The Road Sharks by Clint Hollingsworth

Author:Clint Hollingsworth [Hollingsworth, Clint]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction-Post Apocalyptic
Amazon: B016COT5BC
Publisher: Icicle Ridge Graphics
Published: 2015-11-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

What Just Happened?

****

“Why, of course, my dear, I in no way wish to rush…”

Shell stopped his urbane and gentlemanly reply to his captive when he realized that he, once again, had lost her attention to Grogan’s Neanderthal pawing. Fury boiled up as he realized the idiot was directly disobeying his orders yet again. Perhaps some soldiers were simply too stupid to be worth keeping around and feeding.

Shell gestured at the cretin. “Cord, if you please, would you mind kicking the living shit out of this imbecile, please?”

As the dark haired man stepped from the wall again, things went strange.

He saw her flex her feet for a moment then Shell heard a popping sound, like one might hear when ligaments were over-stretched, come from her hands. Immediately afterward, the woman fell to the floor. She landed on all fours, her head lower than her butt, which was aimed towards Grogan. The man’s face changed from a blank hypnotized stare to the look of a man who had died and gone to heaven.

Heaven however, was not what he received, quite the opposite.

Looking over her left shoulder, the black haired woman’s foot lashed up and straight out into some kind of karate mule kick and her heel impacted Grogan’s crotch so hard that Shell was sure he heard the man’s testicles squish from ten feet away. The imbecile went up and over backwards, making the sound a pig makes when it knows it’s about to have its throat cut and he landed hard. Grogan went into the fetal position instantly, rocking and screaming.

As everyone else in the room, men normally accustomed to violence from other men, stood and gaped, she grabbed the knife from Porter’s belt with her one still bound hand and ran the edge along the inside of his thigh. The blade was very sharp and it bit deep. Blood spewed from the inner arteries of his leg and Porter screamed, and went down.

Hands dropped to gun belts as she leapt from the floor onto Shell’s desk into a coiled crouch, and Shell vaguely noted that neither of her hands were now tied. She cocked back the arm holding the huge knife, and Shell realized she was about to throw it right between his eyes from a distance of a few feet.

“Wait!” he screamed as the shining flash of steel spun towards him. “No!”

The wind next to his ear as he involuntarily jerked his head away gave him the realization she hadn’t thrown her knife at him. She sent it spinning into the floor-to-ceiling plate glass window he’d spent so many hours looking out of. The glass exploded out over the street and dead cars below.

Shell turned back to his desk to see the woman launch herself at him, much like a mountain lion would. Her strong hands grabbed his collar and a half second later her feet jammed into his stomach. He tried to keep his balance, but the momentum carried them both backwards. His arms windmilling, he heard a shot ring out and something hot burned the side of his neck.

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