This is the End 2: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (9 Book Collection)

by J. Thorn

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “How’s it coming with the explosives?” Mack’s voice rang out over the radio.

  “Patience,” Alex responded.

  “Time is short.”

  “So is your patience.”

  “Baby.”

  A grumble and Alex held the radio to her mouth. “If you’d leave me alone, just one more minute. I’ll have it.”

  “I’ll leave you alone.”

  No ‘thank you’ she just hooked her radio to her waist and continued her task.

  Her fingers fumbled a little with the last portion of setting the explosive, and then she got it. She stepped back at the same time Homeless Man Doke popped up right beside her. She was so engrossed, she never smelled him coming. His breath stunk when he gasped out, and Alex jumped with a peep of a shriek. She was so pissed off that he scared her—she actually reached out and punched him in her frustration before grabbing her CRK and spearing his forehead.

  She hated being snuck up on.

  Hated it.

  Never in her life was she like that, until the day Gary died. Or rather rose. That was on her mind on the way back to Mack.

  She could hear his voice as she settled into her ‘watching spot’, the recent Doke pop-up, the word explosive, sent her mind back.

  Alex didn’t exactly see Gary die. She went into the other room to get a cool cloth, paused to look out the kitchen window, and when she returned to the bedroom, Gary was dead.

  She said her goodbyes, then tried to call for help. It was then she learned that she had to take the body outside.

  Outside was a war zone. From the bedroom window in their third-floor apartment, she could see smoke and hear gunshots.

  It was when she turned from the window that she saw the bed was empty. When she went to the bed—Gary appeared from behind her.

  Mouth agape, gasping, groaning hungrily at her.

  She saw that movie. It was a scene from there. She pushed him away, enough to gain a few seconds, then she reached to the headboard where Gary hung his revolver.

  He told her to have it ready, loaded, safety off—with all hell breaking loose, he didn’t want any delay or hesitation on her part.

  There wasn’t.

  She snatched the gun, aimed, and fired. Alex didn’t piss around with any shot. She put a bullet in his head.

  He rose from his death, she put him back.

  That instant she shot him made her feel brave, energized, but just for a second. She freaked out and knew she had to get help.

  She kept the revolver in hand, grabbed her cell, placed it in her pocket, and raced out of the apartment. She just had to leave.

  The car wasn’t far, and she snatched the keys in her exit of their home.

  She didn’t think about the route from the older-style apartment building. There were no interior screams and she just raced down the stairwells. Hitting the next-to-last section of steps, a hand reached through the railing and latched onto her ankle. She nearly lost balance, but kicked her way free and flew out the front door.

  Outside.

  The stench of smoke blasted her, and Alex took a second, holding her hair from her eyes to look for her car. She leapt the three steps, turned to her right and stopped.

  Two things made her getting to her car impossible.

  One, the car was smashed and in flames.

  Two, a block beyond it—a wall of people moved slowly up the street.

  She spun and … Slam!

  Her body connected with someone.

  They didn’t budge and their back was to hers. She knew who it was. Mr. Hinkle.

  “Oh, God, Mr. Hinkle.” She reached up and laid her hand on his shoulder.

  His wide-open mouth screamed a silent-damnation scream as he aimed his teeth in attack mode. She shoved him from her way and bolted.

  She could see it. Salvation.

  Help.

  A line of police cars.

  She looked back to Mr. Hinkle, his face white and pasty, mouth bloody, dead—yet walking. He was soon joined by old lady Wills, who looked exactly the same.

  The mob at the end of the street, though slow, moved closer. They were all like Gary. Like Mr. Hinkle. Mrs. Wills.

  Dead. Attacking. Moving.

  Hungry.

  Shuddering a fearful and disgusted ‘Oh God’, she cringed, gained her bearing and flew for the police line.

  Just in case they thought her one of them, she called out the entire way, “Help! Someone help!”

  “Hold your fire!” someone called out.

  She approached, then crossed the police line.

  “Step back, ma’am,” a police officer told her.

