The Battle - The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: No Sanctuary Series - Book 6

by Mike Kraus

  With his doctoral degree in hand and a swirling mass of new ideas and information fresh in his head, he completes his move back to Iran within days of graduation. Four years of keeping to himself, forgoing a social life and turning down any attempts at friendship with other students mean that he has no ties to cut, and integrating back into life in his home country is painless and simple. He spends a few days at home with grandparents and other extended relatives before he is contacted by the same two men who spoke with him four years prior. They thank him for his hard work and tell him that he has a job that he can start as soon as he is ready. He leaves for Tehran the next morning, promising his grandparents that he will call as often as he can, though he knows that is a lie.

  On the military campus he is introduced to his new colleagues, all of whom are eager to hear about his theories and research projects. As he is introduced to his new work, he begins to realize that his position will afford him more than just the opportunity to protect his country. His desire for revenge has smoldered for years, and he has resisted fanning the flames until being in a position where he can effect some real change.

  In his new position, with the resources and mandate he has been given, he realizes that—for the first time—he doesn’t care about his country at all. The only thing he wants is revenge. And he will take it, no matter the cost.

  Chapter 7

  When Linda’s pistol ran dry she tossed it aside, pulled her rifle back up off of her shoulder and ejected the magazine. She was just about to pop in a fresh one and continue her assault on the men when a shadow loomed from behind and she felt the force of hard wood and metal slam against her lower back. She cried out in pain as she toppled forward, dropping the new magazine to the ground. The rifle clattered down as well, spinning as it slid a few feet away before coming to rest. She reached for it but another blow landed on her upper back, sending her to her hands and knees. She reached for the knife on her chest and pulled it out, then twisted and lunged at the figure she sensed behind. Her reactions were slowed, though, and the knife passed harmlessly through the air before a gloved hand grabbed her arm, twisting it sharply so that she dropped the knife in pain.

  A boot rammed into her back, forcing her to the ground and another hand grabbed her other arm, wrenching it behind her where a large zip tie was quickly applied to her wrists. Whoever bound her made the tie exceptionally tight, and even through her hazed pain she could already feel her fingertips begin to tingle.

  “Get…off of me…assholes!” Linda grunted and tried to roll over, to kick and lash out at her attackers, but two other figures accompanied the first, holding her tightly as they picked her up. They remained silent as they brought her inside the building that she and Frank had briefly entered, then threw her down on the floor in the room with the large table. She groaned in pain and rolled over on her back again before slowly pushing herself into a sitting position just as the doors to the room slammed shut.

  “Linda Rollins. Shey’taan herself, in the flesh.” The voice was smug, full of pride, and located somewhere close. She squinted, trying to clear her blurred vision. A figure standing at the far side of the table from her swirled into view, and though he knew her name, she didn’t recognize him.

  “Who the hell are you?” Spittle flew from her lips as she spoke, mustering up all the courage and outrage she could. “One of Omar’s dogs?”

  The insult intended to provoke the man had no effect, and he merely smiled as he watched her struggling on the floor. “He will be most pleased to see you. Plucking the thorn from his side after it has irritated him for so many years will, I imagine, be an enormous pleasure.

  “Bite me.” Linda snarled at him and he gave her a thin smile.

  “By the way, your associate—the one following you around—we killed him.”

  Linda’s heart jumped, though she kept her expression sour. “Liar.”

  The man stood up and raised his hands. “It’s true. He took a bullet in the back. They’re dragging his corpse back now, I’d imagine. Such a pity, for your friend to die like that. Running like a coward.”

  “What do you want from me? Shouldn’t you be calling your master and letting him know I’m here?” Linda ignored what he was saying about Frank, though her certainty that he was lying was lessening as she wondered whether they really had managed to gun Frank down.

  “Your defiance is admirable, shey’taan. He is already on his way.” The man stepped close to her and she kicked out at him but missed by a hair. He laughed and kicked back at her, savagely, his steel-toed boot crunching into her chest. She felt a burst of pain as multiple ribs fractured and she gasped for air, each breath full of agony. “You should calm down,” he hissed at her, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to her feet, “or else you’ll be in multiple pieces when he does arrive.”

  ***

  Linda lost track of how long she was lying on the floor of the closet. Her breaths were shallow and she tried to keep her arm off of her left side, but with her hands still bound behind her back the extra pressure on her chest made the pain in her ribs nearly unbearable. The room was dark, with the only light coming from a crack beneath the door. As she drifted back and forth between consciousness and not she heard muted voices and footsteps from various parts of the building around her. None of what she heard was clear enough to completely understand so she gave up trying and focused on staying alive.

  Breathe in. She winced.

  Breathe out. She ground her teeth to keep from groaning.

  Breathe in. Stars flashed across her vision.

  Breathe out. She tasted blood in her mouth from nicking the side of her tongue as she clamped down with her teeth again.

