Survivors: Deconstruction Book Five (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Rashad Freeman

  Their battle was eerily silent, save for a few grunts and growls. Each man focused on securing the pistol, while everything else faded away. Koran tried to overpower him, but Chase twisted and yanked as he turned to his side. Then another gunshot rang out and they both stopped moving.

  CHAPTER 27

  OF ALL THE BROKEN LIVES

  Alistair fell onto his knees and cried out in pain. Blood streamed across the ground as Koran gathered himself and stood up. He staggered a bit then leaned into a tree before giving himself a quick once over.

  “What the fuck?” Chase grumbled. He was lying on his back, his hands stained with blood as they tried to plug the hole in his chest.

  Alistair crawled toward him, reaching out and taking his hand. “It’s okay,” he muttered. “You’re gonna be okay Chase.”

  Coughing up blotches of crimson, Chase tried to reply, but his words were garbled. He gasped for air and choked on the pool of blood in the back of his throat. He could feel himself slipping away and an icy fear gripped him as he realized he was going to die.

  The world spun in a blur of dull and lifeless colors. An unworldly chill seeped into his pores, submerging him in darkness. The burning in his chest faded and he lost the sensation of his body as he floated into nothing.

  “Chase! Stay with me,” Alistair called to him in vain.

  Chase’s face was pale, his eyes glossed over as he stared at the sky blankly. Alistair shook him, and he focused momentarily and squeezed his hand. Fighting back tears, he tried to speak, but the wind stole his words then the world faded away.

  Alistair winced as Chase’s grip fell limp. “No!” he roared. “No!”

  He whirled around and glared at Koran. He was wincing as he tightened the tourniquet around his leg. Their eyes met, and Koran straightened up and held his hands out.

  “I…I’m sorry kid,” he said in a scratchy voice.

  Alistair jumped to his feet and charged. He bashed into Koran and they hit the tree then rolled off to the side. Koran reeled in pain as Alistair landed on his injured leg.

  “I’ll kill you!” Alistair roared and took a wild swing.

  Koran rolled from under him then scrambled to his feet. Alistair swung again, but Koran blocked it then kicked him in the chest and sent him tumbling backward.

  “Stop it!” Koran warned.

  Gasping for air, Alistair steadied himself then charged again. Koran leaned his shoulder forward and knocked him back to the ground. Then he stomped on his stomach and kicked him in the face. Blood peppered the snow like confetti and Alistair howled in pain.

  “Look at me!” Koran shouted and leveled the gun at Alistair’s head. “Look at me you idiot!”

  Alistair spit blood into the leaves then raised his head. He looked past the gun and focused on Koran.

  “Fuck you!” he croaked.

  Koran reached down and yanked him up by his shirt. He whacked him in the face several times with the handle of the gun then let him fall back to ground in a bloody heap. Alistair took a rattled breath and blinked the stars from his eyes.

  “I tried!” Koran growled as he pressed the barrel of the gun to Alistair’s forehead.

  The metal was still warm from the bullet that killed Chase. Alistair cringed at the touch and instinctively pulled away.

  “You did this!” Koran continued. “I told them…I told them I wouldn’t kill kids, but you left me no choice.”

  Alistair stared back to Koran with tears in his eyes. The weight of his failure pressed against his chest like a mountain. He’d tried and like so many others he’d meet his end at the hands of a traitor.

  Closing his eyes, he thought of his father. How he’d died to protect them all, but in the end, it was in vain. He thought of his mother and how his death would ruin her, how he’d left her alone when he should’ve been fighting to keep her safe. He thought of his brothers and all the games they’d never play, the future they’d never know. It broke his heart, but he was also sick of fighting. He was sick of running and waiting for the next tragedy. He was ready for it to be over.

  “You did this,” Koran muttered.

  With glossy eyes, he took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the pistol. He summoned all his anger, all his rage, but there wasn’t enough left. He couldn’t convince himself to pull the trigger.

