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

He nodded on cue. “Easy. Maybe even three at once if you pop both barrels.”

That tipped them. The guy to Bancroft’s right leaned towards him.

“Come on, boss,” murmured Machete. “This ain’t the time.”

“Fuck him,” spat Bancroft, and he moved.

Nate’s first bullet was true, punching through the massive target of his chest centre-mass. The second bullet, a millisecond later, cracked through Bancroft’s skull before the gorilla’s gun moved barely an inch. The moment he spoke, Nate knew what was coming and as soon as Bancroft’s arm twitched, the old soldier didn’t hesitate. Bang bang, classic double tap, and the gun-toting primate was dead before he’d even figured out he’d been shot the first time.

The rest of his crew clattered their weapons to the asphalt, arms up, horrified at the shift in dynamic. Machete looked down at Bancroft’s corpse, then back up at Nate.

“You’ve no idea what you’ve done, old man,” he blurted. “Fuck, that’s Johnny Bancroft! Jamie’s not gonna stop until he strings you up!”

“Take your friend back to his family,” said Nate, ignoring Machete’s disbelief. “I see any of you dickheads again, we won’t be having this conversation. As of now, you’re shoot on sight to me.” They stared at him, horrified and frozen. “You’ve got till I hit ten. There are enough bullets in this magazine for all of you twice over. One.”

Nate didn’t even get to two. The six thugs picked up Johnny’s corpse and scarpered, struggling under the big bastard’s dead weight, but there was no way they were heading back to Jamie Bancroft without his little brother’s body.

“We better finish up,” said Nate quietly. “No telling if and when they’ll be back with reinforcements and I don’t want anyone tailing us back to the lodge.”

I nodded, wandering over to the weapons scattered on the asphalt. I picked up one of the weird axe tools, nodding at its hefty weight.

“I like this. Weirdest axe I ever did see.”

“That’s not an axe,” said Nate. “That’s a fireman’s halligan.”

“Halligan, huh?” I nodded. “I think I’ll keep it.”

We finished up in quick order, spending no more than twenty minutes with the two of us rushing for all we were worth, trying to get as much in the pickup and van as we could. Pretty soon though, Nate called time. We had plenty and even though the transit van was only half full, we were running down an hourglass of unknown size, so we closed up and set our little convoy for home. We had to forego the fuel run after our encounter, so that’s something we’ll have to come back to.

We had a conversation about Jamie Bancroft when we were back, but I’ll write about that tomorrow, when I’m sipping on my morning coffee.

I have to say though, I think we just kicked the hornet’s nest. Pride runs deep in the Bancroft family, reputation and image is everything to those bastards. Jamie’s not like Johnny; he’s smarter, but a real sadist. Johnny was just a meathead, not even trusted to lead the real thugs of the Bancroft operation. The Bancrofts have access to firearms, but Johnny’s little crew weren’t high enough on the food chain to be trusted with them apparently, and he only got one because he’s Jamie’s brother.

As if the dead aren’t enough to deal with, now we’ve got a local psycho and his mini-army thirsty for revenge.

Fuck this shit. I’m going to bed.

July 29th, 2010

HAPPY, WITH A TWIST

The sun is shining, I’ve got steaming hot coffee, I’ve had a hot shower, Particles is chowing down on some proper dog food, and the other two are fast asleep.

All in all, I’m in a decent frame of mind this morning, so while I’m feeling chipper, I’ll fill you in on our conversation last night.

I gave Nate the lowdown on the Bancrofts and the implications of him just shooting one of them dead.

“I gave them fair warning,” he shrugged, sipping at a coffee. “The ape chose to ignore it. It’s not like they can find us.”

“You don’t know Jamie, Nate,” I warned. “He’s a cunning shitball and single-minded. Anyone who crosses the Bancrofts ends up dead and the son of a bitch is a full-on sadist. He likes to take pieces from people while they’re still alive, getting a hard-on over their screams. This is bad news. They’ll be on the lookout for us, so going into town is going to be nigh on impossible for supplies.”

“We’ll just go to the next town over, in the other direction.”

“We can’t,” I said.

That caught Nate’s attention. “Can’t?”

I shook my head vigorously. “Can’t. He’s got captives. Women being used as sex slaves from what Johnny let slip. I can’t let that go.”

Nate put his cup down, slowly and deliberately. “I don’t want to sound heartless, but that’s not our problem.”

I gaped at him. “Not our problem?” I repeated, aghast. “Not our fucking problem? Nate, that baboon-gorilla lovechild was going to haul me off to be one of those unwilling sex dolls! And even put that aside, can we fucking sleep if we did nothing? Really? Isn’t there a quote about a bystander refusing to act when witnessing evil is, in fact, committing an evil act?”

“Hold up there, kid,” he said, raising a hand. “A minute ago, you were bemoaning the fact that I’d ended the brother of a complete psycho who will be gunning for us, but now you want to take the fight to them?”

“What can I say,” I shrugged, all nonchalant. “I’m whimsical.”

“This isn’t a storybook tale about good versus evil, light versus dark, and all that bullshit. This is real fucking life.”

“And they’re real people, suffering under a fucking sadistic tyrant,” I snapped back. “For all we know, we’re the only people anywhere near here that can do anything about it!”

“Forty, you said,” replied Nate, remaining infuriatingly calm in the hurricane blast of my outrage. “Forty, Erin. A fifty-two year-old veteran who finds new ways to grunt and groan as