by Mark Tufo
The lieutenant gave a crooked grin. “Chicken barbecue. I like it.”
“Let’s just hope the fumes aren’t toxic.”
That wiped the smile from the lieutenant’s face. Antonelli gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder and said, “If you survive that, stand down and get some shut-eye.”
“Oh, right. I’m sure I’ll sleep just fine given what we’ve seen lately.”
“Right now, two dozen of our comrades are sleeping with bugs licking their bones.” They both glanced at the monitors, which showed only a few drifting shadows beneath the eerie aurora.
“Yes, sir.”
“How’s Huynh?”
“Doing better. Man, his leg was real messed up. PFC Kelly must have a magic touch.”
Antonelli wondered if Randall was hinting at a sly tease, but decided to let it go. “She does her job. Now, get on the horn.”
Randall saluted and began connecting the radio to the battery array. He thought about looking in on Colleen, but she was sharing a room with three other soldiers, finally getting some sleep. The move would’ve been far too obvious and they had to be careful now. Secret affairs and bunkers didn’t mix.
“Captain.”
Oh, great. Just what I needed.
He turned to find Franklin coming down the hall, his feet bare, his stained longhandle underwear doing little to restrain his sagging rolls of old-man blubber. The man would have been almost comical, a Doomsday Santa Claus, if not for the snarl on his cracked lips.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Franklin said. “Stephen told me about that shit. That’s not the deal.”
“New deal, Mr. Wheeler.”
“You fucking traitor. We hauled your ass out of a bloodbath and let you guys make yourselves at home, and then you turn into the very government assholes that I was afraid you’d be.”
“It’s not my call. I’m acting under the guidance of my superiors.”
“Fuck me, I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit. If there’s one thing you can count on no matter how many times the world ends, it’s that the government is gonna fucking government.”
Antonelli forced himself to be patient. He could have the man restrained, toss his rumpled old ass in there with that tiny mutant freak, and even order his execution, but right now the captain just wanted things to settle down so he could get a clear read on the situation. “This isn’t about us. This is about the fate of the world, Mr. Wheeler. That means doing things we don’t necessarily like. But we have to trust in the larger mission.”
“We’re not part of—”
Antonelli motioned toward the front entrance and the big, hostile, insurgent world beyond its steel door. “You have two people still out there, correct? You might want to think about them, and whose side you want to be on here. You might want them to fall under the protection and care of the New Pentagon. You might think about the two teenagers and the sentence for sedition in a time of war.”
“You wouldn’t.” But Franklin looked at the captain’s face and knew that he would.
“We’re winning this war by whatever means necessary.”
Franklin’s gray brow furrowed and his face looked as if he’d aged ten years in the space of those few sentences. He turned and slumped back to wherever he was holed up with the teenagers.
Antonelli walked down the hall, made sure the main entrance was secure and the guard alert, and then went to Huynh’s room.
The Vietnamese soldier was sitting up in bed, his rifle broken down in parts around him, an oily rag in his lap. He was riding the blade of his bayonet along the rough metal edge of the bed frame, sharpening it.
Sniiffft sniiiffft sniiiffft.
He started to stand when Antonelli entered, but the captain motioned him to stay down.
“PFC Kelly told you to rest,” Antonelli said.
“I rest before. Now I finished.”
“Do you know how badly you were hurt? Do you remember anything?”
“Bird,” the man said. In the muted light of the room’s small overhead bulb, his skin looked sallow.
Not surprising, since he was dead not three hours ago.
“Yes, bird,” Antonelli said. He pressed his wrist to the man’s forehead, and the skin was cool. “No fever.”
“Ready for duty, sir.”
That was one phrase the man had memorized, drilled into him during New Pentagon’s basic training. HQ expected to defeat an advanced mutant civilization with a makeshift pack of volunteers who were former store clerks, school teachers, and short-order cooks.
“You’ll get your chance. We’re moving out in two days. Will you be able to walk?”
The man’s face creased in eagerness. “I walk. Make war on Zap.”
“That’s right, Private. Make the hell out of war on Zap.”
The captain and Colleen had wrapped a large, bulky bandage around Huynh’s leg, even though the wound had nearly closed. The white cotton even featured a few splotches of dried blood for authenticity. As far as the other soldiers would know, Huynh had really not been injured all that badly, Kelly had a magic touch, and Huynh was toughing it out for the greater glory of Earth Zero and the human race.
An inspiration to them all.
Antonelli inspected the rifle parts and saw they were polished to a prideful luster. This soldier was dedicated.
“Very well, then,” the captain said in parting. “Carry on.”
As the officer left, Huynh returned to sliding the bayonet blade across the bed frame, metal on metal, edge on edge.
Sniiiffft sniiiffft sniiiffft.
“Ready for duty, sir,” he whispered, a tiny gleam in his eye.
* * *
THE END
About the Author
Scott Nicholson
Thanks for reading Afterburn. If you enjoyed it, please write a brief review at Amazon to help other readers find books they like.