  Why she said it, she didn’t know. It blurted out, “I just shot my husband in the head. He was dead. I just shot my—”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t help you. Step back.”

  Was she shoved?

  Yes, she was. Her eyes wandered to what the police were doing. Lining up. The gunshots made her jolt. They were firing upon the ensuing crowd.

  Not that she was a Zombie expert, but surely, Alex had seen enough Zombie films to know the mob outnumbered the police—and with them not aiming for the head—they would be overrun.

  Where to go? Where to go?

  Alex backed up, farther and farther, until a scream caught her attention.

  Spinning to the sound, she witnessed a woman crying out for help, being dragged from her still-running car. Two of those things had her. Pulling, biting, gnawing. Her guts oozed out.

  Alex had to catch her breath. She raised her revolver.

  The second that one bit into the woman’s neck, Alex fired. It was a point-blank shot, hitting the woman and ending her suffering.

  Then quickly, she took out the two Zombies. When they dropped, she ran to the car. As fast as she could, she moved the woman, got in the car and shut the door.

  Slam!

  One of those things hit against the window. Shifting the gear quickly to reverse, she backed up, spun a half-circle and careened down the street. Hands shaking, mind spinning, she almost didn’t notice the vibrating in her pocket.

  Driving through what seemed like a maze, Alex reached for her phone and answered.

  “Alex?”

  “Mack!” Alex called out in desperation, then burst into tears.

  “You’re OK. Thank God.”

  “I don’t know what to do. Where are you? It’s a madhouse.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m at post. Listen to what I tell you. Don’t take the main roads. I’ll get you here. But stay clear of the main roads.”

  Alex nodded as if he could see her, then listened to Mack give her directions.

  It took her a bit longer to arrive, going the route that Mack suggested, but she did. She came up from behind the military post, was greeted by a Sergeant who was waiting on her and he escorted her to Mack, who was standing in the midst of a group of men.

  It was the welcome relief she needed.

  Seeing Mack.

  Suddenly she felt safe and even more secure when his strong arms wrapped tightly around her.

  “Glad you’re OK,” he said.

  Alex nodded.

  “Look. In the last hour, things took a turn for the worse. Stay here. Stay put. I swear I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  When he said that, a soldier approached, “Sarge, we have a wall at the end of the highway. Approaching, slow, but approaching. Thousands. What do you wanna do? It’s your call.”

  “Set the explosives,” Mack said.

  Ironically, and oddly, no sooner did Alex hear Mack say that in her mind—he said it in her ear, making her jump. Snapping her from that flashback.

  “You OK?” he asked. “Sorry to scare you.”

  “No, no I’m fine. I was daydreaming.” Alex exhaled.

  “All set to go?”

  Alex held up the remote. “All set.”

  “Let’s back it up.” Mack drew her in closer to where the truck and Humvee were set up.
r />   Raphael approached. “Excuse me.”

  Mack turned toward him. “Yeah.”

  “I thought we were packing up to go.”

  “We are. But we have cleanup to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you see, Raph,” Mack said. “We can’t kill them all. But we sure as shit can do our best to rid the most of them from this world.”

  “How can we do that when we are leaving for the next town?”

  “We’ll get there, but first, this,” Mack explained. “See, from our surveillance, we estimate two large packs. One on this side, one on the east.” With a nod of his head, he winked. “They die in the water.”

  “The bridge. Ah, yes. Are we hitting both packs?”

  “Nah, takes too long. It’s getting dark, and dark means more danger. One today. One tomorrow.”

  “I take it you are luring them?”

  “Absolutely,” Mack replied.

  “With what?”

  “Like a fish, good old-fashion bait.”

  “What is the bait?” Raphael asked.

  “Don’t you mean …” Mack grinned and lifted the radio. “Who?” He pressed the button. “Rick, come in.”

  At top speed, Rick ran down an empty street. Wearing a headset radio, he looked behind him to see the huge mass of Dokes on his tail. “You know, Sarge, I hate when you do this to me.”

