Lockey vs. the Apocalypse | Book 1 | No More Heroes [Adrian's Undead Diary Novel] Meadows, Carl (book recommendations for teens TXT) 📖

“Long time no see,” I said, affecting a more relaxed pose, leaning against the van’s tail, mind working furiously.

“That’s a lot of stuff for one little girl,” he grinned, eliciting another ripple of sycophantic laughter from his minions.

“Well, Tesco’s running a bit behind with their deliveries, so I thought I should stock up.”

This was good. It meant they didn’t know about Nate, which suggested they’d only just got here. I had to keep my smart mouth running for as long as I could to give Nate time, though my eyes kept flicking to the loosely held pistol in Bancroft’s hand. If he didn’t have that, I could have escaped from this bunch of muppets in a blink. One false move though, and Bancroft might give me a severe case of lead poisoning I wouldn’t survive.

“That pretty mouth of yours is still too quick for its own good, I see.”

The way he said, “pretty mouth,” combined with his intense leer, made my teeth itch. Bancroft had always had a thing for me, but it was a possessive desire. He wanted to dominate me, have me under his power. He didn’t like the fact I was so much smarter than him, and every time I slapped him or his cronies with a witty retort back in the day, they pulled that “mental long division” face I referred to earlier. Bancroft wanted to shut my ‘pretty mouth’ up and I had no doubt what he wanted to fill it with.

Gag. I feel sick at even the notion. He’d get a shock if he ever did though; I’d grind that sweaty little chipolata of his to bloody paste between my teeth.

“How’s the family?” I asked, playing for time and not wanting to light the fire of his infamous anger too early.

“We own this town now,” he smirked. “We did before, but now, we make the laws. Anyone left here is ours now.”

Johnny Bancroft is not a genius, as his spilling of intel without any subterfuge proves, so I decided to dig a bit deeper.

“How many’s that?”

“About forty or so.” He looked me up and down. “We could do with another woman or two though. The ones we’ve got are getting a bit worn out.” Another smattering of laughter from his cronies.

I swear to God, if I could have swung my shotgun round without taking a bullet, I’d have blasted him into oblivion right then and there.

“Tell you what, Lockey,” he said in a tone that suggested he was about to offer me a sweet deal. “Why don’t you put that gun down before you hurt yourself, then come along with us. Jamie would love to have a word.”

“Well, I’d love to Johnny,” I sighed, “but as you can see, I’m a little busy right now. Rain check?”

And there it was. In the click of a finger, his expression clouded over, a little flicker of madness flashing in his eyes. His jaw became an underbite as it jutted in irritation, and I knew shit was teetering on the edge of violence.

“I wasn’t asking,” he snarled.

“Don’t move an inch,” said Nate, appearing behind me as he slid out from the front of the van. Jesus, that gravel tone was like the sweetest symphony to my ears.

Backup.

Johnny and his minions were slow on the uptake. Nate stalked to my side, Glock up in two hands and steady as a rock, the barrel clearly pointed at Johnny’s ape-like frame. The gorilla still had his gun down by his side. Oh, how the tables had turned. Ape-boy was the only one with a firearm, the rest of his thugs all armed with melee weapons, and Nate had taken control in an instant.

“Who the fuck are you?” demanded Johnny, adding a splash of bravado to his demeanour so he didn’t lose face. “You got yourself a sugar daddy, Lockey?”

“Quit yapping, puppy,” said Nate. “Or I’ll put you down.”

Nate just doesn’t need to raise his voice. At all. He just tells you how things are going to be, and you shut the fuck up and listen. Bancroft, however, had all his brain cells lined up in single file. The guy is so fucking dense, I swear light just bends around him.

“Do you know who I am?” he postured.

Ah, that old chestnut.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” retorted Nate, equally bored by the chest-puffing. “Let me tell you what I do know, puppy. What I know is if you and your little puppy friends don’t put your weapons on the ground real slow, turn your arses round, and walk quietly away, this old wolf is going to end you.”

The whole scene went still, all of Bancroft’s minions starting to get twitchy. The fuckers were sheep holding sticks, and Nate was a lion with a gun. They were out of their depth against a real warrior. Intimidation and numbers were usually enough for them, but their true cowardice was starting to resonate under Nate’s steady and withering glare. Their eyes kept looking to Bancroft and he could sense their questioning gaze, but the dumb fuck was too obstinate to take the hint.

Pride is the most foolish of the seven sins. It builds a tiny fortress inside your mind and heart, swaggering round it like a mad dictator, while remaining completely oblivious to the enemy at the gates.

“There’s seven of us, old timer,” warned Bancroft, but his voice had lost its edge. He was losing and he knew it, but he was too damn stupid to know when to fold his hand. “You can’t take us all down.”

“I don’t need to, puppy,” said Nate. “All you need to know is that the moment even one of you twitches in a way I don’t like, your switch will get flicked, and you won’t have to worry about what comes next.”

Taking the opportunity, I swung the shotgun round from my shoulder, pointing it at some of the minions.

“From this range, I reckon I could get two of them with a single barrel,” I said