Nightmare Army

by Don Pendleton

  The big man jerked from the impact of the bullets, but didn’t drop. He didn’t even slow down. What the hell? Only crazed meth or PCP junkies were able to shrug off bullets like that. Aiming for his face, Bolan triggered his weapon once more and the guard crashed to the ground right in front of him. Sevan was nowhere to be seen.

  “Striker, we have shots fired and a lot of activity in the house—” Tokaido began.

  “Sevan is making a break for it!” Bolan replied as he stepped around the body and hit the door. “In pursuit now!” Outside the bedroom was a small landing with stairs leading down to the main level. Angry shouting could be heard below as Bolan hit the stairs.

  “Goddamn it, what is wrong with all of you?” Sevan roared. “A killer’s in my goddamn bedroom with Evie! Stop fucking around down here, cut me loose and go kill him!”

  Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Bolan spotted Sevan in the middle of the large living room, filled with more sleek, modern furniture. Standing among three of his guards, the Mob boss nodded at the stairs, his eyes widening when he saw Bolan. “There he is!”

  The three hardmen raised their pistols or submachine guns, but Bolan already had his weapon out and aimed. Three shots later, the trio was on the floor, dead or dying. But they had done their jobs, delaying Bolan enough for their boss to escape into another room.

  The memorized floor plan in Bolan’s mind told him Sevan was heading for the kitchen, where he’d no doubt find something with which to free himself. Swapping his half-empty magazine with a fresh one, the Executioner kept his pistol pointed at the three bodies, blood on their chests from his shots plainly visible as he began moving past them toward the kitchen.

  That was when one of the strangest things Bolan had ever experienced happened.

  One of them moved.

  More specifically, a slick, sweaty hand reached out and grabbed his ankle, locking on it in a viselike grip.

  When Bolan felt the hand grab his foot from behind, he whirled to see the man trying to pull his leg to his sweating face. But what was really weird was the bodyguard’s mouth was wide open, saliva-flecked teeth white in the darkness, as though it was ready to take a bite out of him.

  Bolan didn’t bother wondering how this was possible—he’d seen plenty of crazies able to shrug off what should have been mortal wounds. Bringing his pistol around, he put a .40-caliber bullet into the man’s open maw. The hollowpoint round blew out the back of his skull, dropping him for good this time. But even in death, the thug didn’t let go, making Bolan pry his leg loose before resuming the pursuit of his quarry.

  However, the grab stopped Bolan enough for the other two to attack him, one of whom tried to grab him around the chest while the other one sat up and wrapped both arms around his knees.

  Bolan threw an elbow into the face of the one trying to hug him, snapping the man’s head back and loosening his grip. He felt teeth try to sink into his leg, gnawing on his fatigues as he shoved his pistol behind his back and shot the man three times in the abdomen. His first attacker shuddered and slipped down his body.

  Bolan looked down to see the last thug slobbering all over his knee as he tried to penetrate the poly/cotton weave. Grabbing one of the guy’s arms, the soldier unwound him from around his legs, then put a bullet into his forehead before heading toward the kitchen door.

  “Sitrep, Striker?” Tokaido asked. “What’s going on there?”

  “Apparently they grow them tougher here in Armenia,” Bolan replied. “Shooters don’t seem to know when they should lay down and die.”

  “Where’s the package?” Kurtzman chimed in.

  “I’m recollecting him right now.” Standing to one side of the kitchen door, Bolan pulled it open, waiting to see if Sevan would be crazy enough to attack him. When he didn’t, the soldier ducked inside, ending up next to a tall cabinet containing two industrial ovens, and swept the room with his pistol.

  The kitchen was a vision of stone and hardwood, with a huge, granite-topped island in the middle of the room. Bolan couldn’t see anyone from where he was, but that didn’t mean the room was empty. He stepped over to the end of the island, expecting to hear shots fired, but nothing broke the silence.

  The roar of a vehicle starting up outside turned his head and Bolan remembered that there was a door at the rear of the kitchen that led to a short hallway that connected the massive garage.