  “You’re the fastest one I got,” Mack replied.

  Rick hated it, he really did. Every city, every town, every Cleansing—he was the bait. Despite his running, he could hear Mack on his radio.

  “Del, you there?” Mack asked.

  “I’m here. In position,” Del replied. “I see Rick. He’s good.”

  “That’s what you think,” Rick replied.

  “Rick,” Mack called out. “You should be coming up on it.”

  “I see it,” Rick answered, and he did. The red motorcycle. Or more of a scooter in Rick’s opinion. It was small, and he wondered if it was even fast enough. He’d find out soon enough.

  He jumped on it, started it, and waited. He wanted to go but couldn’t. He had to wait for just the right moment. Everything was timed. It had to be just right.

  The second Del shouted ‘go’ to him, Rick took off. The Dokes were close. Too close for comfort. One reach, one leap, and he was Doke dinner.

  He sped down the street on the predetermined path and hit the bridge ahead of the Dokes. Middle of the bridge, he stopped and waited. The plan was to draw them in, draw them close, take off and destroy the bridge.

  Mack lowered his binoculars when he saw Rick on the bridge. He hoped that the distance wasn’t too great between Rick and the Dokes, or else they’d lose a day and have to start again.

  “Hold it steady, Rick, just another moment. Alex, Nicole, wait for my call.”

  Raphael approached Mack. “You said we are Cleansing two packs. Will we go after the next one after this?”

  “No, setup takes too long. It’s dangerous at dark. Tomorrow.” Mack raised his binoculars again. “Del, come in, I’m not seeing.”

  “Give it a second,” Del said. “Wait for it … Last one on the bridge. Go, Rick.”

  Mack watched as Rick sped forward and the Dokes closed in. “Pick it up, Rick, pick up speed.”

  “This looks dangerous,” Raphael said. “Perhaps I should use an arrow.”

  “No, we got it,” Mack told him. “Alex, on my call. Make sure you guys are at a safe distance.” He saw Rick near the end of the bridge.

  “Are you sure?” Raphael asked. “I can use an arrow on them.”

  Wanting to say, are you kidding me? Mack refrained. He was too focused on Rick, the timing, and finishing the first part of the Cleansing. “Positive, Raph, we got it covered.” Mack tugged on Raphael’s sleeve, drawing him back. “Now, Alex.”

  From Mack’s vantage point, it appeared as if every Doke was on the bridge. And the second Rick crossed the end of the bridge, the three explosions rang out, toppling the bridge. The massive amount of Dokes poured into the river.

  Mack removed his earpiece when Del screamed victoriously in his ear. Walking to Rick, Alex ran to him.

  “I am getting so good with those.” Alex grinned.

  “You are.” Mack hugged her, holding her to him as he walked to Rick.

  Rick looked frazzled as he stepped from the bike. “I’m OK.”

  “You sure?” Mack asked.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He looked back at the river. “It’s such a good thing the water kills them.”

  “Tell me about it,” Mack said, and shifted his eyes to Raphael who had approached. Raphael stood with hands on hips, staring out. He looked disturbed. “What?” Mack asked of him. “What’s wrong?”

  “You realize,” Raphael replied. “An arrow would have been much more efficient and less of a danger to young Rick.”

  Opening his mouth to blast the newcomer, Mack heard Alex whisper, ‘Be nice.’ And Mack refrained. He nodded with a closed-mouth smile. “Next time.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “Absolutely.” Mack’s eyes lifted to the sky then back down to the river. Like they did every time they took out mass amounts, Mack watched. He watched and waited until he saw no movement. No more Dokes. Then—and only then—would he be satisfied that the job was complete and they could stop for the day.

  Mack stood there, despite what the others did. He watched until the last Doke arm disappeared into the water and all that remained was a burning bridge. No signs of Dokes, or that there ever were any.

  One day, Mack hoped, it would be that way everywhere. It would happen. Of that, he was sure.

