End Days Super Boxset (186 page)

Scott jumped out of the car and saw a flickering light in one of the rear windows of the house. He fell to the ground next to Bryce and put both sweaty hands around his coworker’s neck. “Shut up! You just woke them up. You ruined the entire plan. You ruined everything!”

Scott tightened his grip around Bryce’s neck, squeezing until he was sure that Bryce could scream no more. Bryce gripped Scott’s arms and tried to pull him off. Scott pushed his entire body weight down onto Bryce, squeezing and squeezing as Bryce’s face reddened and his eyes bulged. Sweat dripped down from Scott's forehead onto Bryce’s panicked face. His arms shook, and he tightened his grip, countering every movement Bryce made.

“Can’t—can’t breathe,” Bryce said, wheezing. Scott could feel the curvature of the Adam’s apple under his grip. Bryce could feel his windpipe closing in. Without air, he had momentarily forgotten the intolerable pain of his lower leg. He felt lightheaded, and the world was closing in.

“Stay quiet. Keep your mouth shut!” Scott said in a bizarre demand. He squeezed tighter and heard only gurgling sounds in return.

Suddenly, the back door swung open. James ran outside holding his pistol in one hand, and the Kerosene lamp in the other. He carefully placed the lamp down on the steps behind him, and walked forward with steady aim.

“Who’s there?” he shouted in a tired voice.

Scott looked up in a panic and covered Bryce’s mouth with one hand. Bryce kicked and thrashed desperately. Scott dived to the ground, releasing his grip on Bryce’s neck. Bryce rolled under the car, and gasped and heaved as Scott crawled behind the car, searching desperately for an escape route. Bryce finally managed to grip the bear trap on both ends and open its jaws, freeing himself from the pain. He tossed the trap aside the second he pulled it off.

James moved cautiously closer toward the front of the car, after hearing some movement from that direction. The Plymouth's driver's side door was open, and it was hard to see past it. “I hear ya’ scurrying along over there. Come out now, and make yourselves known,” he said, examining the ground below.

He had placed a few bear traps around the house and vehicles for the very reason of home defense. The spot near Mark’s Plymouth was empty, and a thick trail of blood in the grass led directly to the rear of the car. “Wasn’t so easy to be snooping around here was it? How do you like my bear traps?” James shouted out.

From under the car, Bryce attempted to yell out, but his vocal cords were damaged. Scott remained crouched behind the car, searching for a weapon or anything he could fight back with. Suddenly an idea hit him. He peered up over the car and saw James's silhouette moving closer.

“We got you in our cross hairs,” Scott yelled. “Drop your weapon and walk five paces back, or we’ll blow your brains out.”

James steadied his aim in the direction of Scott’s voice. “Who are you? What do you want with us?” he asked, not relinquishing his handgun.

“I told you once already, drop your weapon, or there’s going to be trouble,” Scott said from his carefully concealed position at the hood of the car. “I got five guys here with itchy trigger fingers. All we want is your car. You give us the keys, we’ll leave without a fuss, deal?”

James felt defiant, beyond compromise. “I imagine one of you is in some pretty bad pain right now. Nonetheless, how about you get the hell off my property, and I won’t shoot you? Sound like a deal?”

Bryce attempted to crawl from under the car. “No...” he said faintly. “Don’t do it.”

“You got five seconds, mountain man, five fucking seconds before we light you up,” Scott said in his most commanding voice.

James looked around suspiciously. “I think you’re full of shit,” he said. “Now come out from behind the car before I put one through you.”

“Five seconds, asshole!” Scott shouted. He had neared the end of his bluff.

“Enough of this bullshit,” James said. He aimed and fired a warning shot into the air. Scott fell to the ground in a panic.

“This is your last chance,” James said.

Scott shook as he began to realize the fallacy of his bluff.

“I knew it,” James said. “You don’t have shit.”

“All right! All right,” I'll come out,” Scott said, kneeling behind the car with his hands in the air.

