Driver 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

CHAPTER 7

Up until Kyle was put underneath baskets of potatoes and turnips, he thought the plan was great, but now that he was lying in an inch of rotting vegetable slime and remnants of past deliveries left to decay in the bed, he reconsidered.

“God it stinks,” Cal complained.

“You and I have something to agree on,” Kyle said.

“Hey guys, keep your mouth shut, we’re coming up on the main gate,” Dana barked through the sliding rear window of the truck’s cab.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy quipped as he gave a half assed salute.

Dana slowed the truck until she came to a full stop at the large metal gate that blocked the main drive towards the hotel. She manually rolled down the window on the old truck and greeted the guard, “Hi.”

The guard looked at her then into the cab. “Hey, Dana,” he flirted.

“Shift time,” she said.

“Can you do me a favor?” the guard asked.

“Sure, what do you need?”

“Peanut butter, my wife has been talking about it non-stop. Any chance you have some you could spare?”

“For you, anything, I’ll see what I can do,” Dana replied.

“Thanks. I’ll radio ahead to have the guards keep the second gate open and to expect you at the loading dock, that way you can just go on up without further stopping,” the guard said as he gave her a wink.

“Now, now, let’s not do something we’ll regret,” Dana flirted back.

“Have a good shift,” the guard said stepping away from the window.

Dana waved, rolled the window up and pulled away. When she was far enough she leaned back towards the open rear window and said, “Well boys, we’ll clear all the way through. Now remember, when we get to the loading dock, just stay put until I get the truck inside the bay.”

The guys are replied their acknowledgement.

Dana drove easily through the second gate and meandered her way to the rear of the hotel. The cover of night she hoped would be helpful when getting the men out of the back. Arriving at the loading dock, she backed the truck into a small loading bay, got out and closed the door. When the door slammed shut, she called out, “Hurry up, get out.”

Kyle tossed the two baskets off him and jumped out of the back. The others followed.

“My back is soaking wet,” Cal complained.

Unfazed, Kyle asked, “Where’s the service elevator?”

“This way, follow me,” Dana said and swiftly marched off towards a double set of doors.

The men followed with their rifles at the ready. Once at the door, they stacked up while Dana opened the door and looked down the hallway. Seeing it was clear, she said, “No one is here, come, hurry.”

With Kyle leading, they came through the door and turned right. Steps later they were standing in front of the service elevator.

Dana hit the button and looked up to see the elevator was on Level Five. “Here is comes.”

The elevator arrived with a ding. The doors opened and standing in the car was a guard. He looked at Kyle and hesitated for a second before reaching for his sidearm.

Kyle raised the rifle and squeezed off two rounds, both striking him in the chest.

The guard fell back against the wall of the elevator car but his chest plate armor prevented the rounds from penetrating.

Seeing he was still alive, Kyle raised the muzzle and squeezed off one more shot. It struck him in the face and proved to be the kill shot.

With the guard killed, everyone got on the elevator.

Dana glanced down at the guard. She recognized who it was and couldn’t help but be a bit saddened that he was dead.

Cal didn’t feel such remorse, he spit on the guard and snapped, “Fascist.”

Dana hit the button for Level Five and stepped back. The doors closed and she turned to the others. “I’m stepping out first. I’ll go down to lure a few guards back. I need you to go left, head down to room five thirteen, the door will open without a lock.”

Kyle nodded. He was very impressed with her, she was on point for sure. Eric and Cal, he could do without.

The elevator reached Level Five.

Everyone raised their rifles just in case but when the doors opened it was clear.

Dana stepped out first and looked both ways. “Come on. Head down and remember, be quiet.”

The men did as she said and hurried towards room five thirteen. Just before making a turn in the hall, Kyle looked back to see Dana unbuttoning her shirt.

Dana took slow and measured breaths as she made her way towards the presidential suite. Her plan was risky but she felt confident in men’s carnal desires clouding their judgement.

Outside the suite’s door stood six guards. They were chatting and laughing, not displaying an ounce of professionalism. The lead guard, a man by the name of John, spotted her approaching. He had an eye already for Dana and would be easy pickings. “Look who’s here,” John said.

The other guards looked and saw Dana coming.

Dana stepped forward and said, “Hey guys. I thought I’d come up and see if Number One had mentioned what he may want for breakfast.”

John noticed her top was unbuttoned to expose her cleavage and approached her. “Delicious Dana, oops, sorry, I meant Cook Twenty-two,” he laughed and continued, “You didn’t need to come all the way up here to ask that. Why don’t you tell me and the boys here why you really came up?”

John was going for it right out the gate. It was a welcome surprise of which she was going to capitalize on. “You’re right. I could’ve just radioed but I wanted to see you,” she said expressing herself seductively.

Aroused, John stepped forward and looked down her shirt. “I knew you had…um, boys, look,” John gushed staring at her cleavage.

A strong feeling of disgust washed over her but she couldn’t let that show. She touched his chest and purred, “Would you like to see more?”

“Are you fucking serious?” John asked.

“I hate to say it, but I’ve been looking at you for some time. You’re all I can think about and when I got here, I just wanted to come up here and…” she said stopping herself to leave her desires a mystery.

“And what?” John asked.

She looked to John’s left and right and saw the others were just as excited as he was. “How about I show you?”

Shocked by her proposition he looked back at the others for reassurance.

One of the guards by the name of Chuck said, “Go ahead. Maybe I’ll get sloppy seconds.”

