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

Shit, the flash of light was brief and bright, but the explosion was skull-jarring, even from my distance. I would not want to be in the immediate vicinity of one of those going off.

Scrambled and confused, the men down the corridor were quickly executed by Nate, and a third bullet to the head of the screaming man with the ruined arm returned the house to virtual quiet.

I caught up with Nate, where he filled me in on Isaac’s excellent assist, then he put down the two dead that were reanimating outside a door at the end of the hall. He couldn’t use a flashbang inside the room because that’s where all the captives were, with Bancroft, his wife, and his youngest brother. It was the endgame, and it seemed Nate’s option was to try and talk to Bancroft.

Flattening us both against a wall, expecting what would come next, Nate started the conversation.

“Evening, Mr. Bancroft.”

Most of the door’s top panel splintered as a thunderous gunshot came from inside the room.

“Fuck you, old man! You come in here and I’ll blow the kid’s head off!”

Well, negotiations had started promisingly.

“All your men are dead, nowhere to go. Let everyone go and you can walk out of here. You have my word.”

Bancroft wasn’t having that, naturally, but Nate pointed out he didn’t really have any other option.

“I could paint the walls with this kid’s brains!”

I don’t always remember exactly what words are exchanged in these conversations, so my recall of them can sometimes be a bit hazy or embellished, but I will not forget a single word of what Nate said next.

“And if you do that, I will come in there like the devil himself, that I can promise you.”

He did it in that colder-than-the-grave voice he has. There’s no anger in it, no heat, no fury, yet somehow that cold burns.

I could hear the change in Bancroft’s voice as he responded again. That mausoleum tone of Nate’s had punctured his bravado. He offered a deal to walk out with Charlie, who he’d then hand over when they were safely in a vehicle. Nate wasn’t having it, citing his grisly display outside the gates as a reason for mistrust.

An argument started inside the room then, with Bancroft telling his brother Caleb to shut his mouth. The youngest sibling sounded terrified and wanted out, and Jamie just berated him, reminding him Nate had killed Connor.

“Soldiers die in war,” Nate said through the door, sensing there was a chance to end this without further violence.

“Shut the fuck up! You shut the fuck up!”

This was getting nowhere, but I could sense Jamie was on the verge of losing it. We needed that anger at us, so he didn’t pull the trigger on little Charlie.

“Get ready,” I whispered to Nate. I love the fact that he didn’t question me, didn’t try to stop me. That trust makes you feel like a million dollars. He just nodded, the NVG’s still concealing the top half of his face. Settling the rifle into his shoulder in readiness, he nodded at me again.

“What made you this angry, Jamie?” I spat through the door, knowing my voice alone would send him over the edge. One extra insult would tip him. “Were you somehow conceived by anal sex? There’s no way being this much of an asshole is natural.”

A strangled cry of rage erupted from his throat and we both flattened against the wall, outside his angle of fire, as he blasted at the door again, shredding it with his dick-compensating hand-cannon.

With the gun no longer pointed at Charlie, Nate swept into view, rifle up, and squeezed off a round which punched through Jamie’s shoulder, spinning him to the ground as the gun fell from nerveless fingers. Then Jamie’s wife ran into the slight glow of a flashlight in the room, hands reaching for his gun as she screamed.

When that light hit her face, I almost laughed. The bitch had so much make-up on she must have had to apply it with a trowel. The light bounced off her thick clown mask, emphasising the mass of insane shades she had used. Honestly, her face looked as though it had been gangbanged by boxes of Crayola.

Nate wasn’t laughing though. As the screaming harridan with boulder-hard fake tits swept up the gun and started to turn, he didn’t hesitate, double-tapping her in the chest and head like a pro.

Both of us stepped through the shattered door into the room. Caleb, probably not even eighteen yet, had a Glock in his hands, desperately fumbling. He was making a complete mess of it, almost dropping it and re-catching it, trying to get a solid hold on the handgun, but making a complete tragedy of the whole situation. Frantically trying to handle the weapon, Caleb was as chaotic and confused as a monkey trying to fuck a football. It was a god-awful mess, and Nate gave him the best chance he could.

“Don’t do it kid,” he said at first, but Caleb didn’t hear him in his blind panic. “Please, Caleb, don’t make me do this!” There was a genuine pleading to Nate’s words, begging the boy to give it up.

Then the handgun steadied, the boy finally achieving a fierce grip in both hands. Caleb’s eyes, wild and unfocused, locked with Nate’s, stark terror etched into every atom of his beardless face.

“Don’t fucking do it!” bellowed Nate, but the gun started to rise. Nate screamed a curse as his bullet smashed into Caleb’s chest. “God damn it!” he roared, pain in every echo of his voice. “God damn you and your fucking stupidity!”

Nate had everyone get out of the room, shouldering the rifle and drawing his Glock as he and the downed Bancroft exchanged some words. The moment everyone was clear of the room, there was no further ceremony. Jamie started to say something else, but Nate silenced him with a single squeeze of the trigger.

And finally, we were free.

We cleared