James gripped the pistol tightly and unwavering. He paused a moment, then called out to Scott.

“How many people do you really got back there?” he asked.

“Two. There's only two of us. My friend is badly injured. Your trap got him.”

“I filed it down extra sharp too,” James said. He smiled at the thought. “Who the hell are you, and what do you want?” he asked.

“We're just passing through, honest,” Scott said.

“Don't give me that shit. Now come out from behind the car where I can see you,” James said.

Scott complied and slowly began to rise. He looked down, and whispered to Bryce. “Stay put, I got this.”

Bryce looked up with a look of primal rage. “You crazy son-of-a-bitch. I'll fucking kill you myself,” he grunted.

Scott ignored Bryce, and walked out from behind the car with his hand in the air.

“That's right,” James said. “Keep those hands up and come to me nice and slow, like they say on the police shows.”

It was dark out, but once Scott passed the driver's side door, James began to recognize him. “You,” James said in disbelief. The shock of recognition took James's mind off his trigger finger. From only a few feet away, Scott took immediate opportunity and charged at James with all his strength, pummeling him to the ground.

The pistol flew into the air, landing near their scuffle. Scott was on top of James, and he wasted no time punching James at his sides. Taking him by surprise gave Scott the upper hand. The men grunted and thrashed. James used a lot of his strength to block Scott's facial blows.

“After all we did for you, you try to come back here and rob us?” James shouted.

Straddling James, Scott landed a punch directly in his face. “Keep your bag of nuts and shove 'em up your ass!” Scott said. Spit flew from his mouth with every enraged word. “You turned us away like common beggars! You're no saints!”

James flipped Scott over and the two men rolled on the ground, awkwardly exchanging blows. Scott violently swung in the air, sometimes at nothing, as James scored a direct hit with every punch that he threw. Beaten and bloodied, their brief altercation had exhausted them both. Before long, Scott realized that James's pistol landed nearby. He tried to pull away from James's grip, but suddenly found himself in an uncompromising headlock.

Scott thrashed some more to release himself, as his airway tightened and he couldn't breathe.

“Please...” he said, choking,

The more he struggled, the tighter James pulled. There was no escape.

Bryce emerged from behind the car, managing to stand up on one leg, while dragging the other. He could see the two men fighting, and while the pain on his lower leg was unbearable, he knew that he had to do something. Glistening under the moonlight in the open grass nearby was James's 9mm handgun. Every movement Bryce made was met with an intense rush of pain. His attempts to block out physical agony were futile. His leg had been savaged, and felt like it would never be the same. He fell against the Plymouth and tried to push on, all the way to the engine, where the pistol was only a few yards away, near the fuel storage shed.

James stood up with his arms still locked around Scott's neck. Any minute, and he hoped that Scott would be down for the count. He worried once he saw a figure moving slowly toward him from the car. “Who's there?” James asked. Scott continued to claw and pull at James's thick, hairy arms. “I asked you a question!” he shouted.

“Let him go,” Bryce said in painful breaths. “Let him go and get this damned thing off my leg.” He felt dizzy and faint, and wasn't sure how much longer he could remain standing.

James assumed with the man's movements before him that he was the one who had stepped on the bear trap.

Suddenly, Scott swung his leg back, and kicked James in the groin. The pain was sharp and intense. In response, James swung hard to the right, and tossed Scott backwards into the air with all his might. Scott crashed against the house, and fell to the steps of the back door. He was shaken, and disoriented, but not down for the count.

“There's more where that came from you little prick,” James said defiantly, while approaching him.

“Fuck you,” Scott said, breathing heavily. He looked down and saw the Kerosene lantern James had placed to the ground only moments ago.

Bryce limped towards the fuel shed where the pistol lay in the grass, close within reach. James frantically scanned the area for his pistol, and noticed Bryce hop towards the shed, fall, and then drag himself further to the prize. He grabbed the pistol and pushed himself up. James lunged at him, but Bryce pivoted around on his good leg, pointing the gun right at his aggressor.