  Scratching his head, Koran lowered the gun and took a step back. He turned and looked down the trail then looked back to Alistair and wiped a tear from his face.

  “Go…go back,” he said.

  Alistair dropped his head into the snow and sobbed uncontrollably. Time washed away, and his mind swam with pain and confusion. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, but when he opened his eyes, Koran was gone.

  Sitting up, he looked around the wooded area then turned to face Chase’s lifeless body. He stared at him briefly then looked away, ashamed of how little he’d done to help him.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Crawling across the snow he clambered to his feet and stood over Chase’s body. He took a deep breath then grabbed his legs and pulled him off the toppled tent.

  “You’re okay…you’re okay,” he mumbled as he dragged Chase a few feet away from the tent.

  He sniffled and wiped his face then started to rummage through the flattened canvas. He pulled out the rifle Daniel had given them and strapped the gear bag onto his back.

  “I’m gonna get him,” he said and turned back to Chase. “I’m promise, I’m gonna get him.”

  CHAPTER 28

  VENGEANCE IS MINE

  One foot in front of the other. It was as simple as that. Alistair trudged through the deepening snow like a nomad, but he kept mumbling the instructions under his breath, fueling his legs with the most basic of commands.

  He didn’t know how far he’d gone and he’d accepted the fact that even if he succeeded and killed Koran, he was going to die out there. But none of that mattered, he just needed to keep moving.

  The wind roared past his face and he shivered and dipped his head. He moved a little faster as the cold seeped into his bones like ice water. The wide trees that broke up the blasts of arctic chill had thinned and now emaciated trunks were scattered across the field.

  Pausing, Alistair looked out across the gentle slope and grumbled. “Where did you go?”

  He’d been walking for hours and still hadn’t seen a sign of Koran, not that he’d know if he did. Chase was the tracker. Chase was the one that could find Koran then lead them back home after. Alistair could only hope that he was walking in the right direction.

  “God please,” he begged and stared up to the sky. “Please help me.”

  He walked on for miles, each one looking the same as the last. Whispers of doubt and failure flooded his mind, but anger burned deep within like ancient coals stoking the fire of revenge. He’d gone too far to stop, even if he wanted to, he didn’t know how to get back.

  A rumble broke out and rolled across the sky like a giant bellowing in the night. Flashes of electric blue danced from cloud to cloud then slammed into a nearby tree, reducing it to flaming ambers.

  Alistair started to run as icy rain pelted him with deadly shrapnel. There was a canopy of trees ahead and he made his way toward them as fast as his quivering legs would go. Crouching, he took cover inside of a hollow trunk.

  The storm roared and showered the ground with golf-sized hail and globs of freezing rain. Alistair tucked his knees to his chest and leaned back against the damp bark. With his head slumped, he listened to the world as it spun itself apart. He wondered if Daniel and Trevor had made it back, if MJ was still alive. He thought about the Mayflower and how it was the first time he’d felt safe in so long. He wondered if he’d ever feel that way again.

  His stomach rumbled, almost as loudly as the storm. He hadn’t eaten in two days and now that the adrenaline was wearing off his body protested his negligence.

  He flexed his aching fingers then opened his bag and pulled out a protein bar and a small
flask. He cursed himself for not taking the other supplies from the tent, but his anger had made him careless. After eating three bars and washing them down with a gulp of warm water, he took inventory of his supplies and his heart sank.

  He had three bars left and half a canteen of water. Holding up the utility belt of ammo, he let out a little laugh to suppress his fear. “If only I could eat lead,” he mumbled.

  Everything else in the bag was meant to end lives not sustain them. As the rain outside began to subside he dumped some of his ammo in the sunken tree then crawled outside. The bag was still heavy with bullets, but it was a little easier to carry. Besides, if he couldn’t kill Koran with the first 150 shots, he had little hope of ever hitting him.

