Which one was it? What if it was someone else? There could be others on base.
With his rifle aimed ahead, Turk remained close to the wall as he moved toward the main road that ran between the buildings. Every few steps, he turned his head ninety degrees, looking to his right and behind.
No one watched. No one followed.
Upon reaching the corner of the building, he stopped and took a deep breath. Any number of scenarios was possible. He wanted to be prepared before exposing himself to them.
Across the road, Baldy lay on a stretch of bleached concrete, in front of an open door. He was surrounded by an expanding pool of blood. His right hand, which hovered over his stomach, twitched wildly. It appeared as though he’d suffered trauma to his abdomen. His face was shredded on one side. A large gash ran from his mouth to his ear.
Another cry for help seemed to originate from within the building.
Mike.
Something else had to be present, too.
Turk could just shut the door. Wouldn’t be that big a waste, right? Mike was a piece of shit hick that nobody would miss. But what about the next poor soul who came along and decided to enter the warehouse in hopes of finding supplies? What kind of surprise would await that guy?
The image of the underground facility in Nigeria flashed through Turk’s mind. Standing above a hole in the floor, looking down on a sea of afflicted. Firing rounds hopelessly, never thinning their ranks. The damned crowded around a cell block where several members of Delta Force awaited their fate.
Turk had been the one to deliver reprieve to the soldiers in the form of death.
Not those soulless bastards.
It didn’t matter who was inside the building. Could be an asshole like Mike, or a close friend. Turk had to do what he could for the person. No one deserved to be eaten alive.
He hurried down the side of the building and then crossed the blacktop. At the corner of the building, he stopped and scanned the surroundings. Behind him, toward the gate, there was no one visible. Same in the opposite direction, where the road led to the water.
Bally continued to groan and cry. From here, Turk made out the man’s throaty pleas for help. Even from a distance, he knew that death was the only salvation for the guy.
Another scream tore through the air. He felt it through his hand, which rested on the corrugated steel exterior. There was no time to waste. The afflicted had attacked. Now, perhaps with them distracted by feeding on Mike, he could end their lives.
Turk angled around the corner. He gave a quick whistle to get Baldy’s attention. The big guy’s grimace spread as he shifted his head to look back at Turk. Turk held up one finger and gave the guy a nod. He tried to keep his gaze from lingering on the hole where most of Mike’s abdomen had been. The wound was mortal. No way around that. After taking care of the afflicted, he’d provide a quick passing for Mike.
The smell emanating from the doorway was that of blood, sweat, and human waste. This was where the people had slept when the base was teeming with survivors. Though it now housed a few men, the smell had remained.
Turk entered and quickly slipped into the shadows. A room barren of interior walls spread before him. In one corner, dozens of cots had been piled. A few were still in the middle of the room, close together. For protection, he assumed.
Next to those cots lay Mike, motionless. His wide eyes stared up at the ceiling. Blood surrounded his head and upper body. His right arm was missing. A large chunk had been taken out of his neck. The wound had obviously severed his carotid artery. If Turk had arrived a few minutes earlier, he’d have seen the final quart of blood pumping out in arterial spray. Now, there was nothing. Mike had passed.
But where were the assailants?
Turk scanned the room. On first pass, he saw nothing. He felt them, though. Their penetrating stares ate through him. If he didn’t find them soon, he was next to
With his rifle aimed ahead, Turk remained close to the wall as he moved toward the main road that ran between the buildings. Every few steps, he turned his head ninety degrees, looking to his right and behind.
No one watched. No one followed.
Upon reaching the corner of the building, he stopped and took a deep breath. Any number of scenarios was possible. He wanted to be prepared before exposing himself to them.
Across the road, Baldy lay on a stretch of bleached concrete, in front of an open door. He was surrounded by an expanding pool of blood. His right hand, which hovered over his stomach, twitched wildly. It appeared as though he’d suffered trauma to his abdomen. His face was shredded on one side. A large gash ran from his mouth to his ear.
Another cry for help seemed to originate from within the building.
Mike.
Something else had to be present, too.
Turk could just shut the door. Wouldn’t be that big a waste, right? Mike was a piece of shit hick that nobody would miss. But what about the next poor soul who came along and decided to enter the warehouse in hopes of finding supplies? What kind of surprise would await that guy?
The image of the underground facility in Nigeria flashed through Turk’s mind. Standing above a hole in the floor, looking down on a sea of afflicted. Firing rounds hopelessly, never thinning their ranks. The damned crowded around a cell block where several members of Delta Force awaited their fate.
Turk had been the one to deliver reprieve to the soldiers in the form of death.
Not those soulless bastards.
It didn’t matter who was inside the building. Could be an asshole like Mike, or a close friend. Turk had to do what he could for the person. No one deserved to be eaten alive.
He hurried down the side of the building and then crossed the blacktop. At the corner of the building, he stopped and scanned the surroundings. Behind him, toward the gate, there was no one visible. Same in the opposite direction, where the road led to the water.
Bally continued to groan and cry. From here, Turk made out the man’s throaty pleas for help. Even from a distance, he knew that death was the only salvation for the guy.
Another scream tore through the air. He felt it through his hand, which rested on the corrugated steel exterior. There was no time to waste. The afflicted had attacked. Now, perhaps with them distracted by feeding on Mike, he could end their lives.
Turk angled around the corner. He gave a quick whistle to get Baldy’s attention. The big guy’s grimace spread as he shifted his head to look back at Turk. Turk held up one finger and gave the guy a nod. He tried to keep his gaze from lingering on the hole where most of Mike’s abdomen had been. The wound was mortal. No way around that. After taking care of the afflicted, he’d provide a quick passing for Mike.
The smell emanating from the doorway was that of blood, sweat, and human waste. This was where the people had slept when the base was teeming with survivors. Though it now housed a few men, the smell had remained.
Turk entered and quickly slipped into the shadows. A room barren of interior walls spread before him. In one corner, dozens of cots had been piled. A few were still in the middle of the room, close together. For protection, he assumed.
Next to those cots lay Mike, motionless. His wide eyes stared up at the ceiling. Blood surrounded his head and upper body. His right arm was missing. A large chunk had been taken out of his neck. The wound had obviously severed his carotid artery. If Turk had arrived a few minutes earlier, he’d have seen the final quart of blood pumping out in arterial spray. Now, there was nothing. Mike had passed.
But where were the assailants?
Turk scanned the room. On first pass, he saw nothing. He felt them, though. Their penetrating stares ate through him. If he didn’t find them soon, he was next to
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