He taught her well.”

  “The people who raised her were hardcore doomsday preppers,” Jake added bitterly. “She’s been exposed to the possibility of this happening her whole life. She’s handling it surprisingly well.”

  “Better than I am,” David grumbled.

  “Wait a minute.” Keith shook his head as if he had a hard time following along. “Her parents were doomsday preppers?”

  “They weren’t her parents,” Jake gritted.

  Ignoring him, Keith continued, “Did they have connections to the agency?”

  “Not that we know of,” I answered. “The one and only time I met them, they tried to eat me.”

  “So they had no idea she was one of us?” Keith pressed.

  “What’s your point, Ringer?” Jake demanded.

  Keith threw his hands up at Jake’s sharp tone. “No point. I’m just trying to understand who I’m working with, that’s all.”

  “Well, she’s one of us,” Jake summarized, putting an end to the line of questions.

  Marcus grinned up at me, and I knew he wasn’t ready to let the topic of Thea go just yet. “So that’s her, huh?”

  “Yeah, that’s her.”

  “She doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

  “She’s a work in progress,” I muttered.

  “What did you do?” Kent asked.

  I gave him a sour look. “Easier question to ask would be, what haven’t I done?”

  Marcus snorted. “I only care that she runs fast and has a decent shot.”

  “We can do it.” Keith nodded enthusiastically. “We go at night, hug the ridge, use silencers . . .”

  “And if hell’s soldiers rain down on us?” I prompted.

  No one had an answer ready. Finally, a soft voice broke the uneasy silence and I turned to find Thea standing next to the air shaft.

  “Well,” she started, “we know they don’t like fire.”

  THEA’S subtle suggestion was all it took for the dazzling Ringer twins to whip up a plan to reach the tunnel. It wasn’t a bad plan, but there were a lot of variables impossible to predict. One wrong move would guarantee a swift death for all of us.

  That was assuming we actually made it through tonight. Because this plan—the one to get what we would need for the long trek to the agency—was probably the dumbest thing I had ever agreed to do.

  The only thing that made me feel remotely better about this whole thing was the sense of Marcus’s eyes on me from the ridge. The others too—Maria, Kent, Thea, and David—but mostly Marcus. He was the guy you wanted watching your back when you did something as stupid as walking into a town filled to the rim with tags.

  He and Maria manned the two high-profiled rifles from the ridge while the others used agency-patented night vision binoculars to scan the area around us for threats. The only communication between them and us was the occasional sound of their bullets whizzing by our heads.

  There was something gratifying about the rush of air in my ear moments before hearing the thud of impact into a target in front of me—a target I hadn’t seen in the thick shadows that lined the narrow alley.

  I lifted a hand in silent gratitude. Someone would see it and relay my thanks to whoever took that shot. It was a good one, I realized as we slinked past the fallen tag. Single shot between the eyes.

  “Shit,” Keith whispered from behind me. “I never even saw him.”

  “Me neither,” I admitted. Over my shoulder, I asked Jake, “How’s our six look?”

  “Dark and ominous,” he replied. “Let’s get out of here. This shit is creeping me out.”

  I pulled to a stop at the mouth of the alley and peered around the corner of the brick building at my back. The main road that ran through the town lay in front of us. Across the street and two buildings over was the gas station—the closest option we had for finding food and water.

  Not one light helped us to see what awaited us along the way. Hopefully Kent, Thea, and David could see—and relayed those dangers to Marcus and Maria. I demonstrated a hell of a lot of trust in them the moment I stepped into the street.

  The ash wasn’t falling nearly as hard as it had been right after the eruption, but enough still hung in the atmosphere to block out the moon and the stars. We were walking blind. The thick layer that coated the ground softened our footsteps—the only positive thing I had to say about the gray annoying shit. But if it softened our approach, it could also mask the sound of incoming danger. We hugged the many cars left abandoned in the street, using them for added cover.

