Stage 3 | Book 1 | Stage 3 by Stark Ken

Author:Stark, Ken [Stark, Ken]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Published: 2021-05-09T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

XIII

The face behind the gun was unremarkable. It was young and clean-shaven below a crest of heavily gelled, dirty-blond hair. High cheek bones. Aquiline nose. Unexceptional brown eyes. It was ordinary. Plain, even. In every way, the face was entirely average and commonplace save for one feature; a pair of permanently arched eyebrows that lent the face a bemused aspect, as if the young punk behind them saw the whole world as something of a joke.

The gun, though. The gun was as serious as it got.

Mason’s immediate reaction was to swat the thing away and make the punk eat it, but he could hardly afford to be so cavalier. Mackenzie was in his arms, and he was on his knees. Hardly a position of strength. He could toss the girl aside and make the attempt anyway, but doing so would take a precious second he would never have. The gun in the kid’s hand was a nine-millimetre automatic. Even an amateur would be able to get off half a dozen wildly aimed shots before he could ever get Mackenzie clear, and it didn’t take more than a quick look around to see that this kid was no amateur.

As he’d thought, the place was a restaurant. One of those fashionable little eateries with a front facade entirely of bevelled glass, and a narrow slice of the sidewalk beyond sectioned off as a patio. Inside was all hardwood floors, quaint little tables covered in linen, and artwork that looked like they’d come from a spray can. Nearby, the body of a man in a shirt and tie lay slumped over one of those quaint little tables as if he’d fallen asleep. Beyond him, the corpse of a young man in a leather jacket lay crumpled beneath an oversized painting of a darkened cityscape recently tarnished with a garish splash of red. And against the glass facade, the naked remains of a woman lay sprawled atop a tangle of soiled linen and torn clothing.

That those bodies were the kid’s handiwork was obvious, but had it been self-defence, or had a more sinister scenario played itself out in this out-of-the-way little bistro? The otherwise unremarkable condition of the man in the leather jacket was suggestive. The odd placement of the man asleep in a pool of his own blood may only have been indicative. The woman, though. The naked body of the woman prostrate on a makeshift bed of soiled linen and torn clothing. That was pretty fucking conclusive.

This fashionable little eatery wasn’t a sanctuary at all. It was a killing field.

Christ! Out of the fire and into another goddam fire...

Mason displayed no emotion as he viewed the carnage, nor did he betray his anxiety when he turned back to the young man holding the gun between his eyes. He remained outwardly unperturbed, and even offered a humble flag of truce.

“We’re not infected,” he said calmly, hoping either his tone or his words might ameliorate the situation.

The kid grinned stupidly and shook his head ponderously.

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