Toward the Brink The Complete Set: The Apocalyptic Survival Thriller: Books 1 -5 by Craig McDonough

Author:Craig McDonough [McDonough, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-27T07:00:00+00:00

Elliot, Tristan, and Ted converged on the door of the first hanger ten minutes later. It was a good slog at a double-time pace along the length of the runway and through the lush, green grass between the two main strips.

“We go in, check for chopper fuel. If there’s none, we move onto the next hangar, right?”

There were only two hangars. Whether they found fuel or not, this wouldn’t take long. With no tankers or fuel pumps openly visible, they would have to look for stored drums of helicopter fuel. They didn’t know if any would be available inside the hangars, but that was the only place to look.

The creak of the metal door echoed through the dark—and empty—hangar.

“Elliot, did you bring a flashlight?” Tristan asked.

“No, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Don’t look at me!” Ted said when the two turned around.

“All right, all right. Let's just wait here until our eyes adjust to the dark,” Tristan expressed in a hushed voice. The light from the open door only cast a few yards inside the hangar. Everywhere else was darker than a moonless night. With the dark came the unknown, and with the unknown…

Fear.

“Did you hear that?” Elliot asked the other two.

“What, I didn’t—”

“Shh. Listen!” Elliot said impatiently.

Silence.

Slowly, a low, stretched-out growl, sounded in the dark of the hangar. Inside, in here—with them.

“A dog. There’s a dog in here.”

“That's no fucking—”

A heavy, metallic clang resonated throughout the hangar moments later and a series of vicious snarls erupted as the predators acquired the scent of their prey. Footsteps echoed through the steel and concrete building as they smacked and slapped against the hard floor of the hangar, getting louder as they got nearer.

“FUCKING FOAMERS!” Elliot yelled.

In an instant, Elliot, Tristan, and Ted were out the door and back into sunlight and safety. So they thought.

Inside the hangar, foamers—dozens of them—were now closer to the open doorway.

“Let's get back to the chopper. Just in case the fuckers forget they don’t like the sun.” Tristan cocked his AR-15, as did the others.

“Let's just get back, period.”

“I’m with you, Elliot,” Ted said.

All three signaled with a wave to the chopper and when twenty or so yards from the hangar, they slowed to an even step.

“We should be okay now—”

A handful of foamers braved the daylight, then more followed. Daylight was no longer an ally to the living.

“Holy shit. They’re coming outside!” Ted raised his weapon.

“Never mind that, we don’t have time, just haul ass. Go, go, fucking go!” Elliot grabbed Ted by the arm and tugged.

“Shit! There’s more of ’em. I didn’t think they came out in the daylight?” Tristan’s main experience with foamers was the night he landed in Prince George on the C-17 and the attack at Sandspit. Both nighttime affairs. Ted had come in with Tristan.

Elliot had the most experience. He was there from the start and apart from a few that appeared in daylight hours on that first day, all foamer activity had been confined to after the sun had gone down.

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