In The End Box Set | Books 1-3 Stevens, GJ (story books to read TXT) 📖

door with my hands still at my ears, I fought to get my shoulder tight so I could see around the angle.

The black-armoured back of a man came into view, his shoulders tense as he stood ready, but I couldn’t tell what he held. Others unseen shouted and screamed, barking instructions near impossible to hear over the deafening din.

The door mechanism cracked and by instinct I pushed, but it was only an echo through the metal, not my door opening.

A slap of metal reverberated in the corridor, sending a shock wave through the wall, the man spilling backward, his feet tripping as the armoured figure stumbled to the ground.

The scream relented, replaced with a barrage of gunfire; round after round from automatic rifles.

My ears felt stripped back. The drums exposed. The bullets blasting off every surface, men screaming and the high-pitched zing of metal against metal.

Soon the chaos receded and I saw no movement in my narrow angle, just the light haze of smoke and the spray of blood up the walls. Whatever had issued the screams, however many there were, they’d won the battle and from the light pad of feet, the victors did not wear heavy boots.

Still, I peered out as my ears relaxed and took in the view as wide-eyed as I could, whilst trying not to remember the hunger in my belly which had hidden by the terror of the wail.

Peering out, a face shot up at the window, blocking most of the light and sending me backwards as I struggled to keep my balance.

Dan screamed and the face at the window erupted with a noise so high I thought the reinforced glass would cave and pelt us with clear shrapnel. The whites of his eyes were deep red and sunken and locked on to Dan at my side, the skin on his forehead missing. Beside dark patches of blood, I saw the white of his skull.

He reared forward, but the glass stayed intact to leave only a dark, sticky film on the window each time he pulled away, only to smash his head again.

The air pressure changed; distant boots ran on the tiled floor. Shots leapt out and I stumbled further until my back was against the wall.

The face had gone and the cell lit again, but between the scrape of lead running down the walls and the bang of each gunshot, I could hear the wail losing volume.

I looked to Dan curled in a ball on the bed, but I couldn’t comfort him; the temptation brought tears as I fought the urge and the question burning my senses.

What had they done to me?

All was soon quiet again, the cell bright from the lights in the corridor. I closed my eyes, pushed my hand on my mouth, but still the scent licked at my nose, the sweet taste dancing on my tongue.

I took a step forward, a step closer to the bed. Perhaps it was for the best.

Dan lay ruined, gently sobbing in the foetal position.

Perhaps it was the right thing to do to put him out of his misery and do the deed I knew would fill the aching cavern inside me.

But what was the noise I could hear from the corridor?

It was a sound I’d heard before. The slight cry of a child, but it wasn’t from a kid.

The rupture of terror filled the air with a feral scream as my hands pushed again to my ears.

I barely noticed the second call soon adding to the chorus; barely noticed the third and the fourth.

My ears could take no more pain. One thought remained.

There was only one way this could get worse.

As if by command, the lights in the corridor went dark and with a snap, the locks released their heavy steel doors.

Our door relaxed open and the din magnified, searing through my brain.

8

With a collective breath, the pained echoes died away. My hands held out to the wall, hoping to keep upright. As my head rolled from side-to-side, movement in the corridor shifted.

I heard the change in mood as clear as if I’d watched from above.

Footsteps. Bare feet padding, stalking with a single aim; slow and cautious in the dark.

I turned to Dan, still on the bed. Listened to his desperate low whimper. Listened to the thoughtless steps outside, each in time with his low, self-destructive cry.

I moved, keeping my feet slow. Outside theirs were quickening and I pulled Dan reluctantly to his feet. His eyes were so wide, his weight nearly empty as I pushed him against the wall.

I could almost see the shadows in the gap as I leant against him with my back, a foreign instinct holding my arms out wide to shield him from their arrival.

But they didn’t come. All I saw was a shadow pass the door. A figure bent low. There and gone in a flash, right before a confusion of scents caught me from the corridor.

Gunfire burst out, tiny flashes lighting the corridor for an instant. Each peppered with a riot of movement.

Screams ripped again through the loud bangs. Dan grabbed around my waist, holding me tight as he sobbed.

The chaos was soon out of the corridor. Soon beyond the far door, echoing further away, leaving just the two of us behind.

I hoped.

The lights in the corridor flickered on and I jumped out of Dan’s grasp. A breath unbidden pulled into my lungs. Dan’s smell wafted all around and I turned, wide-eyed, a painful emptiness raking at my insides.

Dan looked up and I closed my mouth. He stood watching my silhouette as I backed up to the doorway. I wondered if he could tell I was weighing up if I should take this last chance to kill the pain. To take his life. To fight against