End Days Super Boxset (85 page)

Greg pulled the wire out of the trip-alarm buzzers and went back to the window, crouched and waiting. If the sentry traps were tripped, he knew it meant that they were right on his doorstep. Everything went silent again but for the sounds of footsteps running about in his yard. The dark figures moved quickly. Then suddenly there wasn't a soul in sight. They had vanished.

Jake leaned against the back of Greg's van, carefully out of sight with the rest of his gang, breathing heavily and flustered by the tripwire traps they had encountered.

“What the hell was all that about, Jake?” Josh asked.

“I don't know,” Jake said, coughing. “But I have a good mind to say that there's people in this house.”

“Well, shit, let's keep moving then. It’s too risky.”

Suddenly Jake grabbed Josh by the neck and threw him against the back of the van, practically denting the metal.

“Any house worth defending must have some stuff inside worth taking,” he seethed. “I don't care who's in there, we're going in.” He released his grip, causing Josh to nearly fall to his knees, gasping for air.

“Well they know we're here by now, that's for sure,” Pete said. “Who's gonna lead us in?”

Fernando and Juan looked at each other and muttered in Spanish.

Jake carefully surveyed the house from behind the van. The motion lights were shining down from various angles on the roof, but he couldn't see a single light on inside as most of the windows were boarded. They hadn't encountered a house like this one before. Near the front door were “Beware of Dog” and “Owner is Armed and Dangerous” warning signs. There was also a sign in the front yard that said, “This House is armed with Red Light Security.” Jake noticed that the van they were leaning against was from the same alarm system company.

He turned to his gang. “We're going to have to work together on this one. Fernando and Juan, you hop the fence and go in the back way. Josh, right bedroom window. Pete, you help me at the front door with that crowbar. We'll all meet in the middle. But before that, stay on your toes. Something tells me that this ain't no ordinary run-of-the-mil friendly neighborhood watchman.”

The gang nodded enthusiastically as Josh rubbed his sore neck. Jake gave one last order. “Shoot to kill, okay? Don't take no chances in there. I can assure you they won't take chances with you. Now let's move!”

They immediately dispersed, running in different directions. Jake and Pete hurried to the front door, setting off the sentry trap, resulting in a startling mini-blast like that of a gunshot. The blank .22 rounds had done the trick nicely.

They immediately hit the concrete walkway in a panic. Josh was halfway to the bedroom window when he took a direct shot to the chest from the living room window. The force took him down immediately, and his body went limp before he even hit the grass. Juan and Fernando ran to the backyard fence after hearing the shot, tossing themselves against the wooden pickets in a panic.

Jake and Pete remained on the ground, just slightly out of Greg's line of fire.

“Shit, what do we do?” Pete said, his voice trembling.

“Stay down!” Jake ordered. He could see Juan and Fernando hiding on the side of the house. Josh's body lay in the grass behind them, and it was still hard to find where the shot had come from. In front of them were tall bushes and a living room window concealed by dark curtains. Another window was to its side, completely boarded up and nailed in from the outside. The men were further rattled when another shot rang out, hitting the ground near them. Lying flat on his stomach, Jake called to the men on the side of the house in a hushed but commanding voice.

“Fernando! Juan! Get yer’ asses over that fence. We got a shooter at the front!”

They rose, nodded, and scaled the wooden backyard fence, jumping over with ease. They hit the dry grass of Greg's back yard and continued to the back door. They could hear a dog barking and hesitated for a moment to see if he was anywhere near.

In the house, Greg remained at his position. The motion lights illuminated the yard but allowed Jake and Pete to remain concealed in the shadows. They were a mere five feet from the door, but a single movement would expose them. Greg controlled his breathing and kept his finger steady on the trigger and the barrel pointing out the window. Captain barked from the bedroom, increasing Greg's suspicions. Someone was in the back yard. They had made it over the fence.