  My ears picked up another familiar whistle, followed by a fleshy thud. Nearing the front of the gas station, I spotted the target sprawled across the narrow sidewalk. The tag’s body lay in the entryway, propping the door open.

  I peered into the darker shadows that awaited us inside. “Think there might be more?” I whispered.

  “We have to assume there will be,” Jake answered softly.

  “Of course,” I muttered.

  Indoors. The one place our backup on the ridge couldn’t offer us much assistance. Once inside, we were on our own.

  My finger flexed over the trigger of the gun in my hand. “Let’s go.”

  Keith flicked on the flashlight. Shielding most of the light with his hand, he directed the beam onto the floor, where we hoped it wouldn’t draw attention from any tags wandering by outside.

  My feet crunched over the broken glass and shredded newspapers that littered the floor as we passed the checkout counter to our right. I quickly counted four rows lined up on our left.

  We passed the first one, its previous contents unknown since the shelves had been wiped clear. Keith swiped the flashlight over a dark lump on the floor to reveal a half-consumed body.

  Jake gagged behind me.

  “Keep moving,” I coached. “Don’t look at it.”

  “I wish I hadn’t.”

  The next aisle had once been the candy aisle, as evidenced by the empty and trampled wrappers covering the floor. Most of the shelves were bare. I paused long enough to swipe two unbusted packages off the floor, and shoved them into my coat pocket.

  “Right here,” Keith announced quietly. He turned into the next aisle, leading the way with the flashlight.

  I passed a rack of magazines before what was left of the food came into view.

  “Not much,” Jake muttered.

  “Let’s grab what we can.”

  We each had a small bag—not that we thought we would actually find enough food to fill them all. The reason for three bags was more strategy than optimism. If one of us fell, the other two would still have something to take back to the group.

  “How much water you find over there?” I called out to Keith.

  “Only six bottles left,” he answered before dropping two into my bag.

  I buried them under a bag of pretzels.

  “Hey, I found some beef jerky,” Jake volunteered.

  “Is this going to be enough?” Keith wondered.

  I glanced up, and caught a flash of movement over Keith’s shoulder near the door. “It’s going to have to be,” I answered in a hushed voice. “We have company.”

  My announcement was followed by a familiar whistle-thud, then a noisy crash.

  “Our eyes from the ridge are on it,” Jake chuckled lightly.

  “We still need to hurry,” Keith said. “This is just going to have to do.”

  He started toward the front of the store before I stopped him.

  “Wait,” I called. “Shine that light over here on the potato chips on the floor. I want to see if they have any sour cream and onion I can salvage.”

  “Seriously?” Jake grumbled.

  “They’re Thea’s favorite. Just trying to be nice.” I shrugged. “Ah-ha!” I snatched a slightly trampled, half full bag and turned to Jake with a triumphant grin.

  “Happy now?”


  “I’ll be happy when we get out of here alive,” I responded.

  Of course, I couldn’t expect anything to be easy. It wasn’t called the apocalypse for nothing.

  The three of us whipped around at the sound of a commotion near the door. Multiple bodies hit the floor from an onslaught of well-placed sniper shots. The wailing screech that echoed from inside the store let us know at least one had made it through the door.

  “Where is it?” Jake demanded.

  “I don’t know,” I gritted. “I can’t see shit. Keith!”

  He swung the light up, canvasing the store in one fluid sweep. As he turned, a shiny pair of red eyes reflected back at us from the next aisle over.

  “Keith, down!” I pointed my gun at the advancing tag.

  He dropped to his knees as the tag charged. The flashlight hit the floor and spun. I couldn’t see worth a damn, but I pulled the trigger on the shadow racing in our direction. The silencer on the weapon softened the sound of the gunshot, but the hissing noises coming out of the tag more than made up for it.

  Apparently, I had missed its head.

  Jake snatched the spinning light off the floor and directed it at the tag as it launched itself on top of Keith. Half of its face hung in a bloody pulp, ripped off from the bullet I had fired. I didn’t know if tags could have brain damage without succumbing to death, but this one moved a little on the slow and awkward side for a fully matured tag. Keith was ready for it.

