Swarm (Dead Ends) by G.D. Lang Read Free Book Online Page A

survivor, a woman? Is she still here?”
    “Oh yeah, you mean Jane. She’s in the café making sure none of the food spoils. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
    I looked down, “Zoe, would you like to hang out with Jane while I use the bathroom? She’s really nice, I remember you saying that. Is that ok?” I was trying to be sweet but my bladder was about to burst.
    Ricky sensed both her unease and my urgency. He leaned down and extended his hand. “Come on little munchkin, I’ll bet Jane has one of those big cookies waiting for you. As big as your head!”
    Zoe smiled, “with sprinkles?” she asked excitedly.
    “You bet kiddo, whatever you want” he smiled. With that, Zoe released her death grip on my leg and allowed me a long overdue bathroom break.
    Ricky looked at me seriously, whispering “Listen, I don’t know what that guy is up to out there but don’t take too long in the bathroom, alright? We have the café locked down so if anyone tries to come in, we’ll be safe. The security cams are located in back of the café so we can monitor any movement from there, as long as the power stays on anyway. Here take this.” He handed me the crossbow that only a few minutes ago was aimed directly at my chest. “We’ve got more in the back.”
    “Gotcha, I’ll be quick” I said and made a beeline for the bathroom, every second feeling like an hour. As I covered the twenty or so yards to the two doors somewhat cleverly marked “Bucks” and “Does” it struck me how unfamiliar with this place I was. Each dark corner held secrets that I was not privy to. A bump in the floor here, a creak in the stairs there. A sticky door hinge. Blinding overhead lights that bounce off a certain clothing rack at just the right angle to make you squint. I had no idea if these things existed. I wasn’t sure yet if that was a good thing or not. Familiarity does tend to breed complacency after all. I recall reading an article one time about how a large percentage of car accidents happen within a few miles of where the victims (or culprits for that matter) live. Perhaps the things I didn’t know about this place were the very things that would save my life. My brain couldn’t afford to take a time-out.

Chapter 6
    I entered the bathroom door on the right, confident in my status as a “Buck” and made my way to a bank of urinals, scoffing at their lack of privacy screens in between one another. I guess it didn’t much matter anymore. I thought back to my childhood, cheering on the Seattle Mariners inside the concrete coffin known as the Kingdome where the urinals consisted of one long trough filled with ice. There existed no clear designation for proper alignment, like a bar with no stools. A mass of feet and elbows touching one another, foreign genitalia mere inches from my own. This seemed like the Ritz-Carlton in comparison. Though with this place I was shocked not to see a urinal cake in the form of a bulls-eye. They really missed an opportunity there.
    I bellied up to the urinal furthest away from the door, next to the beginning of row of stalls painted the obligatory beige that populates substandard public restrooms the world over. As I unzipped, I noticed the vent hatch above one of the stalls was unhitched and hanging open, slightly flapping in a nonexistent wind. By the time my brain connected the dots, it was too late.
    The gun cocking alerted me to his presence. If this was the same person who shot Paul in cold blood without asking questions and had attempted to procure the same fate for me, I knew I was as good as dead. I stood frozen in fear, too afraid to even tuck my genitals back into the safety of my pants. I found myself in what I’m sure is the most prone position a man could possibly experience, my hands struggling to figure out whether to reach for the sky or instinctually protect my most precious of assets. He grabbed me from behind, his left arm wrapping around my neck as the business end of the gun bore