  “Akira, disable the SUV in the garage!” Running through the kitchen, he reached the door and opened it while standing to one side. Several gunshots rang out and a fusillade of bullets drilled into the wall opposite the door. Sticking his pistol around the corner, Bolan emptied the magazine, firing in an X pattern in hopes of hitting at least one of the shooters. When the enemy returned fire this time, it was only one weapon firing now.

  “Striker, I cannot access the vehicle’s electrical systems. Whatever he’s driving either doesn’t seem to have much electronics in it or is shielded like crazy,” Tokaido said. “If you want to stop him, you’re going to have to move fast.”

  “What do you think I’m trying to do?” Bolan ejected his magazine and reloaded, then crouched and fired several shots at waist level across the hallway. There was silence for a moment, then the thump of something heavy hitting the ground. Peeking around the corner, Bolan saw two slumped forms in the hallway. He edged through the door and slowly approached the bodies. When he was only a few feet away, one twitched. He put a round into its head and then did the same with the second one.

  The doorway to the garage was just beyond the limp forms, and Bolan kicked it open and came out with his pistol tracking for anything that moved. He was just in time to see a silver Range Rover surge from the garage into the early morning light. Bolan holstered his pistol and took off after it, but the SUV had too much of a head start—until it came to the gate. Slowing, it seemed as if Sevan was waiting for something, but the gate didn’t budge.

  “However, I can override the remote system to the outer security,” Tokaido said, satisfaction evident in his tone.

  Bolan was almost to the back of the vehicle when the engine revved and it shot toward the gate. “He’s not gonna do what I think—” was all Tokaido got out before the Range Rover rammed the main gate, smashing it completely off its track and sending the bent metal flying into the road.

  The impact slowed the SUV and Bolan was able to reach it as it began accelerating again. Grabbing the rear door handle, he pulled himself up onto the roof rack. The moment he got up there, he knew this wasn’t an ordinary vehicle. He could barely feel the vibration as it roared down the road. Oddly enough, the light crowd of pedestrians didn’t scatter out of the way, but seemed to be attracted to the loud, speeding vehicle.

  “Akira, this thing’s armored like a tank. I don’t know how I’m going to get inside,” Bolan said. The SUV slewed back and forth under him as Sevan tried to dislodge him.

  “I may be able to help with that,” Tokaido replied. “I couldn’t access the engine, however I’ve got the security system up and... I’ve just unlocked all the doors.”

  “That’s great.” Bolan held on with all his might as the Range Rover took a left turn at such a high speed he felt the right tires leave the ground for a moment. “Now I just need to get in without killing myself!”

  “Complain, complain, complain. Well, that’s your only shot. The windows are made from bulletproof glass so thick they don’t roll down.”

  “Great. All right, I’ll try it.” Wind whipping across his face, Bolan crawled to the passenger side of the vehicle and leaned down to try to hook the rear door latch with his hand. But as he did, the Rover jogged hard right. Although he was braced on the rack, it wasn’t enough and Bolan flew off the SUV.

  He slammed hard enough into the side of the vehicle to knock the wind out of him, but managed to hold on to the roof rack with his left hand. Gasping for
breath, Bolan struggled to climb back up, but felt hands grabbing at him from the street. They almost pulled him off, but lost their grip and fell away. Bolan glanced back to see what looked like a villager rolling in the street behind them.

  The SUV rocked on its wheels, swerving again, and Bolan saw another person—a woman in a simple peasant dress—try to jump onto the speeding vehicle, only to miss her grip and be flung back into the street. What the hell was going on here?

  He didn’t have any time to ponder that question, as the Range Rover started veering right again. Bolan looked ahead to see the side of a building that Sevan was aiming for, no doubt to scrape him off like a huge bug. They were about fifty meters away and closing fast.

  With not enough time to pull himself up, Bolan kicked a leg onto the hood and climbed onto the front of the vehicle just as Sevan careened into the side of the building, shearing away the side mirror and scraping metal for a few seconds before he steered away.

