Only The Saints (Lost Survival Series Book 2)

by David Tyne

  Copyright © 2016, by David Tyne. All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons or entities, living or dead, is completely coincidental. This work may not be reproduced or distributed without the author’s explicitly-written consent.

  Only The Saints

  Table Of Contents

  1 | Achromatic Days

  2 | Wheel

  3 | Midnight Ride

  4 | I’m Selfish

  5 | Delay

  6 | Critical Diversion

  7 | Cornered

  8 | The Red Base

  9 | Brother Sergius

  10 | Puppet Master

  11 | A New Breed

  12 | Keeping Busy

  13 | Troublemaker

  14 | Indebted

  15 | What You Had To Do

  16 | The Deep-Sea Ball

  17 | From Above

  18 | Boxed-In Prey

  19 | The Old Switcheroo

  20 | Blood Rights

  21 | I’m Not A Bad Guy

  22 | Last Dance

  23 | The Suicide Mission

  24 | Running Errands

  25 | Set Them Free

  26 | Got The T-Shirt

  27 | Deathmatch

  28 | The Musician’s Contract

  29 | Something To Fight For

  30 | Bon Voyage

  31 | I Never

  32 | Delirium

  33 | Pre-emptive Strike

  34 | Nephilim

  35 | The Raid

  36 | Transmission

  ?? | Dying To Meet You

  Author’s Note

  1 | Achromatic Days

  “Danderhall operative, please respond. Over.”

  The faceless black hoodie kept the stolen radio tucked away, muted as the grill crackled with static. He couldn’t let himself be compromised. If his surrounding enemies overheard a single word, the past week would have been for nothing.

  All he could do was listen, for now.

  “I repeat, come in, Danderhall. What is your capacity? Over.”

  A tense sigh played over the other side, followed by the shuffling of papers. Wherever the caller was located, it was far removed from the anarchy of the city streets.

  “One last time, Burkley. Do you have the human cargo, or not?! Over!”

  ----

  The initial shock was over.

  We had all adjusted to our dark fate, accepted the impossible as reality. The Lost, the reanimated dead... They owned the streets outside, keeping us penned like cattle inside Danderhall’s last community centre. For how much longer, no one wanted to guess.

  You could tell exactly what they were all thinking, the sick and the elderly, just by the weight on their sullen silences. A few had already seen the darkness of humanity, long ago in their faded lifetimes; even with the worst behind them, most would never be the same again.

  The only comfort I’d known since it all began, was the sole weakness behind the epidemic. The disease was viral, capable of bonding with and bypassing my blood type, O-Negative. This should have given me peace of mind, but more than anything, it created a lot of resentment between myself and the rest of the inhabitants.

  I learned this fact from a member of my group, Serah; a medical student who helped me recover from the tragedy that occurred last week. My friend Ian couldn’t take the pressure of living like this, in a world full of hatred and constant suffering. He took his own life, and not one of us could do a thing to stop him.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, many of us were still badly wounded from the policeman’s unexplained betrayal. Allying himself with a group of religious fanatics, SP. Burkley’s motive for taking us all hostage was unclear; whatever he and Pastor Mitchell planned to do next, it couldn’t be good for anyone.

  Ten days had passed since then, and we’d finally managed to clear out the bodies of those who weren’t so lucky. The outside fence was repaired, the doors were sealed, and most importantly, the self-proclaimed ‘O-Saints’ were nowhere to be found.

  We lived there as the wounds in our hearts healed, together. I missed Ian and Harry, still regretting my actions that day as time ticked on. No one had seen the thug since his meltdown, which was probably for the best.

  Beth was heartbroken at first, but she soon peeled back into her usual chipper self. Just like when her parents died. With every death, she grew numb to the suffering of those around her, that innocent light in her eyes dimming with the weight of each sin.

  I never told her how Ian really died, trying to uphold her memory of him... Eventually I couldn't keep it to myself any longer, and with Harry gone, Millie was the only one I could talk to.

  Despite the cold tension between us, she still stuck around with our broken group. Whenever we did talk, it was always about something shallow like resources or security. We didn't connect like we used to, and it felt like another relationship of mine was dying.

  It had been days since I'd seen a Lost, mostly because I was too apathetic to look outside. I sat inside my own bubble of a daydream, stuck in my mum's medical corner which was set up for the community centre’s residents. Not that it did them any good, with around half of them already dead.

  While I stewed in peace, the twenty or so people that actually survived the assault chattered amongst themselves, sharing food and checking up on each other. To be honest, their predictability was starting to make me feel a little bored.

  I hated having nothing to do; it was much more exciting when Beth, Ian and I were dashing around. Being chased by armoured vans and Lost, escaping from bloody cultists, every minute was another adventure.

  At the time it was absolute hell, but looking back, it was better than sitting around like a depressive lump. I decided to spice things up for the day by heading outside, perhaps to make sure that the rickety fence was holding steady.