Fernando and Juan continued past the boarded-up window of Greg's room and went straight to the back door with their crowbars readied. The kitchen window looked too small to climb through, and they were confident they could bust the door open. Along the way, they unknowingly set off a series of trip flares, sending them scrambling. The flares, attached to the base of several small maple trees, shot out a series of brightly colored bursts, immediately alerting Greg to their presence. They nearly stumbled over each other to get to the back door and break it in before it was too late.

Upon seeing the light of the flares, Greg crouched down and ran to the kitchen window and cracked it open just enough to stick his rifle through. He looked to his right and saw two men at the back door as the flares began to die down. He swiftly aimed to his side and fired, taking out Juan in a single shot that split his head open, splattering brain matter over Fernando.

Juan collapsed on the ground as Fernando drew his weapon, still in a state of shock. He was just out of reach at the back door, and Greg couldn't get a shot off. He signaled to Veronica. She looked over at him as he waved.

“Aim above the peephole,” he said with his rifle still pointed outside. He could see Fernando’s moving shadow by the door.

Veronica hesitated.

“Do it!” he shouted.

She aimed steadily at the back door, near the peephole, and fired. A small chunk of wood exploded out of the door as the bullet blasted through and blew apart Fernando's face in jagged fragments. He fell to the ground on his back, dead as Dillinger.

Greg went back to the kitchen window and carefully peeked out with his rifle aimed. He saw no movement in the shadows, only two dead bodies lying the light of his backyard motion detectors. He turned to Veronica and gave her the thumbs-up, knowing, however, that there were more.

Without a moment's notice, a series of kicks erupted onto the thick metal surface of the front door, shaking it from the frame. Greg turned quickly to the living room, dropped to the hardwood floor, and rolled to the coffee table in the middle of living room. Back on his feet, he crouched down near the coffee table, aiming his rifle.

Having little luck with kicking the door in, the intruders resorted to prying it open with a crowbar. Captain continued barking from the other bedroom, clawing at the door. Greg was about to fire, when the door split open at the frame like a cracked watermelon, flying open.

He pulled the trigger and shot at the door, when suddenly Pete burst in, firing his shotgun into the air. The spray of pellets went up into the ceiling, narrowly missing Greg as he rolled to the side. In mid-movement, he lost his grip on his rifle and dropped it.

Pete rushed in to finish the job, startled to see a man in a full HAZMAT suit, which Greg took full advantage of. He leapt against the wall and pushed himself off into the air with his feet while plunging the blade of his thick Ka-Bar directly into Pete's thorax. As Greg landed, Pete dropped like a wet towel, gargling blood through his open mouth.

“Quick, toss me the shotgun!” Greg shouted to Veronica as he crouched near the front door, knife in hand. She quickly crawled from her position, picked up Pete's shotgun where it had fallen, and tossed it to Greg. He immediately aimed outside the door and fired blast after blast in rapid succession. Silence followed, save for the ringing in their ears from all the gunfire.

“There,” he said. “That oughta do it.” He tossed Pete's shotgun aside after emptying it and grabbed his own shotgun from the nearby coffee table.

Veronica didn't know what to say. She had never thought that Greg could pull off acrobatic moves like the one he did on Pete. She stared at Pete's twitching body as blood oozed from the open wound on his neck. Greg turned to her, his shotgun still aimed outside.

“I wanted to reduce the blood splatter,” he said, breathing heavily, his voice muffled by his mask. “That's why I used my knife. Guess I kind of messed that one up though. That was good shooting on your part.”

“Thanks.”

Greg then turned back to the swaying front door, certain that there was one more to take care of.

The last one may have gotten scared and run off, but Greg's instincts told him better. It was strange that all the gunfire hadn't brought a single siren to their neighborhood. Greg signaled to Veronica to remain calm as he held his position. He could sense someone close, and he was ready to end the entire ordeal once and for all.

The assault had been bad for the intruders. Dead bodies riddled with bullets lay outside the house while Pete bled out in the living room. Greg was upset that one had even managed to get in. He couldn't make the same mistake twice. Empty shells littered the ground, and not a soul was moving.