  He glared at Bolan from behind the wheel. The soldier glared back at him, then boosted himself onto the roof rack before Sevan got the bright idea of slamming on the brakes. He glanced around as they sped down the street, seeing more and more people out on the sidewalks and realized he had to stop this madman before he killed a lot of people.

  “That was a waste!” he shouted. “Isn’t there anything else you can do?”

  “Well, there is the rear door—” Tokaido began.

  “Pop it now!” Bolan shouted as he began crawling toward the rear of the vehicle. At he got there, the door opened and rose into the air. Grabbing the pneumatic cylinder that kept it held, Bolan swung down to pull himself inside.

  As he did, he was hit from behind by another townsperson, this one snarling and grunting as he clawed at Bolan’s chest and head. The added weight made Bolan’s left hand slip loose, and for a moment he and his attacker were both dangling by the rod. Reaching behind him with his free hand, Bolan raked his attacker across the eyes, making him howl in pain. He did it again, and the second time the person fell off, landing on the cobblestoned street and rolling along until he skidded to a stop.

  His arm trembling with the strain, Bolan hauled himself inside and reached for his pistol, only to find an empty holster—he’d lost it during the struggle with one of the villagers. Well, everything else about this had been hard, he thought as he started heading toward Sevan in the driver’s seat.

  “You are one tough American!” the Armenian said, pointing a pistol behind him and pulling the trigger. Bolan hit the deck as the bullet whined over him, then leaped forward, trying to get into the backseat before Sevan could shoot at him again. He was mostly successful; the second bullet plowing a furrow in his back as he fell over the leather seat. Bolan reached up and grabbed for the gun, struggling to wrestle it from Sevan’s grasp.

  The SUV pitched and yawed on the road as the two men fought. Bolan levered the gun toward the ceiling as Sevan pulled the trigger.

  “No!”

  His warning came too late. The bullet ricocheted off the armored ceiling and around the interior of the Range Rover. Getting his feet back under him, Bolan pushed hard on the pistol, smacking it into Sevan’s head and bouncing it off the driver’s window. The Armenian slumped over, hauling the steering wheel with him. Bolan grabbed for it, but he was too late again.

  With a screech of tires and metal, the SUV tipped up on its side and ponderously rolled over. Tossed around inside, Bolan had a fleeting sensation of sky, then ground, then nothing.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Jesus Christ!”

  William Scott, who had just stepped up next to Gary Alcaster, recoiled in shock. The Canadian med student also took an instinctive step backward as Anoush opened her mouth, still dripping with blood and scraps of flesh, and lunged at him.

  He’d moved just in the nick of time. The crazed woman fell off the bed and crashed to the floor.

  “Get out of there!” Scott shouted from the doorway. Spying the room key on the floor next to the nightstand, Alcaster grabbed it and ran for the door.

  “Close it! Close it! Close it!” he shouted the second he was in the hallway. Scott pulled the door closed just as Anoush slammed into the other side. There was a pause, then the door was yanked inward hard enough to almost pull Scott off his feet.

  “Help!”

  Alcaster turned and put one hand over his friend’s to hold the door closed while he attempted to lock it. Fumbling with the key in his sweaty hand, he nearly dropped it, but managed to insert it into the shaking keyhole. Twisting savagely, he felt the lock turn halfway, then stop. “It won’t lock!”

  “What the bloody hell!” Scott checked around the door and found the trouble—a blackening toe—Anoush’s—was crushed between the edge and the jamb. “When she pulls again, on three, we shove her away, then slam the door and lock it. Go when I say three, okay?”

  “Okay.” Alcaster unlocked the door again and tensed, straining to keep it closed while waiting for the signal.

  “One...two...three!” Just as she strained at the door again, both men let go. As Scott had planned, Anoush was caught off guard and staggered across the room, falling on the bed, while the door smacked against the wall and rebounded toward them. Even so, by the time Scott was reaching for the knob to close it, she was already getting up and about to come for them again.