  CHAPTER NINE

  In its prime, the highway motel was probably a low-income resident’s paradise. Clean, or at least it probably was, plain and cozy, now it was a sanctuary night-stop for the group.

  Sealing off the stairwells, they set up lawn chairs on the second floor. Enjoying the slight break from the stifling hot day.

  Del had gone off just before sunset and returned noisily. He dropped a box at the same time he exhaled and sat down. “OK, here’s what I got. I put the other one in the truck.” He opened the flaps. “Vodka.” He pulled out the first bottle.

  “Mine.” Nicole reached over.

  “Jim Beam … mine.” Del set it down. “Mack ... Jack.”

  Mack reached over and grabbed the bottle. “Thanks.”

  “Blackberry brandy?” Del showed the bottle. “Takers? Rick?”

  “Guy, like why would you get brandy?” Rick asked. “That’s some nasty stuff.”

  “Yeah, you got a point.” Del gave an ‘up’ motion of his head to Rick. “What are you doing with that Sterno?”

  “Got it roaring,” Rick replied. “Making the little guy a s’more.”

  “That sounds good. Make me one?”

  “Yeah, no problem.” Rick finished building the treat and extended the napkin to Billy, who sat between Alex and Mack. “Here you go, little guy. For you.”

  Billy looked up. “No thank you.”

  Mack took it and placed it better in Billy’s view. “When I was a kid, I loved these.”

  “You don’t like them as a grown-up?” Billy asked.

  “Oh, sure.”

  “Then you may eat it,” Billy said. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You have to eat,” Mack said. “Anything, calories. Come on, for me?”

  “I’d rather have Spam, please.”

  “Yes,” Del cheered. “My guy.”

  Alex laughed and stroked Billy’s hair. “I’ll have Mack …” her words slowed down when Raphael and Fr. Owens emerged from a room.

  Raphael walked directly to Mack. “May I have a word with you alone?”

  “Something wrong?” Mack asked.

  “It is about today and the events of the day.”

  Mack took a drink, nodded, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “If it’s about today, then it’s about everyone, so everyone can hear.”

 
; “I’d rather we speak alone.”

  “I’d rather not.” Mack brought the bottle to his lips.

  “Fine then,” Raphael said. “It’s your humiliation.”

  On that, Mack set down the bottle and stood abruptly.

  Fr. Owens waved out his hands. “Mack, now, don’t be facing off with the Messenger of God.”

  “Yeah, well, Messenger of God or not, I don’t like the insinuation. My humiliation?”

  Raphael nodded. “Yes.”

  “My humiliation?” Mack tilted his head.

  “Mack.” Alex reached up and grabbed his hand. “Stop.”

  “No. My humiliation?”

  “Good Lord, man,” Raphael said. “Yes. I know you hear.”

  Mack was torn between anger and frustration. Perhaps there wasn’t something right about Raphael. Maybe he was as skewed with thinking as Fr. Owens. For that alone, Mack would feel guilty for decking him. Bringing his hands to his face, Mack grunted. “This better be good. Let me hear it.”

  “Today your plan, thought out and executed to the best of your ability, was not efficient, and more so, it was a danger to young Rick.”

  “It’s what we do in every city.”

  “And that is why I’m here. You are dallying. Taking too long. Cleansing is good, but you do not need to do so in every city.”

  Mack tossed out his hands. “What else is there to do?”

  “Head to your destination and—”

  “We don’t have a destination.”

  “Yes you do.”

  “No we don’t.” Mack turned his head to Del who grunted. “What, Del?”

  “This is really third-grade arguing.”

  Mack reached down and took a drink. He exhaled then drew in a calm feeling. “Look, Raph—”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “It’s short for Raphael.”

  “I did not request that. How would you like it if I called you, Mmm?”

  “Mmm?” Mack tiled his head.

  “Yes. Mmm. Short for Mack.”

  “Mack is already short for Mackenzie.”

  “Very well, Mackenzie …”

  Mack grunted again. “Oh my God.”