  He popped off a shot at close range, finally killing it. Blood and bone fragments sprayed his face as the body fell on top of him. His feet jerked under the dead weight pressing down on him. If it wasn’t so disgusting, I might have laughed at the vision combined with his reaction.

  “Get it the fuck off of me!”

  Choking down the bile in my throat, I kicked the tag’s body with my boot until Keith managed to clamber out from beneath it. He immediately turned his head to hurl onto the floor.

  “God, that shit stinks,” he groaned between heaves.

  “Yeah.” I nodded sympathetically. I, too, had thrown up the first time I got tag blood all over me. I knew exactly how he felt right now.

  “Choke it down, man,” Jake suggested softly. “I’m sure every other tag within earshot heard it wailing. We’ve got to move.”

  Keith pushed away from the shelf, wiping his mouth with his coat sleeve. “Let’s go.”

  Speed trumped stealth on our way out. We hurried across the parking lot toward the road, where a cluster of cars were piled up at the entrance. Hunkering down there, Keith withdrew the long rubber tube and gasoline can he had brought with him. The most vital objects in his supplies, he had joked. They had provided him and Kent with fuel since they left Salt Lake City. Without the fire they were able to create with the accelerant, they probably would have been dead by now.

  Jake and I flanked Keith as he got to work on syphoning gas from a large SUV. Peering over the hood of the vehicle, I glanced toward the ridge. I couldn’t see them, but I knew the others could see me.

  “You really think this is going to work?” I asked after a moment of watching Keith work. I looked up when no one answered, and found Jake staring at me. “What?”

  “You have doubts already?” he questioned.

  “No . . .” I shrugged. “Not really. I’m just . . .”

  Yeah, I was doubtful. Not about the ability of fire to keep the tags at bay. I had seen proof of that. I just worried that it might not be enough. I worried that the tunnel we were relying on to get us to safety wasn’t there. If by some miracle it was, I worried not all of us would make it through alive. Or that we would succumb to dehydration before we ever made it to the base.

  “Cautious,” I finished softly.

  Jake nodded, but didn’t respond.

  The unmistakable sound of a sniper bullet hitting its mark cut through the silence. Another quickly followed.

  “You about done with that?” I asked Keith.

  “Almost.”

  Another fleshy thud. Then another.

  I spun to peer into the darkness behind us. Everywhere I looked, I saw nothing but shadows and ash. But they were out there. They were coming.

  Whistle-thud. Whistle-thud.

  “We need to go,” I told the guys.

  “Another minute and it will be full,” Keith replied.

  “No, we need to go now.” I yanked the container out of Keith’s grasp and fastened the cap. “They’re shooting at something. A bunch of somethings. I can’t see them, I can’t hear them, but I know they’re there.”

  “Where?” Jake whispered.

  I didn’t have the answer. I darted between the cars in the street, heading steadily toward the alley and the ridge. Toward safety.

  Whistle-thud. Whistle-thud.

  “Where the fuck are they?” Keith whispered harshly from behind me.

  Our pace increased out of urgency . . . and fear. I felt it, rushing through my veins like a drug injected into me against my will. I didn’t like the way it felt.

  The moment we turned into the alley, all hell broke loose. The echo of semi-automatic gunshots bounced off the brick walls around us. They weren’t supposed to use anything but the high-powered rifles with silencers unless they saw that we were in big trouble. The sound of guns shooting from above us could only mean one thing.

  “Run!” Keith yelled.

  I didn’t need to be told twice. I had seen what these things could do. I had felt the sharpness of their teeth once already. I didn’t want a repeat.

  I leapt over a dead tag sprawled on the ground and sprinted through the darkness. I couldn’t see shit. For all I knew, we were running at the tags. The deafening sound of gunfire all around us blocked out any other sounds we might have otherwise heard.