  With his rifle dangling from his shoulder, Alistair arched his back to stretch then headed off. The ground was damp and mushy from the short storm and quickly he found his shoes soaked in freezing water. The soles of his feet burned with every step and he started to wonder if he was simply tired or if something else was wrong. Those thoughts faded to the back of his mind as he walked further and further into the wilderness and the forest grew thick and looming.

  Another hour passed, and another wave of disappointment and despair washed over him. He felt like he could barely stand and yearned for a bed to lie down and sleep. His eyelids grew heavy and every breath he took was labored and deliberate.

  As Alistair passed a cluster of medium sized rocks, he stopped and took a seat. His thighs felt like lava and his lower back felt so tight he thought his spine was going to break. Grumbling, he leaned to the side and winced in pain, stars bursting in front of his eyes. He didn’t think his body could go any further.

  Fighting against the grogginess, he tried to sit up, but fell from the rock and collapsed into the dirt. Suddenly, he began to cry and buried his face into the folds of his arms. He couldn’t stop it and every fear, every mistake, every failure poured onto the ground as he wailed in agony.

  “I’m sorry…I’m so, so sorry,” he moaned into the emptiness.

  He’d reached a limit that he didn’t know he had. His body failed him, and his mind was overcome with emotions. His eyes burned as he let every sorrow bleed from his eyes. He was crying out of exhaustion just as much as sorrow.

  Minutes passed and what felt like a lifetime. But at some point, he’d cried all he could. Despair still clung to him like a sweaty shirt, but his eyes had nothing left.

  “Finish this Alistair,” he said to himself. “Get up and finish this.”

  A branch snapped somewhere in the distance and Alistair lifted his head. Leaves crackled, and he whirled around and gazed into the trees. A shadow flitted past his vision and he rubbed his eyes and looked again, staring harder into the gnarled trunks.

  “Koran,” he growled under his breath.

  Gasping, his heart fluttered, and he reached down and retrieved his rifle from the ground. He leaned over the rocks and took a deep breath as he brought the gun to his shoulder. Koran hobbled slowly through a thicket of trees, exiting the other side toward a wide-open field. His back was turned, and he seemed to be singing or talking to himself as he walked.

  Alistair swallowed and focused down the length of the barrel. As the gun trembled in his hands, he tried to line the sight up then with a deep breath, he pulled the trigger.

  Nothing.

  Ducking back behind the rocks, Alistair flipped the gun around. He looked over the weapon, trying to remember all the things Chase had shown him. With his left thumb, he switched the selector from safe to auto, then peeked back over the craggy mound.

  Koran was still in view, lumbering through the trees like he didn’t have a care in the world. Alistair took aim again, a cold sweat running down his hands as he placed his finger onto the trigger. He closed one eye, ground his teeth and squeezed.

  A volley of bullets tore from the gun and he fell backward as the searing metal lay waste to the surrounding trees. Koran ducked then jumped to the ground, groaning as his leg slammed into the dirt.

  Scrambling, Alistair tightened his grip on the rifle and found his footing. He ran toward the field and took cover behind a massive oak. Koran was still on the ground, crawling toward a dense patch of bushes and a downed tree trunk. Alistair darted closer then stopped behind another tree and raised his rifle.

  Half aiming, half praying, he squeezed the trigger. The bullets crackled into the dirt beside Koran and he dove to the other side of log and scuttled to his feet. He ran toward the field as bullets thudded into the ground forcing him to take cover back in the forest.

  Whipping his pistol out, Koran fired two shots back toward the tree line then hid. Alistair shot back at him and a string of bullets rattled wildly through the scattered branches. As the gun clicked empty he grabbed another magazine then waited for Koran to show his face.

  “Alistair!” Koran shouted. “Alistair is that you?”

  Koran leaned his head from behind the tree and Alistair fired again, but he was off target. Koran laughed as he clutched his gun to his chest.

  “Automatic fire is hard to master,” Koran yelled. “Best to keep it in semi auto if you want to be precise.”

  “Fuck you!” Alistair screamed.

  “I really wish you would’ve just gone back.”

