The Last War Box Set, Vol. 2 [Books 5-7] by Schow Ryan

Author:Schow, Ryan [Schow, Ryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | EMP | Survival
Publisher: River City Publishing
Published: 2018-09-03T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty

The President slept light. The anxiousness pulled at him. Filled his head with nightmares that had him sweating through his clothes. Twice he woke crying because he missed his wife. His girls. When he woke for good just before sunrise, he didn’t go back to sleep. His face itched with even more beard growth and his eyes were red, dry and raw. He sat up, sliding his feet over the edge of the couch.

Why in God’s name did he have to live when they died?

Rubbing his face, thinking God had other plans for him, he looked over at Miles who was asleep on the couch adjacent to him. How did he expect to live through all this? Snoring not five feet from him was the architect of part of this diabolical plan.

Why did Miles get to live when so many others couldn’t? Millions would die from this. Hundreds of millions. Billions if this thing went global.

He stood, stared down at the man.

Why?

The fire that burned in his stomach gathered strength. His hands became fists at his side, his eyes adjusting to the light. So many things were happening in that moment. Bombs were being dropped inside his heart, infernos were raging in his head and he was seeing all the terrible things he was about to do this man.

The first bomb went off: Traitor to his country. The second bomb hit: Traitor to humanity. The third bomb: His family.

When the fists started dropping, he couldn’t get them to stop. The squirming, frantic man tried to fend off the President, but Ben was not the man his voters and constituents thought he was. So each punch was purposeful, unrelenting, devastating.

Skin opened up, blood went everywhere, grunts mixed with yelps and cries of pain and Miles’s non-stop pleading filled the room with the sounds of terror. Ben’s rage ran its course, the final stores of this brutal expenditure of energy.

So lost was he in his frenzy of remorse and loss and vengeance that at first he didn’t hear that voice—the little voice in the back of his head, the one he nearly refused to listen to that was telling him enough was enough.

It wasn’t.

To beat the man to death who killed humanity was something he’d certainly have to answer for at the Pearly Gates, but it was something Ben had no problem with.

As he saw the mess he was creating, he stopped. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill this man, and not because he was physically drained. Miles was now loosely curled into the fetal position, for he was so broken and so weak he couldn’t even cower anymore. He’d given in to his fate. He accepted death. It would not be that easy, though. If anything, Ben wanted him to live with the things he’d done.

Hunched over his former colleague, his chest rising and falling too fast with exertion, spittle and hatred oozed out of his eyes and pores, and he forced silent a million hateful curses. He stood to a sore lower back and staggered backwards.

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