In a moment of calm, shots suddenly burst through the living room window, shattering the glass into tiny little shards. Several pieces hit the side of Greg's hood, and he immediately went to the ground, flat on his back, to avoid the relentless gunfire. Veronica screamed and took cover behind the bookcase as Greg inched himself toward the wall near the front door. Captain's barking reached its loudest yet.

Greg could then hear the doorknob to his bedroom turning as his heart seized. Captain was doing it again, using his mouth to turn the door handle. Greg should have known better and locked the door, because Captain was a uniquely intelligent dog. He saw a man’s shadow in the light that beamed into the living room from the open front door, and immediately rose to take a shot.

At that precise moment, Captain stormed down the hall like mad hellfire.

“Captain, no!” Greg shouted.

Veronica shouted as well and tried to get to him before he ran out.

From outside, Jake was poised to ambush Greg from the living room window as Captain bolted out the front door, tackling the man and tearing into his side, shredding the old flak vest he was wearing. Jake fell to the ground screaming as Greg jumped up, shouting at Veronica. “Toss me your piece!”

He threw down his shotgun and caught the pistol. He couldn't fire the shotgun at Jake with Captain on him.

“Just stay there!” Greg yelled to Veronica as he ran outside. Jake was in the grass trying desperately to get Captain off him. His own weapon, lost during Captain’s attack, was sitting near the bushes, too far out of reach. Greg ran toward them, ready to fire a shot into Jake's head, when the he put his massive hands around Captain's neck and broke it with one quick and brutal jerk. Captain yelped and went limp. Greg watched, stricken with horror and disbelief. It didn't seem real.

Jake sat up and threw Captain's body aside. “That's one mean son of a bitch,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “Tell you what, let's call it even for killing my men. How do you like that?” Obviously, he was now at a disadvantage, on the ground wounded and without a weapon.

Greg aimed the gun at Jake and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. The gun clicked, but it was out of rounds. Jake looked up and laughed. Not amused, Greg simply tossed the pistol on the grass, ready to deal with Jake another way.

Veronica peeked out the front door, not sure what had happened. She only knew that, for some odd reason, Greg was standing over the large man in the yard with the pistol on the ground near his feet. Greg, consumed with rage, stared at Jake with both fists balled.

Jake held the wound on his side and tried to get up when Greg vaulted at him in a fury. Jake hit the ground like a rock with Greg on top of him, pummeling his face with savage blows. Jake struggled to defend himself but was knocked delirious by Greg’s rapid blows, making his eyes swell and bloodying his nose. He was almost unrecognizable. Greg shouted the top of his lungs as Veronica ran outside in confusion. He smashed his fists into Jake’s side injuries, directly over the open gashes, when Jake suddenly saw his moment and clutched Greg's hands, pulling him to his side and on the ground.

Veronica stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Captain's body lying in the grass near the two struggling men. She knew immediately that something was deadly wrong. Her body seized, as if someone had just stabbed her in the gut.

“No!” she screamed. Before she could run to Captain, she saw that the men were rolling toward the shotgun resting in the grass. Both men were struggling to get on top of the other, and it looked as if Jake was getting the upper hand, even though his face had been beaten beyond recognition and he was struggling to see. She saw Jake move one hand down his leg and pull out a large knife from an ankle holster. He raised the knife in the air and with lightening strength swung it, only to have Greg grab his arm in a vise-like grip, bending his arm back.

Jake moved on top of Greg, trying to push the blade into his face. Veronica, terrified, grabbed the shotgun and buttstroked Jake on his head. It sounded as though something had cracked. Jake immediately pulled his knife away from Greg and slashed at Veronica. She felt a sudden sharp pain and began screaming. The knife had torn directly through the HAZMAT suit, right over her stomach. She jumped back, clutching the wound as Greg kicked Jake off him, pushing him back on the ground.