  Walking alone through the lobby, I opened the giant double-doors and breathed in the deathly suburban air. The community centre, even after having all the bodies cleared out, still carried a sickly hospital-like tang to it.

  The exterior was the same as ever — we managed to put down a large portion of the Lost inhabiting this area, after they broke in last time. Their numbers would be low for at least a bit longer, giving us a break from the cull.

  Only two or three of the deceased clung onto the fence, their faces rigid as though they'd died just yesterday. I decided to leave them, doubting my own ability to handle such simple tasks in my current state.

  A strange whirring noise shook the area, and two jet-black helicopters shot across the dull-grey sky overhead. They stopped in place for short intervals of time, poking around before inching forwards slightly. Similar aircrafts had occupied our ruined backdrop for the past two weeks. In all that time, I had never seen one touch the ground at all.

  "They're not military, you know."

  Serah’s voice seemed to smile politely, the blurry shape of her short-brown hair blending into my side. She had abandoned the lab clothes she raided from the Medical School, and was wearing a normal fleece with a pink shirt and dark-blue jeans.

  It took some getting used to, seeing her out of uniform and in her ordinary clothes. My dark eyes panned back to the distant scenery, still vaguely cautious.

  "What do you think they are, then? They haven't landed anywhere once, so we know they aren't evacuating anyone. They haven't dropped any 'care packages', either. They just... watch."

  Serah looked thoughtfully at the sky, showing that even her ingenuity was stumped. "Anything would just be an assumption. Judging from the last radio broadcast, we can rule out any other nations sending in support. Every country’s tr
ying to isolate itself, and even that's not going to last long. The world's... truly over."

  She fixed her glasses to her nose, tilting them upwards as she stared into the distance. Perhaps she wanted to pretend for a moment, that it was the same old city over there. I attempted to follow her gaze, and then it caught my eye.

  "W-What the hell...?!" Serah jumped down to her feet, noticing the same thing. Without thinking, I ducked into the admin office and pulled Ian's old cricket bat from the possession box. Serah unbolted the gate, waiting for me before slamming it shut again.

  We ran straight towards the strange object, wobbling in the middle of the road; as we got closer, it appeared to be something of human origin. Who would do something like this?!

  Twelve Lost had been bound together, still ‘alive’ and agitated by their impaling wounds. Stabbed clear through each one’s heart, a bunch of sharpened poles formed a large spoked wheel, much like a bicycle. It was as though someone had disassembled a merry-go-round, only to recreate their own murderous version.

  There was some kind of crudely-painted placard in the middle, but I could barely see from all the writhing body parts. We'd have to remove the corpses if we wanted any chance of reading it. Some twisted fuck was playing postman, delivering a message by using the shambling patterns of the dead.

  The encircled Lost hadn't seen us yet, but if even one of them tried to run in our direction, the rest would follow. I wasn’t concerned about them, more worried about the razor-sharp poles sticking out from their chests.

  Pulling out the two separate scalpels she'd kept on her person for emergencies, Serah's face straightened to one of complete calculation.

  "Hope you aren’t too rusty. This one might take a while."

  2 | Wheel

  Swing after swing, I could barely reach my target — impaled half-way between the centre and the spiked edge, the Lost moved even more recklessly when skewered together. I had to dive underneath, just to avoid the flailing spears that almost ran me through.

  "This... isn't working!" I shouted to the other side, where Serah was getting up-close and personal with the wheel's inhabitants.

  "Hah, speak for yourself!" She climbed on top of the spokes, balancing between them as she slammed her heels into one of the biting heads. Half of the circle collapsed to the ground, and she managed to dispatch each Lost with a flurry of scalpel slashes. I was put to shame by her gymnastic skills, realising that I’d been out of the killing game for too long.

  I crawled over the limb bodies, hoping to at least bring down the centremost pole so that we couldn’t get stabbed. With my cricket bat, I managed to deck one of the sturdiest Lost — the force of his descent tore the poor man in two, split along his support pole.

  The wheel fell apart, with no infected left to hold it up. Looking at the structure as a whole, I was impressed at how efficiently we'd managed to shut it down. I couldn’t take much of the credit, but we’d certainly come a long way since the initial outbreak.

  After crawling to safety, I held out my hand as Serah grabbed ahold, navigating downwards from the wheel of death. She nodded towards the placard, having seen the curious message. "It's... for you."

  Confused, I started to move closer. That was, until I heard someone shrieking my name from the distance. Millie came running out from the community centre’s gate, probably hearing the commotion outside.

  "What... is that?! Who would do something so cruel?"

  Unfortunately, I was barely listening to her. The placard contained a message, directly for me — only one other person was named. The venue for the invitation was infinitely more morbid.

  Daniel Walker and Millie Muldrock,

  You have been summoned

  To the place where he rests in peace.

  Tell no one, or they will be killed.

  -Sergius

  The message seemed more like a taunt than a wish of peace. I assumed that they wanted to meet at Ian's grave. On the back of the placard, we were instructed once again to arrive before midnight, unarmed and by ourselves. "What the..."

