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

youngest of the four had always idolised his hero soldier brother. Connor’s death had hit the boy hard.

“That mother fucker out there killed Connor,” hissed Bancroft. “And you want to trust him?”

“Soldiers die in war,” said Nate from beyond the door. “Every death has been regrettable, but you turned a Taliban-fighting hero into a criminal and a killer. All the deaths are on your head, Bancroft. All you had to do was leave us be.”

“Shut the fuck up!” roared Jamie again, the grip on his temper loosening. “You shut the fuck up!”

Then the loud-mouthed little bitch stuck her nose in.

“What made you this angry, Jamie?” she piped. “Were you somehow conceived by anal sex? There’s no way being this much of a fucking asshole is natural.”

Bancroft roared, lifting the revolver and blasting the remainder of the door to splinters, filling the room with a cacophony of thunder from the boom of the gun. The .357 was still pointed at the splintered mess in the doorway when a shadow beyond moved into sight. The crack of a rifle was followed by an explosive burst of agony in his right shoulder.

The gun dropped from nerveless fingers as he tumbled backwards, and Charlie burst from his grip to leap into his father’s embrace.

Chantelle screamed and raced to him, sweeping up the fallen magnum and turning towards the doorway, but she was too slow. The old man’s rifle cracked twice more, putting one bullet in her chest, then one in the head. She dropped like a stone.

In the glow of a flashlight, Bancroft saw Caleb fumbling with the Glock in his hand, almost dropping it as tears streamed down his face.

“Don’t do it kid,” ordered Nate, though Caleb seemed not to hear him, the gun still a tangled mess in his awkward hands.

He was terrified, his mind addled as he fumbled for a solid grip.

“Please, Caleb, don’t make me do this,” pleaded the old man again.

The weapon finally came to rest in his hands and the boy looked up, his eyes wild.

“Don’t fucking do it!” Nate demanded, his voice rising, but the gun started to lift. “God damn it!” roared the old soldier as he squeezed the trigger.

Caleb’s legs collapsed as the round punched his chest, Glock falling from lifeless hands.

“God damn it, kid!” Nate sounded genuinely pained. “God damn you and your fucking stupidity!”

Nate lifted the NVG’s, heart like a brick in his chest. The boy had been terrified beyond all reason, immune to the veteran’s pleas for calm. He steeled himself and cracked a second round to prevent the boy’s reanimation in the darkened library, before turning his attention to Bancroft on the ground.

The man was in agony, eyes darting between the motionless corpses of his wife and brother, one hand clamped to his ruined shoulder as blood poured from between his fingers.

“Murderous old cunt,” he accused through his teeth. “He was just a kid.”

“You put that gun in his hand, Bancroft,” replied Nate, his chest hollow. “I gave him a chance to put it down, but all you Bancrofts’ don’t seem to have any sense in your thick heads.”

“Fuck you.”

Nate sighed, slinging the rifle to his hip. He smoothly palmed his Glock and absently cocked the slide out of habit.

“I’d have you patched up, but what’s the point? You’re rotten to the core, Bancroft. If I let you live, you’ll just cause pain to someone else, or make revenge your only thought.”

“You’re fucking right I will.”

“Everyone out,” Nate said to the room. None needed to be told twice and the six captives scrambled out of the room towards Erin in the hallway.

Once they were clear, Nate turned his gaze down to the wounded man, amazed at the hate still burning in his eyes.

“I’ll fuc…”

He never got to finish the sentence. The moment he began speaking, Nate pointed the Glock at his face and obliterated it with a single pull of the trigger.

It was done. King Shit of Turd Mountain had been deposed, and now, finally, there was a chance for peace from the living.

Only the dead remained.

PART 5

BEYOND THE GATE

August 26th, 2010

THE FALL OF TURD MOUNTAIN

Holy shit, the last few days have been crazy. I haven’t been able to write a damn thing because there’s just been so much to do, so many new faces to settle in.

Yeah, new faces. Seven of them in total. I’ll go through them all in my next entry. I realise I haven’t recorded what happened at Turd Mountain and I should, what with us being victorious and such.

Actually, that’s not wholly true.

It was a pyrrhic victory, because we saved seven lives, but lost too many more. We couldn’t have done anything about those, but they still cut deep.

Nate and I went out the night of the 22nd and from the get-go, it was bad news. When we heard Bancroft over the radio execute two of the women and threaten to take a few more, he made good on that oath. There were ten bodies sat against the wall of his front gate, five either side, displayed like some crazed Madame Tussauds exhibition. Ten of them.

Of the twelve women he was holding captive to be used and abused by his henchmen, only two were left alive. Thankfully, we have both of them with us now, but as you can imagine, they are seriously messed up. Shit, who wouldn’t be? I came within a hair’s breadth of that awful fate myself when that freak of a farmer captured me, but I got extremely lucky that Nate turned up when he did. Those two women suffered beyond my ability to imagine. I can remember my own terror when I thought I was going to be raped; these two women have suffered consistent and repeated assault.

I won’t cry for the men who abused them. The world is a better place without them in it. I’ll save my tears for those more deserving.

Anyway, my thoughts immediately switched to Mark’s son,