Rescue Mission by Pete Aldin

Author:Pete Aldin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: biker war, slavers, post-apocalyptic, doomsday's child, zombies, Australian apocalpyse
Publisher: Pete Aldin
Published: 2017-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

19:49

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All the buildings on this side are pocked with bullet holes. The first one is empty besides the bunks and some sets of drawers. The second is the same. The third holds a Druid along with three dead slaves. They all bled out from bullet wounds hours ago.

When he opens the door to the fourth, the first thing that hits him is the stench—it's like a convention of undead have gathered and rotted here. But the spike of adrenaline this brings quickly dissipates as his gaze sweeps the room and confirms no pusbags. What is there is a bucket-toilet beneath the window, empty but stained with weeks of use. Also a dead Druid sprawled in front of it with his throat opened and what looks like a dozen puncture wounds to his abdomen. There's an empty sheath on his belt where his knife once dwelled.

Benno? Elliot wonders.

Understandably there's a helluva lot of blood around him; whatever was in his intestines and bowel at the time of his stabbing also seems to have leaked out, accounting for more of the smell. The room is so cramped, it'll be hard for Elliot to avoid stepping in this when he moves inside.

He breathes through his mouth and concentrates on the four double bunks, the only other features in the room. Each bed sports a tether: a set of handcuffs clamped around the frame and connected to five feet of chain with another set of cuffs at the other end for the prisoner's wrist. Six of these tethers swing free from their beds. Only two are actually clamped onto people. Living people.

Alyssa Oussef isn't one of them and Elliot's heart drops into his guts—

Goddamnit.

Evening light streams in through the tinted window, and through a score of bullet holes. Somehow these other two got lucky. Today, anyway.

The woman would be as tall as Elliot if she was standing, possibly taller. She has broad shoulders, a masculine jaw, big hands. He can well imagine her overpowering this Druid, stabbing him with his own knife, releasing weeks of pent up hatred.

The teenage boy is a little older than Lewis, fourteen or fifteen, slight of frame, chewing on his bottom lip and rocking on the edge of his mattress.

"Here to help," he tells them and slings his rifle. He indicates the dead biker. "Not a member, and definitely not a fan."

Slowly the woman nods, relaxing a notch.

Elliot glances at the biker's empty sheath. He tells her, "First I'm gonna need you to chuck the knife in the corner over here. So there's no misunderstandings." He pulls the key ring and jingles it.

"Sure," she says in a flat voice. She turns toward her bunkmate. "Throw away the knife, Jimmy."

Elliot blinks at that. His attention shifts toward the teenager. The young man's face contorts in resistance for a second, two, three, then he reaches behind him for the knife and tosses it onto the furthest top bunk from him. Elliot notices for the first time that Jimmy's hands are streaked with red.

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