After The Purge, AKA John Smith (Book 3): Shoot Last by Sisavath Sam

Author:Sisavath, Sam [Sisavath, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Horror | Infected
Publisher: Road To Babylon Media LLC
Published: 2020-04-16T16:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

I’ll figure something out, he had said to Mary.

How, was the question.

Or an even better question was, where did he begin?

He was locked away inside an underground prison, as far as he could tell, with no way out. The only path was sealed tight from the other side, and he didn’t have anything even resembling a weapon to work with. There was nothing inside the big room except the clothes they were wearing. Hell, they’d even taken his boots for whatever reason, something he hadn’t noticed until now. (Though they’d left his socks, which he guessed he should be grateful for, if nothing else.)

Smith was up the proverbial creek without a paddle. Worse, he couldn’t even see the creek and didn’t know how long it stretched, or how wide. He was being pushed around blind, and all he could do was adapt to the situation as problems arose.

So he sat with Mary and the others, plotting his next move. Which was…not much. He had to get out of here, that much was clear. He couldn’t allow them to subject Mary to their “reeducation.” Smith had a feeling that involved the cage in the other room, along with the ghoul, which was no doubt still alive.

Over my dead body.

Then: Famous last words.

Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have had that thought. It wasn’t like he could stop Gruff and Not-So-Gruff (or whatever their real names were) when they came to get Mary. He was unarmed and still wobbly on his feet, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could take on either one of their captors mano-a-mano. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could take on any of the women in the room! One of Smith’s problems was that he’d always been so good with a gun—scarily good, according to his mentor—that he hadn’t developed any real hand-to-hand fighting skills. Sure, he’d had the same combat training during Black Tide’s Basic Training like everyone else, but he’d never really absorbed what he’d been told. He didn’t have to because of his proficiency with a firearm.

Now, thinking about all those classes and lessons, he wished he’d paid closer attention.

Another thing you shoulda done better.

One of many, as it turned out.

So he didn’t have very much to do but sit and wait with Mary and the others. Or just Mary, because as far as Smith could tell, the other four women were sound asleep. He didn’t blame them; from his internal calculations, it had to be almost morning now, or damn near close to it. If he’d had a window, he could have confirmed that theory. Heck, if he had a window, he could have tried to crawl out.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t…

Mary, like him, couldn’t sleep. The other women had no such trouble, and Smith could hear them snoring away. Even the sisters, whose names Mary didn’t know—because they were either too shy or suspicious to talk to her when she arrived—were huddled in their own corner. The young one, who had been here the longest, hadn’t moved from her spot.

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