  I had no words, no idea what this could mean. This doesn’t sound like Harry… but who else could it be? What’s with all the secrecy?

  My mind was flickering away, trying to determine who would go to such dark lengths, just to send a summons. No matter how I looked at it, sending a weaponised gathering of Lost to our front gates was an obvious threat.

  I hated to admit it, but the drama was a welcome change of pace. Our lives were getting stirred up again — I just wished they wouldn't bring Ian into our business. This mysterious sender wasn't going to get off easily for that.

  After a plethora of questions from Millie, who forgot that she wasn’t talking to me, I finally caught her up. By the time I was done, she was already shaking her head in denial.

  "...So, we’re not actually going to go, right?”

  I raised my eyebrows, surprised that she didn’t want to take a risk for once. “You don’t think we should? Serah?”

  “It’s obviously a trap,” she weighed in, folding her arms. “We don’t know where this thing came from, or who sent it. They must know who you two are, and that spells danger.”

  Millie paused as she poked around the wheel’s wreckage, her face anchoring into a sneer. "Uh, thanks? I’ll take that as a compliment."

  "Don’t worry, it was. I know the two of you can handle yourselves... but playing right into this person's hands won’t solve anything. If you're going, I'll come with you."

  Serah folded her arms decisively, while Millie nearly fell through the spokes. "W-What?! But it says you’ll be killed... They just want Danny and me!"

  That was what she said, but I knew it was deeper than that. She’d always been snarky with Serah, between comments about her time with the O-Saints and her general distaste of the med student. Even so, these were two girls who never changed their minds once they were set on a goal.

  I sighed. My decision was already made, the moment we spotted the damn thing.

  “Right, then. It's a blind date.”

  ----

  We tried to leave discreetly that night, but Beth wasn't one to be tricked. "Where are you going? Can I come?" She looked up at us expectantly, half-pretending to be asleep.

  I strictly told her that we were going on a supply run, and after much arguing, I got her to lie back down in the medical corner's bed. The poor girl must’ve been as desperate for action as I was, but this ride wasn’t going to be child-friendly. Far from it.

  We got our gear together — Millie's airsoft pistol, Serah’s bloodied scalpels… and me, with the cricket bat Ian used to wield. My tendency to drag the past around with both hands hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  I considered saying goodnight to my mum, like Serah had done with her parents, but decided against it. I would be returning within the hour, and besides, addressing the situation would just create even more stress for the community centre.

  It was hard to tell whether midnight had arrived, but judging by the moon, I'd say it must’ve been around that time. The two girls and I began the long journey North-West, to the place where we buried Ian.

  The change of pace felt bizarre, but I was glad to finally make use of my time. Even if the meeting was some kind of twisted prank, we could at least get some scavenging done.

  About three-quarters of an hour passed — we'd figured out the quicker route to get there after the first time. Even with our speedy path, there was a strange underlying tension between the three of us. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, but it probably had something to do with the elephant in the room.

  Millie had been anything but subtle, falling into step with me and forcing Serah around to the side. Literally muscling her out, she must’ve seen this as our private ‘adventure’ rather than a personal threat. We needed all the help we could get.

  When we reached the site, I wasn't entirely surprised to find that no one was even there. Not even Ian’s grave had been disturbed, still as dormant and shodd
y as the last few times I’d visited.

  "Well, this was a bust." I sighed. Before I could say another word, two bright headlights abruptly glared into existence from the open gates.

  Is that… a car? The noise of the engine was deafening, calling out into the night. I had no doubt that they intended to draw out the Lost, especially the ones we’d left behind in our light jog.

  "T-Turn that off!" Millie protested, waving her fake gun around like a toy.

  The car drove up beside us, and when I saw the occupants, I could only groan in response. I had actually hoped that Harry was coming back to us, but instead it was the red-hoodie brigade.

  The two O-Saints — one short and pudgy, the other lanky and dark — sat in the passenger and driver seats respectively. They didn't look too amused when they saw Serah and our weapons, in complete defiance of their terms. Regardless, they still unlocked the doors for us.

  The taller figure raised what appeared to be a full-on assault rifle, not fucking around.

  "Get in. All of you."

  3 | Midnight Ride

  The stand-off lasted less than a minute, the three of us yelling at the O-Saints as the Lost bled in through the gated street. The car's dazzling lights was attracting them, but they all seemed more interested in our vulnerable circle.

  "If you don't want to die, get in now!" The tall driver screamed urgently, kicking open the doors. Millie wasn't about to fall for another one of their tricks, flailing her arms at the two thugs.

  "How thick do you think we are?! Your lot want people like me dead... Give me one good reason why we should listen to you?!"

  The two boys looked at each other, and nodded. "Our leader can give you answers... We've been working on some serious intel."

  Visibly intrigued, Serah grabbed both of our arms as the Lost approached. "We don't have any choice... Besides, if they really wanted us dead, they would've just ran us over." Frustrated over my lack of options, I hesitantly crawled into the back-seat of the car, followed by Serah and a watchful Millie.