  When we finally emerged from the alley, I heard it—the high-pitched screeching that chilled me to my core. I couldn’t tell if it was coming from the right, or the left, or both, but I knew it wasn’t just one or two tags making all that noise. Their shrieks rolled over me, nearly crippling me with fear, as they drew closer.

  With a sudden burst of clarity, I realized I didn’t want to die. Though the prospect of meeting an early grave came with being an assassin in this business, I wasn’t ready.

  My legs got the memo, and pushed me faster and harder. Jake and Keith darted in and out of my periphery as they hauled ass beside me.

  The ground sloped gently down behind the buildings. It leveled out at a narrow stream of water, before rising again sharply. Unstable rock and dirt, made more slippery by the layer of fallen ash, awaited us.

  I vaulted over the stream and grabbed a handful of ash and stone as I hurtled up the steep embankment. Jake and Keith both climbed to my right. They didn’t look back, and neither did I. Not even the firepower coming from above us managed to drown out the screams and snarls inching closer behind us. Something grazed my foot, prompting me to climb faster.

  I reached the lip that jutted out from the peak first. A hand appeared above me, offering me the assistance I would need to climb over the ledge to safety. I handed off the bag of supplies and the gas can, then looked back for Jake and Keith.

  “Shit!”

  I pulled my gun up to fire at the swarm of tags closing in on my friends. They reached the lip at the same time, and jumped for the hands extended to them.

  “Dylan, come on!” David waved his hand above my head.

  Once Jake’s and Keith’s toes lifted off the ground, I took David’s hand. I used my free arm and my legs to assist him in hoisting me up. My nails barely dug into the ledge when bony fingers wrapped around my ankle. I slid out of David’s grasp and swung from the ledge, holding on by the tips of my fingers while I kicked at the tag that clawed at my legs.

  Thea leaned over the lip to grab the front of my coat. “Don’t let go!”

  Someone put a bullet in the tag that had grabbed me. He plummeted to the bottom, but there were easily two dozen more scampering up the steep face of the clif
f, edging closer. Before they could reach me, I swung for David’s extended hand. Together, he and Thea pulled me up and over the ledge. We rolled to the ground in a jumbled heap of limbs, all three of us panting.

  David recovered first, and lunged toward the edge to peer down at the tags beneath us. I really hoped Marcus had been right about them not being able to climb it. I didn’t think they could, considering we had needed help for the last part. The lack of urgency from David and the others convinced me we were safe and that it was okay to lay on the ground for another minute and appreciate the passing of another encounter without being made into dinner.

  Besides, I still had Thea halfway wrapped around my legs like a hot dog bun. I didn’t really want to move if it meant staying like this.

  Of course, I knew better than to hope the moment would last.

  Thea unraveled her arms and legs, and scooted back to recline against the wall of the ledge behind her. Her mask slipped, and I glimpsed some real emotion on her face when she peered down at me. Emotion she claimed to no longer feel.

  I grinned knowingly, and she promptly slid the mask back in place.

  “Your ankle okay?” she inquired coolly.

  “It’s fine.”

  She nodded stiffly before jumping to a stand. Behind me, Jake and Keith were telling the rest of the group what we had seen and what we had managed to gather from the gas station. Thea pretended to be absorbed with what they were saying as I pushed to my feet beside her.

  I snatched the bag filled with food off the ground and retrieved what I was looking for. I held the peace offering out to Thea, like any guy who found himself in the doghouse would do for the girl he was trying to impress. Only not usually with a half empty bag of crushed potato chips.

  “Sour cream and onion?” she questioned, like she couldn’t believe her eyes.

  Perhaps it was a testament to how screwed up everything was. Or maybe it was just the type of girl Thea was. Either way, in that moment, a bag of potato chips was better than a bouquet of the most exotic flowers.

  She could deny it all she wanted. One look in her eyes, and I knew the truth. She still felt something for me. I just needed to help her realize it.