The Zone: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Infection Chronicles Book 1) by Tripp Ellis Page B
Authors: Tripp Ellis
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ripped through the air. This was her cue to fire. She burst a flurry of rounds.
Steele’s bullet split the gunners head in half. His body fell back, clanging into the truck bed. As the driver craned his neck back to see what the commotion was about, three bullets pierced the windshield. His face turned into a bloody soup.
The passenger’s face went pale, and the cigarette dropped from his mouth. He frantically fumbled for his weapon as the cigarette was burning his crotch. He looked frazzled and ridiculous.
Steele rattled off another several rounds into the right front tire, blowing it to shreds. The rim ground into the concrete, and the truck swerved. The black beast bounded onto the sidewalk and smashed into a telephone pole. Metal crumpled, and the hood buckled. The back of the truck lifted from the ground and spiraled around into a brick building. The truck bounced on its springs a time or two before resting motionless.
The windshield on the passenger side was cracked and webbed. The passenger obviously hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt and smacked it with his skull. It was splattered with blood and a tuft of hair. Steele hoped the passenger was still alive. He needed to talk to him.
The whole thing had taken less than 30 seconds. Aside from the sound of the impact, the assault had barely made more than a whisper. Steele hoped that the crash wouldn’t have alerted anyone back at the compound. But someone could be coming. They had to act fast.
Parker and Steele crept to the lifeless truck. The passenger was still motionless in his seat. Steele pulled open the door. The guy was moaning and groaning, regaining consciousness. Steele grabbed the man’s shirt and yanked him from the cab. He smacked the concrete with his face and blood spattered on the ground. It mixed with the rainwater and oozed away.
The man groaned in agony. Steele rolled the man onto his back. His leg was broken from the crash. It dangled at an unnatural angle. This was the same guy who had grabbed Chloe.
Steele had no sympathy for him. He jammed the barrel of his RK into the man’s face. “Keep the pain to yourself.”
Parker pulled the dead driver out of the cab and hefted his body into the truck bed. Then she dashed back and hopped in the driver seat. She tried to turn the engine over, but it wouldn’t go. She tried again, but the engine just slurred. Parker pumped the gas pedal a few times, then she twisted the ignition key—the engine clunked to life.
Barely.
“Pull it into the scrapyard. We’ve got to get it off the street,” Steele said.
Parker reversed back from the telephone pole, then dropped it into gear. The truck hobbled to the scrapyard, engine sputtering.
“Come on, buddy. Let’s go for a walk.” Steele grabbed the man by his collar and drug him down the sidewalk. The man screamed in agony with every bump.
“What did I tell you about making noise?” Steele asked.
“Please, man. I didn’t do anything,” the thug cried.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Norman,” the man stammered.
“Do you have a high pain tolerance, Norman?” There was a devilish glint in Steele’s eyes.
Norman’s face grew pale with fear, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
CHAPTER 19
“HOW MUCH FERTILIZER do you have?” Steele asked.
Xavier and his men huddled around Steele in the basement below the storefront. Xavier looked perplexed.
“You’ve got a garden, how much fertilizer do you have?”
“We’ve got ten, maybe fifteen, fifty pound bags of ammonium nitrate. Why?”
“That’s more than enough,” Steele said.
“Enough for what?”
“ANFO. Mix the ammonium nitrate with fuel oil, boost it with C4, and we’ve got enough explosives to take out the south wall of the compound,” Steele said.
“Where are we going to get fuel oil?” Xavier asked.
“Diesel will do,” Steele said. “That shouldn’t be too hard to find. If you can find some nitromethane, even better.”
“What’s
Steele’s bullet split the gunners head in half. His body fell back, clanging into the truck bed. As the driver craned his neck back to see what the commotion was about, three bullets pierced the windshield. His face turned into a bloody soup.
The passenger’s face went pale, and the cigarette dropped from his mouth. He frantically fumbled for his weapon as the cigarette was burning his crotch. He looked frazzled and ridiculous.
Steele rattled off another several rounds into the right front tire, blowing it to shreds. The rim ground into the concrete, and the truck swerved. The black beast bounded onto the sidewalk and smashed into a telephone pole. Metal crumpled, and the hood buckled. The back of the truck lifted from the ground and spiraled around into a brick building. The truck bounced on its springs a time or two before resting motionless.
The windshield on the passenger side was cracked and webbed. The passenger obviously hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt and smacked it with his skull. It was splattered with blood and a tuft of hair. Steele hoped the passenger was still alive. He needed to talk to him.
The whole thing had taken less than 30 seconds. Aside from the sound of the impact, the assault had barely made more than a whisper. Steele hoped that the crash wouldn’t have alerted anyone back at the compound. But someone could be coming. They had to act fast.
Parker and Steele crept to the lifeless truck. The passenger was still motionless in his seat. Steele pulled open the door. The guy was moaning and groaning, regaining consciousness. Steele grabbed the man’s shirt and yanked him from the cab. He smacked the concrete with his face and blood spattered on the ground. It mixed with the rainwater and oozed away.
The man groaned in agony. Steele rolled the man onto his back. His leg was broken from the crash. It dangled at an unnatural angle. This was the same guy who had grabbed Chloe.
Steele had no sympathy for him. He jammed the barrel of his RK into the man’s face. “Keep the pain to yourself.”
Parker pulled the dead driver out of the cab and hefted his body into the truck bed. Then she dashed back and hopped in the driver seat. She tried to turn the engine over, but it wouldn’t go. She tried again, but the engine just slurred. Parker pumped the gas pedal a few times, then she twisted the ignition key—the engine clunked to life.
Barely.
“Pull it into the scrapyard. We’ve got to get it off the street,” Steele said.
Parker reversed back from the telephone pole, then dropped it into gear. The truck hobbled to the scrapyard, engine sputtering.
“Come on, buddy. Let’s go for a walk.” Steele grabbed the man by his collar and drug him down the sidewalk. The man screamed in agony with every bump.
“What did I tell you about making noise?” Steele asked.
“Please, man. I didn’t do anything,” the thug cried.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Norman,” the man stammered.
“Do you have a high pain tolerance, Norman?” There was a devilish glint in Steele’s eyes.
Norman’s face grew pale with fear, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
CHAPTER 19
“HOW MUCH FERTILIZER do you have?” Steele asked.
Xavier and his men huddled around Steele in the basement below the storefront. Xavier looked perplexed.
“You’ve got a garden, how much fertilizer do you have?”
“We’ve got ten, maybe fifteen, fifty pound bags of ammonium nitrate. Why?”
“That’s more than enough,” Steele said.
“Enough for what?”
“ANFO. Mix the ammonium nitrate with fuel oil, boost it with C4, and we’ve got enough explosives to take out the south wall of the compound,” Steele said.
“Where are we going to get fuel oil?” Xavier asked.
“Diesel will do,” Steele said. “That shouldn’t be too hard to find. If you can find some nitromethane, even better.”
“What’s
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