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About the Author:
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Scott Nicholson is the international bestselling author of more than 20 thrillers, including The Home, McFall, Disintegration, Liquid Fear, Speed Dating with the Dead, and the After post-apocalyptic series. His books have appeared in the Kindle Top 100 more than a dozen times in five different countries. Visit his website at www.AuthorScottNicholson.com or his Amazon Author Central page
Sign up for his Tao of Boo newsletter for giveaways and release news.
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Thanks to Sharon Stogner of Devil in the Details Editing and proofreaders Frank Pero, Carole McLaughlin, and Meghan Gurley, and technical advisor Steve Lowe, SSRG (R).
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VIEW OTHER KINDLE BOOKS BY SCOTT Nicholson:
Look for the second book in the Next post-apocalyptic thriller series
* * *
EARTH ZERO
* * *
As the remnants of the human race mobilize for an attack on the mutants who have taken over the abandoned cities, a small band of survivors are caught in the middle of the conflict.
Rachel Wheeler’s own mutant abilities could make her a valuable resource for the new government and the army it has formed in the wake of the apocalypse. But the people who want to take back the world have a ruthless vision for the future, and a toxic planet is unleashing its rage in the form of deadly predators. Meanwhile, the mutants are evolving at an astonishing rate and establishing a social order that defies human control. When her group is drawn into the ultimate war, Rachel must decide whether to stay loyal to the ones she loves or fight for ideals she doesn’t fully embrace.
The top of the food chain is at stake, and the extinction of the human race may not be the worst possible outcome.
* * *
See it on Amazon US or Amazon UK
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See how the apocalypse started!
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Get After: The Sh
ock free for Kindle.
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AFTER: THE SHOCK
* * *
A massive solar storm erases the world's technological infrastructure and kills billions. While the remaining humans are struggling to adapt and survive, they notice that some among them have...changed.
Rachel Wheeler finds herself alone in the city, where violent survivors known as "Zapheads" roam the streets, killing and destroying. Her only hope is to reach the mountains, where her grandfather, a legendary survivalist, established a compound in preparation for Doomsday.
Other survivors are fleeing the city, but Zapheads aren't the only danger. Rogue bands of military soldiers want to impose their own order in the crumbling ruins of civilization. When Rachel discovers a 10-year-old boy, she vows to care for him even at the risk of her own life.
And the Zapheads are evolving, developing communal skills even as they lay waste to the society they will eventually replace.
* * *
After #0: First Light
After #1: The Shock
After #2: The Echo
After #3: Milepost 291
After#4: Whiteout
After #5: Red Scare
After #6: Dying Light
* * *
:
The Death Of Kayliss By Jaime Johnesee
“You can’t have ‘em, Kayliss, they’re mine!” The boy, no more than ten and scrawny as a broom-pole, scurried backward until his back hit the outside wall of the church. He shoved the donuts in question into his mouth, one after the other. It was the only way he could keep them.
When one of her men tried to grab him, the boy ran to the side of the building to enjoy his treats unimpeded.
It’d been some time since he’d had a donut and he savored them as much as he could. They were supposed to last a couple days. The arrival of the Scavengers meant those last few morsels of normalcy were as good as gone.
They followed him to the side of the church and, in an act of defiance, he shoveled the last donut into his mouth whole and began to chew.
“You stupid piglet. Choke on your greed.” Her foot lashed forward, striking his chest and shoving him backwards.
He fell to the ground, near the sign proclaiming God is Good, with his mouthful of food now blocking the air from his lungs. Determined not to waste any of the fried delights, he spit them into his hand, coughed up the bit he’d inhaled, added it to the goo in his palm, shoved it back in his mouth, and swallowed it all before turning a wary eye toward his abuser.
“Where did you find them?” She swung her right leg over the back of her horse, slipping from her saddle and dropping to the ground. She stalked to the boy, removing her gloves as she moved.
“Coffee shop.” He eyed her with equal measure fear, disgust, and anger.
“Which coffee shop?” She placed her booted foot heavily upon the boy’s ankle.
“The one with the orange globe on the sign.” Fear won out as he answered her questions, afraid of what she had planned for his ankle.
“Were there more?”
“Yes, there was a lot more.” A lightning fast smirk ratted him out.
“Any still edible?” Her tone had taken on a hiss and she was in his face, leaning her weight onto his ankle.
“Maybe, a few, I guess. Stop, that hurts.”
“Well, it’s not meant to feel good. In order to feel good you have to be good; do you understand?” Her foot pushed harder on the bones, a crunch brought forth a whimper from the child.
“Yeah.” His face was white with pain and fear.
She smiled coldly at him. “Good.” Turning to two of her oafs she barked orders, “Get to that shop, find any food they have, and bring it all back.”
“Yes’m.” They hurried off, bumping into each other on the way through the alley.
“Now, what to do with you, Scrum?” She took her foot off his ankle, pulled out a pocket knife and began cleaning under her nails.
