Mercury Striking by Zanetti Rebecca

Author:Zanetti, Rebecca [Zanetti, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781472237583
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2016-01-25T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Monsters are among us, inside us, around us. It is statistically impossible for them to lose every battle . . . or even every war.

—Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony

The rain continued to batter the earth, and only the lightning periodically piercing the cloud cover lit the way through the inner city as they searched for the missing scavengers.

Broken and empty buildings lined their way until they reached the warehouse district. The smell of the ocean, salty and briny, filled the air.

Jax kept low to the chipped concrete, his baseball hat shielding his face, his bulletproof vest hopefully protecting his chest. He’d been shot more than once, and at some point, the vest would just fail. He reached the south side of a building on the planned scavenger list for the night and put his back to it.

Wyatt appeared next to him, his breath panting out. “We need more vests.”

They needed more of everything. “We’re sure this was one of the scheduled locations tonight?” Jax asked.

Wyatt gulped in air. “Yes. We sent a team to scout this area of the warehouse park, looking for anything. Preferably fuel and food. Guns and ammo. Per usual.”

The team hadn’t returned by the appointed time, so Jax had ordered sets of two out to the known targets. “I don’t like sending kids out, Wyatt.”

Wyatt nodded. “Pete and Laurie are eighteen, but I get what you’re saying. Have you met them?”

Jax peered around the corner at the entrance to the warehouse. “Sure.”

“Yeah? What’s Pete’s last name? His story?” Wyatt asked.

Jax slowly turned to eye his friend. “Why would I know?”

“Exactly.” Wyatt cocked his gun and straightened his shoulders.

Jesus. Not Wyatt, too. “I’m sorry. Am I supposed to sit down with everybody in our little montage of a community and share? Bond?” Fuck. Jax was doing his best to keep everyone alive. He didn’t have time to get to know more than five hundred people.

Wyatt lifted a Super Bowl–sized shoulder. “Why not?”

A clatter echoed inside the medium sized metal building.

Jax froze. “We go in fast and hard.”

“Copy that.”

Jax jogged around the building, bunched, and kicked the door in square. It flew open, and he ran, gun sweeping out. A man in a ripped gray suit turned, his fingers wrapped in the long blond hair of a severed head, his mouth covered in blood. He chewed and lifted the head to his mouth again.

Holy fuck. Bile rippled up Jax’s throat, and he swallowed ruthlessly. Lifting his gun, he fired three shots between the eyes.

The Ripper fell back into several barrels, sending them scattering. More barrels scattered around the nearly empty metal building, and water dripped somewhere in the back.

Wyatt leaned over at his side, puking onto the concrete floor.

Shit. The blond was Laurie. Her headless corpse lay at an odd angle, half hidden by more barrels.

Jax shut down and jogged toward the nightmarish scene. He kicked the Ripper, who rolled over onto his back, eyes unseeing and dead. Blood coated the ground, adding the smell of copper to the stench of unwashed flesh and death.

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