  “Get it! Get it! Get it!” Alcaster shouted as Scott slammed the door firmly closed. The second he did, Alcaster turned the key, locking the door just as it trembled in its frame from the impact of Anoush’s body on the other side. The door shook from more blows, but held firm.

  “Holy shit...” Alcaster said as both men fell back from the door, watching it shake and tremble in its frame. “This is insane!”

  “Yeah, we gotta get the hell out of here!” Scott replied.

  “What? What about Josh?”

  “What do you mean? He’s fucking dead!” Scott said. “And if we don’t get out of this...this brothel of psychotic cannibal hookers, we’re gonna be next!” He looked around nervously and lowered his voice. “Which makes me wonder about where the rest of the people are.” They looked down the corridor at the rows of closed doors on either side. “After what we saw with Josh...”

  The Brit’s face paled as the realization of what they had just seen hit him. Without another word, he ran for the bathroom at the end of the hall, and Alcaster was soon treated to the sound of him puking his guts out. He kept a watch on the hallway while Scott finished up, and soon he returned, ashen-faced but steadier. “All I know is I’m not knocking on any of those doors.”

  Alcaster couldn’t argue with that logic. “Yeah, we need the police or the army, or whatever Armenia has, to get over here.”

  “Great idea! We need to call someone—anyone, for help!”

  “Right. First, let’s get out of the hallway. Come on, back to our room.” Alcaster led his friend back into his room and locked the door. Siranush was still asleep in the bed, breathing heavily.

  “You gotta be shittin’ me!” Scott stared at her as he pulled out his cell phone. “She slept through all that?”

  “Guess so,” Alcaster replied. “Probably exhausted.”

  Scott swiped his screen a few times with a shaking hand, then shook his head. “Got no coverage out here. How about you?”

  Alcaster rolled his eyes as he sat next to Siranush. “My phone barely works in London. No way will it function out here.”

  “Jesus, you’re calm. How come you aren’t, like, freaking out over all this?” Scott asked.

  “Probably ’cause I grew up on a big farm in Nova Scotia,” Gary replied. “I’ve seen dead things—even humans—before. Puked then, don’t need to now.”

  He gently shook the woman’s shoulder. “Siranush? Wake up. You have to get up now.”

  “What? Just a few more m
inutes...come back to bed...”

  “Believe me, there is nothing I’d like more at the moment, but we have to get up and go—”

  “Wha—what’s this ‘we’ business?” Scott asked. “You’re not taking her with us?”

  “Of course we are, and when we get down the stairs, you should find Lusine, too. I’m sure as hell not going to leave someone who isn’t affected by—whatever’s going on here to get infected, too.”

  Siranush was starting to come awake under Alcaster’s gentle but insistent shaking. “What? What is happening?”

  “Yeah, you’re right, sorry. I’m just not thinking right.” Scott slumped into the rickety wingback chair in the corner and rubbed a hand over his face. “Just—everything that’s happened, y’know?”

  “Yeah, this is— It’s all nuts.”

  Alcaster turned to face Siranush. “A lot of people seem to be sick here. You have to get dressed, and then we’re going to go to our car and leave town right away, okay?”

  “Sick...sick how?”

  “Sick in, like, they want to tear our faces off, that kind of sick,” Scott said.

  “Will, ease up, okay?” Alcaster said without looking at him. “But he’s right. They’re very aggressive and dangerous. Do you hear that?” They all fell silent, hearing the continued banging against the bedroom door down the hall. “That’s Anoush. She...she killed Josh—”

  Siranush’s blue eyes grew wide and her hands flew to her mouth. “No...”

  Alcaster nodded. “We—we saw his body...and she was covered in his blood. Will and I locked her in the room, and captured another woman who tried to attack me in the hallway.”

  “I don’t understand...”

  “That makes three of us,” Scott said from the chair. “But the sooner we get clear of the area, the better off we’ll be, not only in not getting attacked, but being able to get some help.”

  “Exactly, although we’re going to see if we can use a phone downstairs and call someone first,” Alcaster said. There were no phones in the individual rooms. If you wanted something, you went down to the bar or front desk and asked for it.