“I didn’t do nothing wrong!” The boy’s filthy face wrinkled in anger, his hands clasped his injured ankle and he stared daggers at the scavenger.
The boy scooched backward toward the door of the church.
“You found food and didn’t share with your clan, boy-o. That’s serious treason.” She stalked him, using the knife point as emphasis as she spoke, smiling at him the way a cat grins at a canary.
“You’re not my clan. You’re filthy scavengers, nothing more.” He pushed past her two goons and through the door and ran straight to the pulpit.
“Oh, ho, look at the little street rat. He’s got some bite.”
Scrum hissed at her, “It’s easy when your teeth ain’t rotted out of your head.”
“Derby! Come take care of this little rat. I’ve got other things to do.” Kayliss spit at the boy, turned, and walked out of the church when did she go into the church through the rear doors leaving Scrum to his fate at the hands of the giant beast, Derby.
It wasn’t going well for him.
Currently, he was trapped by his tee shirt. It was clenched in the man’s beefy fist, leaving him dangling a few inches above the ground. A well-placed kick turned things around slightly as the punt to his family jewels had Derby letting go of Scrum’s shirt and cradling his balls whilst evacuating his stomach.
“Ha! There’s more where that came from you creatine!”
“You mean cretin.” They turned to look at the door where a willowy woman leaned against the front doorframe, puffing on a cigar.
“Huh?” Scrum asked, confusion wrinkling his face.
“Creatine is an amino acid, a cretin is a moron.”
“So?” The boy kept his eye on Derby.
The mountain of a man was on his knees, flecks of vomit speckled his shoes and pants, and he was looking at Scrum with a murderous rage that made his desire to tear him apart evident.
“He will never make that or any other mistake ever again.” Derby moved for the boy but the woman was faster.
She put the boy behind her, cocked her hip, and dropped her hand down to her holster.
“You will not harm this child while I’m around, understand?” She stared Derby in the eyes until the man looked away.
“You explain it to her why he’s not dead, then. If I see you alone, Scrum, I will kill you.” His face showed not even the slightest trace of jest.
“I will. Nice to see you again too, Derby. Good dog.”
“Fuck off, Sasha.” He turned and snarled at the boy before he left, “Your insult will not go unanswered, cockroach, count on it.”
“Hey! Next time you leave, put some more flounce in it,” Sasha called after him.
“I guess you want me to thank ya.” Scrum narrowed his eyes, waiting for the grift to start. “People don’t do nothing for nobody without getting something in return. So, what’cha want?”
Though he was still young, Scrum had seen enough to have become slightly jaded. The woman recognized this in him because it was something she saw in herself. Desperate to give the boy a sense of right and wrong, she’d stepped in.
“I want to know where you really got the donuts.” She grinned at him. It was kindly, there was no trace of threat to it.
“And if I don’t tell you?” His eyes were narrowed so far in distrust that he looked like he was facing the sun.
“Well, then I guess I don’t get any donuts. But, if you do tell me, you’ll get more of your own; and I’ll protect you from Kayliss and her goons.”
“You ain’t gonna threaten to kill me?”
“What purpose would killing you serve? It surely won’t get me donuts.” She took the Stetson off her head and ran a hand through dirty blonde hair.
“Who are you? Derby called you Sasha, so, I don’t mean just your name; what are you here for?” He stuck his chin up, determined to get the truth from her.
“I am Kayliss’ sister. When our parents died, I left. Only came back now because I was told our brother passed away.” She puffed on the cigar and locked eyes with
the boy.
“Sorry for your loss. Pete was a good man.”
“Everyone keeps saying that! You all think I don’t know that?”
He recoiled at her vehemence. “I guess folks just try to differentiate him from her. Sorry.”
She blinked and her features softened, “No, I’m sorry. My brother’s death has been hard on me. Harder since our folks had passed too. I expect this is the last time I’ll ever see my sister. Been told she’s been doing far worse than threatening kids like you. Ain’t planning on allowing someone sharing my name to get away with such horrors.”
As she spoke passionately, Scrum watched to see what her angle was. Everyone had an angle. He’d also learned that at a young age.
“I figured it was my duty to stop her and so I will.” She smoothed her hair back from her forehead and returned her hat to its perch before walking over to the boy.
“I got them from the supermarket on Main. Someone’s been living in there.”
“I thought that was on a daily sweep?”
“It is but the squads miss it from time to time because it is so bizarrely laid out that it takes forever to clear. They’re lazy, so they pretty much just walk in and listen for a few minutes and move on.”
“How can they afford to leave food unguarded? And how is it you know this?”
“Most people think they took it all away. But they didn’t have anywhere to take it to so they left it there. I know all this ‘cos lots of things go on around here and I pay attention. It can save your life. My dad used to say that, during the war….” The boy choked up and broke off.
“I’m sorry, kid. I wish I had some words of wisdom but I don’t. Life sucks. It shits on all of us at one point or another. The key is in the way you handle the shit it tosses at you.”