  Koran leaned around the tree again and fired another shot near the base of the tree where Alistair was hiding. On que, Alistair let his rifle explode, unleashing a long stream rounds that shredded the nearby trees to splinters.

  Alistair paused to load another magazine and Koran rushed toward him behind a wall of bullets. Alistair dropped to the ground and his rifle fell from his hand and hit the muddy earth with a thud. He covered his head while shards of bark showered all around him.

  “Get up!” Koran roared as he closed the distance.

  Rolling over, Alistair reached for his rifle, but Koran’s boot slammed down onto his wrist, pinning it to the ground. He leveled his pistol at Alistair’s face then cocked his head to the side. With his finger on the trigger he narrowed his eyes and sighed.

  “You really should’ve went back,” he said as the clap of gunfire exploded into the air.

  CHAPTER 29

  THE BLIND BULLET OF JUSTICE

  “Koran!” MJ growled.

  Before he could even respond, her bullet ripped through his forehead and he collapsed to the ground beside Alistair. Blood sprayed across Alistair’s face. Gawking, he stared at Koran’s lifeless body with wild eyes.

  “Alistair!” Daniel called. “Alistair are you okay?”

  He didn’t respond, he couldn’t respond. There were no words that he could form as his mouth dangled open. Everything happened so fast. He wasn’t even sure if he was still alive.

  Daniel reached down and grabbed his arm. With Trevor’s help, they pulled Alistair to his feet and brushed the cold dirt off his clothes as they looked him over.

  “Here,” Trevor said and held out a tattered cloth. “Your face…you, you’ve got blood,”

  Alistair took the cloth and slowly dabbed at his face, staring down at Koran the entire time. “He’s dead,” he mumbled.

  “You okay?” MJ asked as she made her way toward them.

  Her jacket was stained with dried blood. Her face was pale, and a bloody bandage was wrapped around her head. But her eyes raged with energy like a lighthouse in the middle of the night, like she was ready to take on the world if needed.

  Her hand tightened around the pistol and she looked down at Koran with disgust. Kicking his gun away, she shifted her eyes to Alistair and her face softened a bit.

  “Alistair?” she said in a worried voice. “Are you hurt? Did anything hit you?”

  Alistair stared at her in confusion. His mind was still in fight or flight mode and it took him a moment to register what she asked. He looked down at his legs then held his hands out, frowning at the blood and dirt that covered his palms. “I’m…I’m fine,” he quivered. He shook his head from side to side then nearly collapsed as he was overcom
e with emotion.

  “He’s dead,” he cried out again as Daniel caught him by the arm and held him up. “It’s over.”

  “Yeah, it’s over,” MJ consoled him.

  She placed her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him toward her until his forehead was touching hers. The air brimmed with the scent of blood and sweat and as she stared into his eyes she felt a swell of tears building.

  “He’s gone,” she whispered to him. “He’s gone, and he’ll never hurt anyone again.”

  “Thank you,” he said softly.

  Alistair reached out and hugged her, burying his face into her shoulder. He cried, and she cried with him and for a few moments the world seemed right.

  MJ lifted her head and stepped away as a gust of cold wind whistled through her hair. She glanced up at the sky as the sun teetered toward the horizon and let out a slow, methodic breath.

  “How…how did you get here?” Alistair asked. “I thought you were going to die.”

  “This?” she asked and touched the bandage on her head. “It’s nothing…nothing that some Tylenol and a few stitches won’t solve. I’ve had worse.”

  Trevor laughed. “She nearly jumped off the stretcher. Made us stop and we’ve been chasing your trail ever since.”

  “Where’s Chase?” Daniel asked suddenly.

  Alistair slumped and looked away.

  “No?” Trevor gasped.

  “This morning,” Alistair started and rubbed his face. “We made camp last night and when we woke up Koran was there. He killed him.”

  Daniel twisted his face in pain. Clenching his jaw, he fought back tears as he turned and walked off.

  “Daniel,” Alistair called after him.

  “I’ll get him,” Trevor replied.