  Minutes and hours blurred together until the footsteps and voices that had been muffled began to grow louder. Shadows passed in front of the light beneath the door and the voices grew soft as a conversation of some sort was held outside the closet. She squinted her eyes, preparing for the door to open, which it did a moment later. She squeezed her eyes shut as a blinding light was thrust into her face and a rough hand turned her head this way and that. Linda kicked out, sending shock waves of pain through her chest, but her leg was stopped before it could connect, held in place by a powerful hand.

  “Shey’taan.” The voice was smooth and deep, with an oiled tone of sophistication and deadliness. She recognized it at once and felt her heart quicken. She opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the light. Her worst enemy squatted over her, her hand in one hand and her leg in his other. He smiled at her look of recognition, flashing perfectly straight, white teeth against his olive skin.

  “So you’re really, finally here.” His chuckle was genuine, as if he found her presence legitimately amusing. She said nothing in return and he nodded at her before glancing back over his shoulder at the cluster of men behind him. “Take her upstairs.” He turned back and smiled at her again. “We have much to discuss.”

  ***

  “I heard about your parents, out in Tennessee. Such a tragedy.” The voice came from somewhere behind Linda, still soft and smooth as it had been two hours prior when she was dragged from the closet. Her head sagged down to her chest and her breath came in ragged gasps as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth down her chin and onto her right pants leg.

  The pain from her fractured ribs no longer bothered her, as it had been overshadowed by what Omar had done to her over the two-hour period. His voice had remained calm and steady as he moved from tool to tool, beating her across her whole body, twisting her extremities into painful knots but never crossing the line of breaking anything more than her already fractured ribs. She felt as though everything was broken, though, and wondered when he would tire of playing with her and simply end it.

  “Freezing to death is a terrible way to go, isn’t it?” Omar walked around her, a small baggie of ice held against the knuckles of his right hand. “Especially when you know you’re trapped in a nursing home, knowing you’re too weak to escape, having to figure out
how to cope with your imminent death.”

  “Screw. You.” The words were quiet, but defiant. She wanted to break her bonds, to leap from her chair and slam Omar against the wall, push him down and throttle his throat with her bare hands.

  “Come now, shey’taan.” He tossed the baggie onto a nearby table and massaged his hand, the knuckles red and raw. “Aren’t you curious about how I know about your parents?”

  “Mole. I assume.”

  Omar walked by her again and she braced herself for the blow she knew would come. A second later it did, into her right side through the gap under the arm in the chair. She spasmed and coughed, spitting more blood out onto her pants and the floor.

  “Moles, actually. Plural. More than one. You can’t pull off something like this with just one source.” Another blow, with something more solid than a fist, this time to her right shoulder. “I’ve been watching your family for quite a long time, you know. You were harder to track down, but I picked up enough bits and pieces of your trail to make sure you were always a few steps behind me.”

  “Why.”

  “Why what?” Omar circled around to the front and crouched down just outside of spitting range. “Why do all of what I did? Or why keep you here, alive, for as long as possible?”

  Linda raised her head slightly, meeting his gaze. Her eyes were bloodshot and she could barely keep her eyelids open. Each and every breath and word were pure pain. “Why. Alive.”

  “You’ve haunted me,” another punch, “for so long,” another kick, “so I’m going to keep you alive long enough to give you a taste of what I’ve had to endure.” Omar’s smooth voice wavered ever so slightly as he kicked at the side of her chair, knocking her over onto the floor. Linda couldn’t do anything except lay still and wait for his next attack. Instead, though, he waved to one of the other men lurking in the corner of the room who quickly ran over, picked her and the chair back up and then returned to his place.

  “Now,” Omar intoned, walking over to a nearby table on which Linda’s sparse assortment of possessions had been strewn, “can you tell me why you were so underprepared when my men brought you in? You had a single spare magazine for your pistol, a few for your rifle, some odds and ends in your vest pouches and not much else.”

  Linda’s eyes flicked over to the table, roving over the belongings there until she caught sight of the small tracking device mixed in with the rest of the odds and ends. She was surprised that Omar hadn’t noticed or thrown out the device, then she realized that he likely had no idea how significant the small piece of metal was. This suspicion was confirmed when she watched him pick up the device along with her flashlight, knife and multitool and slip them all into his pockets.

  “Guess I was… packing light.” She forced a crooked smile as a few more drops of blood fell from the edge of her mouth to her pants leg.

  “And what of your friend, Frank Richards? My men tell me he ran down the street, leaving you alone to defend yourself. I didn’t realize he was such a coward after everything you two had been through.”

  “He got… scared.” Another wave of pain shot through her body and she shivered involuntarily.

  “Hm. Somehow I doubt that. In spite of his relatively uninteresting past, his actions alongside you seem to indicate that he is more likely to be running for help than running away.”

  Linda started to raise her head, but stopped and let it hang against her chest. Her mind, however, was racing. One of the men who had bound her earlier had told her that Frank was dead, shot in the back. But Omar’s account was different, telling her that Frank had apparently escaped. She thought for a few seconds and decided to feel Omar out. “Then he’ll be back. With reinforcements.”

  Omar chuckled and shook his head, and Linda wondered if he was about to come over and begin the torture anew. “Oh, I’m afraid not. We’ve added several security measures since your arrival. Anyone attempting to assault us here will fail, and, it doesn’t really matter either way. My forces are converging on your city and the deactivation codes will be mine before the day is out.”

