in charge. He took most of Jimmy’s stuff, and the maps too. No one said anything, because nobody messes with Deke.”
“What’s Deke look like?”
The kid swallowed with some difficulty, so I eased up on the pressure I was putting on his windpipe. “Well, he’s big, real big. And he has a big bushy beard.”
“What was he wearing last you saw him?”
The kid’s eyes looked up and off to the side. “Jeans. A plaid overshirt. And one of those pre-War Harley shirts.”
“And which way was he headed when you last saw him?”
“I don’t know, I swear it! I was asleep and woke up with all the commotion, and then I came and hid in here!”
I shook my head. “Some kind of hero, huh? I bet you’re just a valued team member on your way up the corporate ladder.”
“Huh?”
I ignored him. “Sleep tight, kid. I’ll make sure the door is locked behind me. The rest is up to you.” I could see the spark of fear in his eyes, right before I tucked my sidearm back in my waistband and grabbed his lapels to choke him unconscious.
He’d come to in a few, but his chances of getting out of here were slim to none. I was feeling short on sympathy at the moment. I’d been ignoring the possibility that Kara was being badly used, but dealing with these slavers was bringing some nasty thoughts to the forefront. I knew couldn’t let myself think that way, or else it would cloud my judgment. I needed to be thinking clearly; it was bad enough that I was having some impulse control issues that I could only assume were due to the Doc’s treatments.
Tucking away my worries, I waited silently until the deaders were distracted by more gunshots in the distance. Then I slipped out of the office and crept down the hall toward the direction I assumed I would find this Deke asshole. Better if he were dead when I found him, but I’d take those maps off of him either way. I placed my battle axe in my strong hand and my Glock in my off hand so I could take out any punters in relative silence, and crept toward the front entrance of the building.
Turning one last corner, I could see moonlight and the light from the punters’ watch fires streaming in through cracks in the boarded up front doors. One door had been left ajar, which meant that they’d probably split every which way once the deaders got in.
Great.
The only thing left to do was to check the dead and hunt down any of the lucky bastards who may have escaped.
· · ·
I started checking bodies, being careful not to aggress toward any of the Z’s that were feeding on them. I got a few half-hearted grunts and growls out of them, but they pretty much ignored me. That knowledge did nothing for my confidence, considering it probably meant the Z venom and my new and improved immune system were likely locked in a dead heat to keep me from second-life-ing it.
Just as I was kneeling down to check the last corpse, all the deaders went stock still. Then they all got up and shambled ass off in a rush, practically bowling me over in what I could only call a panic to get the hell out of Dodge.
Now, what in the great googly-moogly could’ve caused that?
Within moments, I had my answer. A ragged figure soon appeared in the doorway, almost as if he’d popped in out of thin air. He was much thinner than when I’d last seen him, almost bone-thin, and his skin was hanging off his bones like cake fondant in summer. But despite the differences in his appearance, there was no mistaking that creepy duotone voice. And the stench; it was like rotten corpses, fecal matter, fresh blood, and fish guts, all mixed together.
“Scratch…” the thing that wasn’t quite Donnie whispered as he did a vaudeville side-shuffle through the doorway. “Miss me?” He was carrying a dismembered arm and using it as a prop, mimicking holding a cane as he made his entrance.
I backed off a step and leveled my Glock at his face. “Not in the slightest, especially considering the state in which you left me last
“What’s Deke look like?”
The kid swallowed with some difficulty, so I eased up on the pressure I was putting on his windpipe. “Well, he’s big, real big. And he has a big bushy beard.”
“What was he wearing last you saw him?”
The kid’s eyes looked up and off to the side. “Jeans. A plaid overshirt. And one of those pre-War Harley shirts.”
“And which way was he headed when you last saw him?”
“I don’t know, I swear it! I was asleep and woke up with all the commotion, and then I came and hid in here!”
I shook my head. “Some kind of hero, huh? I bet you’re just a valued team member on your way up the corporate ladder.”
“Huh?”
I ignored him. “Sleep tight, kid. I’ll make sure the door is locked behind me. The rest is up to you.” I could see the spark of fear in his eyes, right before I tucked my sidearm back in my waistband and grabbed his lapels to choke him unconscious.
He’d come to in a few, but his chances of getting out of here were slim to none. I was feeling short on sympathy at the moment. I’d been ignoring the possibility that Kara was being badly used, but dealing with these slavers was bringing some nasty thoughts to the forefront. I knew couldn’t let myself think that way, or else it would cloud my judgment. I needed to be thinking clearly; it was bad enough that I was having some impulse control issues that I could only assume were due to the Doc’s treatments.
Tucking away my worries, I waited silently until the deaders were distracted by more gunshots in the distance. Then I slipped out of the office and crept down the hall toward the direction I assumed I would find this Deke asshole. Better if he were dead when I found him, but I’d take those maps off of him either way. I placed my battle axe in my strong hand and my Glock in my off hand so I could take out any punters in relative silence, and crept toward the front entrance of the building.
Turning one last corner, I could see moonlight and the light from the punters’ watch fires streaming in through cracks in the boarded up front doors. One door had been left ajar, which meant that they’d probably split every which way once the deaders got in.
Great.
The only thing left to do was to check the dead and hunt down any of the lucky bastards who may have escaped.
· · ·
I started checking bodies, being careful not to aggress toward any of the Z’s that were feeding on them. I got a few half-hearted grunts and growls out of them, but they pretty much ignored me. That knowledge did nothing for my confidence, considering it probably meant the Z venom and my new and improved immune system were likely locked in a dead heat to keep me from second-life-ing it.
Just as I was kneeling down to check the last corpse, all the deaders went stock still. Then they all got up and shambled ass off in a rush, practically bowling me over in what I could only call a panic to get the hell out of Dodge.
Now, what in the great googly-moogly could’ve caused that?
Within moments, I had my answer. A ragged figure soon appeared in the doorway, almost as if he’d popped in out of thin air. He was much thinner than when I’d last seen him, almost bone-thin, and his skin was hanging off his bones like cake fondant in summer. But despite the differences in his appearance, there was no mistaking that creepy duotone voice. And the stench; it was like rotten corpses, fecal matter, fresh blood, and fish guts, all mixed together.
“Scratch…” the thing that wasn’t quite Donnie whispered as he did a vaudeville side-shuffle through the doorway. “Miss me?” He was carrying a dismembered arm and using it as a prop, mimicking holding a cane as he made his entrance.
I backed off a step and leveled my Glock at his face. “Not in the slightest, especially considering the state in which you left me last
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