“Stop right there!” Bryce said. “Turn around, and put your hands in the air.”

James turned around just as Scott gripped the handle of lantern and launched it at him with full force. James ducked as the lantern flew overhead, missing him by only a few hairs. It struck Bryce, but not before he fired two fatal shots from the pistol into Scott’s chest and skull. His body collapsed on the ground instantly, like a rag doll. Bryce fell to the ground, as his shirt caught fire. The lantern rolled inside the storage shed where the flames of the lantern ignited the puddles of fuel.

Bryce thrashed around in terror as the fire relentlessly spread all over his body. The more he rolled around, the worse it seemed to get, though his hand still tightly gripped the pistol. His screams for help startled James, but of more shock was the sight of Scott’s lifeless body only a few feet in front of him. James looked back to Bryce and saw him thrashing around hysterically. The flames spread all over him in a matter of moments.

James ran to Bryce, pulling along a tarp in hopes of putting him out. In a blind rage, Bryce stood up and stumbled directly into the storage shed. The flames had gotten only worse, consuming Bryce entirely until his convulsions ceased and his tortured and anguished screeching faded into oblivion. His screams would haunt James for some time. He looked at the man's motionless body—burning brightly like a winter log, and suddenly remembered that Bryce was still clutching the pistol. As he backed away from the shed, the ammunition exploded, further spreading the fire to the other fuel cans, causing the shed to go ablaze.

Christina flew from her bed, awakened by gun shots, and a subsequent explosion. She smelled smoke. Something was wrong. As things went quiet, she could hear Paula crying from the next room. It felt like a dream, even too unreal for a dream. Were they actually under attack? Had they gone through all the trouble of fleeing to a bug-out house, only to find it no safer than staying in Atlanta? She didn't have the answers; she only knew that she had to get to Paula.

“Damn it,” she said under her breath. “We should have built a safe room, within the safe house.”

The loud gun shots rang throughout the air. James took a step back to assess the situation. He couldn't comprehend what had happened. There were two dead bodies in this backyard, and he didn't even know how or why. A quick realization came over him once he saw the size of the fire and how quickly it was spreading. He turned around and ran toward the house in hopes of retrieving a fire extinguisher. The fuel cans in the shed were ticking bombs. An internal combustion was unavoidable, as the shed quickly ignited into an incinerating ball reaching high into James’s prized oak tree.

The force of the explosion vaulted James backward against the house, knocking him unconscious in an instant. The fire spread up the oak tree onto its enormous branches both hanging over to the bug-out house, and vehicles. Nothing could stop it. The wind in the air fanned the flames further. Flames drifted over to the roof of the house and a sizable branch, the size of a boat, soon broke off the oak tree and plummeted onto the car and truck below. In moments, the backyard was a deadly wildfire of flames and ash growing deadlier by the minute.

Christina was throwing on some clothes when Mark suddenly banged on her door. “Christina, wake up!” he said. “We have to get out of the house.”

She jumped out of bed and grabbed her bag of clothes, thinking that everything was a dream. Everything was too surreal to possibly be happening. She opened her bedroom door and saw Mark and Janice standing in the hallway with their faces flushed. “I don’t know what happened. There’s a fire outside, and we need to move,” Mark said.

“Paula!” Christina said. “I need to get Paula.” She pushed her way past the couple and down to Paula’s room. As she swung the door open, she saw Paula hiding under the covers crying. “It’s OK, baby, I’m here,” Christina said, approaching her bed. “We need to get out of here. There’s a fire.” Though the fire was in the backyard, the smell of smoke was overwhelming.

“What’s happening?” Paula cried. “I don’t understand.”

“Grab whatever you can, and let’s go,” Christina said, lifting Paula out of bed. She set her down on the floor. “Just think of it like a fire drill in school. We evacuate the building, get our numbers, and make sure everything is OK.”

Paula nodded in agreement and grabbed her suitcase. Christina took her by the hand and led her out of the room. Sheer pandemonium awaited them.