  Linda couldn’t help but smile ever so slightly,

  Omar leaned in close to Linda, grabbing her roughly by the chin and pulling her head up to force her to meet his gaze. “Your attempt was noble, but in the end it failed as miserably as your other attempts over the years. You came close, but couldn’t seal the deal.” He let her head fall as he walked back to the table, taking her pistol in hand and gently seating in a new magazine. He aimed the pistol at her stomach, his fingers slowly tightening around the grip. “But, as much fun as this has been, I think you’ve just about served your usefulness in venting my frustrations.”

  As Omar walked closer to Linda, she put all of her remaining energy into one last defiant gesture. Bracing her legs and rocking herself forward, she tipped the chair up and swung her head upward, smashing her skull into the bottom of Omar’s chin. There wasn’t much force beyond the maneuver, but she could hear his teeth rattling together and his cry of pain as he shuffled back, letting her topple over to the floor with her arms and legs still bound to the chair. He aimed the pistol at her head, wiping a streak of red off of his bloodied lip and gave her a cruel smile before lowering the weapon.

  “On second thought, perhaps I’ve not completely finished venting all of my frustrations.”

  ***

  “You sure nobody saw us?”

  “I’m pretty sure they’d be jumping down our throats right now if they had. Now c’mon, just two more blocks to go.”

  “You sure you want to do this?”

  “Absolutely. You try to put me at the back and I’ll shoot through you.”

  “Ha. I’ll bet. Just stay to the side if it gets bad.”

  “No promises.”

  “I hope to hell she’s still alive in there.”

  “You and me both. You and me both.”

  ***

  While Linda had managed to buy herself a temporary reprieve from death, she wasn’t sure if it had been worth the price she was paying. Omar had rolled up his sleeves and gone to work on her, no longer concerned with making sure she survived to the end of the session. Black leather gloves adorned his hands to protect his already raw knuckles, and they were quickly becoming slicked with her blood. His face contorted with every blow, his mouth twisting into shapes of anger and hatred all mixed with pleasure and joy. His intent was no longer to seek mere revenge—he intended to beat her to death. Linda withstood the blows as much as possible, and even though he avoided hitting her in the head to avoid her blacking out earlier than she otherwise might, she felt as though she was going to pass out at any second.

  A sudden bang from the floor below stopped Omar mid-blow and he turned to look at one of the men standing off to the side. “What was that?” His voice was ragged and he breathed heavily from the exertion he was putting out. Another bang turned into a muffled explosion and Omar turned to look at Linda. Her eyes were open and she forced the edges of her lips up into the slightest of smiles as she whispered. “Told you… he’d… come back.” Omar’s confident expression wavered as he glanced between Linda and his men, trying to cope with the idea that a situation had sprung up that wasn’t entirely within his control.

  ***

  Six figures stood tensed outside the entrance to the office building, weapons held at the ready position and their eyes roving over the windows and doorway, looking for any emergent threats. “Three. Two. One. Go.” The countdown and command were whispered, but what followed was anything but quiet.

  The door to the building burst open under the weight of the portable battering ram, the wood and metal splintering and twisting with just a single blow. The bang of the doors flying open and rattling against the interior walls echoed through the halls of the building. As soon as the doors opened the two figures holding the battering ram dropped it and stepped back, allowing the two men behind them to step forward. They dashed inside the building, their weapons held loosely in one hand as they each cr
adled a small metallic object. They threw the objects into the two rooms just off of the entry hall to the building and dashed back out to the front steps. A few seconds later, amid the surprised shouts and callouts from those inside the building, a pair of loud bangs and flashes of light went off.

  “GO!” Jackson’s voice was loud as he bellowed out the command, no longer bothering with any pretense of stealth. Four men dressed in black and dark olive green charged past Jackson and Frank, dividing into two teams and entering the rooms that had been flash banged. Bursts of gunfire erupted as Jackson and Frank passed by the rooms, heading for the stairs at the back of the hall.

  Jackson took the lead as he and Frank headed upstairs, checking each corner and potential blind spot as they went along. Frank tried to imitate Jackson’s movements as much as possible, though he knew full well that in a true firefight he would be just slightly more than useless.

  “First floor clear.” A staticky voice came through Frank and Jackson’s earpieces. “No sign of her. Sanders was hit but still alive.”

  “Copy. Move up ASAP. Out.” Jackson whispered back, his reply coming through loud on the radios thanks to his throat mic. “Richards,” he continued as he glanced over at Frank, “watch right. I’ve got left. Shoot anything that moves unless it’s her.”

  Frank nodded and shifted his attention from the hall in the center of the room to the right-hand side, depending on Jackson to cover his back. They moved lockstep with each other, peeking around the corner of each room before dipping inside, scanning the corners with their rifle lights and then dipping back out into the hall. It took less than thirty seconds of slow, stealthy movements for them to near the end of the hall, at which point Frank ducked into the next room and nearly dropped his rifle in shock.