This was Dana’s opening and she took it, “How about now?”

“Me?” Chuck asked pointing at himself.

“Yeah, and you too,” she said pointing at the man behind him.

“I’m up for a four way,” he exclaimed.

“Hold on, she’s mine,” John declared angrily.

“Sssh, I want all of you at the same time,” she said leaning in close and whispering, “At the same time.”

“Let’s go,” John said grabbing her forcibly by the arm and pulling her down the hallway but in the opposite direction.

“No, wait, I have a room,” Dana said insistent.

“I do to, come on,” John said pulling her hard. Chuck and the third guard, Tim, followed like puppies.

“The room I have is clean.”

“Who needs clean?” John asked and pulled her harder.

“No cameras, I mean it’s clean because I know there’s no cameras, you guys don’t want to get caught doing this, do you?” Dana asked becoming increasingly concerned her plan was beginning to fall apart.

John stopped and thought. “You’re right. Which room is it?”

Dana’s fear melted away, she smiled and replied, “Room five thirteen.”

Portia couldn’t sleep. Her life was upside down and soon she’d be someone’s slave to be used for any number of depraved desires. How could her life have turned so fast? Why? These were pointless questions to ask because they didn’t help her out of the situation she was in.

Every uneven spot of road or pothole caused the truck to shudder and bounce.

She had no idea where the next stop was but they’d been on the road for a few hours. Before she’d heard the drivers talking but didn’t hear this time. Did it matter? She thought. Probably not.

Loud popping sounds came from outside the truck followed by dull thuds.

To Portia is sounded like gunshots.

The truck lurched hard to the right, then to the left and back to the right again. These severe turns through the women around in the back like rag dolls.

“What’s going on?” a woman named Maggie asked.

“I think we’re being shot at,” Portia answered just after slamming against the far wall of the trailer.

The truck came to hard stop.

The women were thrown towards the front of the trailer with several landing on top of the other.

Gunfire rang out from outside. From the sounds of it the gunshots were coming from all directions.

“What do we do?” a woman named Cecile asked.

“Just lay here, don’t move,” Nancy replied.

“No, grab something that can be used as a weapon. We don’t know who is attacking us, we must prepare to fight,” Portia said getting to her feet and rummaging around in the mostly dark trailer looking for something that she could use to fight back.

“You don’t know who it is, you could provoke them to hurt us,” Nancy snapped.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re under attack,” Portia countered running her hands along the floor of the trailer in hopes she’d find something soon.

Screams came from what sounded like the cab of the truck followed by gunshots then silence.

Portia paused her search and listened.

“I think we should…” Nancy said before Portia interrupted her.

“Be quiet,” she said just above a whisper. “Listen.”

Portia and the nine other women sat silent, their ears scanning for any threatening sound.

An uncomfortable silence blanketed them. Most of the women sat huddled together, holding each other but Portia who was near the doors.

What’s going on? Portia asked herself.

Heavy banging on both sides of the truck made them jump, and caused several women to cry out. Seconds later, a clanging and screeching of tortured metal came from the back door.

Portia scrambled for something to use but came up empty handed.

The door flew open. Standing in the orange glow of torches were six Generates, their bodies smeared with fresh blood.

Needing to put space in between them and her, Portia ran to the back of the trailer just as the other women cried out in terror.

The Generates didn’t move, they stood staring inside the trailer.

“What’s in there?” a booming voice said in the darkness.

The Generate closest to the door, replied, “Women.”

“Good, more fresh meat. Pull them out,” the voice ordered.

The six Generates leapt inside the trailer with cat like agility and rushed towards the screaming women. Portia thought to fight and when the first Generate reached her, she did just that. The only weapons she had were her fists and she lashed out, striking the first Generate in the face with several blows. Inspired by Portia, the other women also began to fight, punching and kicking the other Generates as they came at them.

The fight was short lived as more Generates poured into the trailer and subdued Portia and the women. One by one, they were dragged out of the trailer, their arms and legs bound and tied together behind their backs in what is known as a hogtie.

As Portia was carried past the cab of the truck she saw the carnage inflicted on Earl and his partner.

Earl grunted signaling to the Generates he was still alive, who promptly responded by tying him up and carrying him along with the women.

Just when Portia thought her life was upside down, it found a way to get worse.

Dana pushed the door of room five thirteen open and found it pitch black. She stepped inside quickly, disappearing into the darkness.

Following close behind, John entered and tried the light switch at the entrance but it didn’t work. “Hey where did you go?” he asked walking further into the darkened room.

“I like it in the dark,” Dana whispered from the far corner of the room.

John walked towards her voice with Chuck and Tim on his heels. “Are you hiding?” John asked feeling around until he walked into the bed.

“Over here,” Dana called out.

John tripped and fell down, “Oh, come on this is bullshit.”

The door slammed shut ridding the room of the little light there had been from the hall lights.

“What the hell, Dana?” John barked getting back to his feet.

The lights came on blinding the three men as they shielded their eyes. By the time they adjusted to the light, Kyle, Tommy, Cal and Eric opened up on them with their handguns. A dozen and a half rounds later, John was lying on the bed wounded fatally while Tim and Chuck were sprawled on the floor dead, blood oozing from several wounds in their chest, back and head.

Dana watched with joy at the sight of her enemies lying dead and wounded.

John reached out to her, “Help.”

She looked at Cal, who handed her the pistol he was using, walked over to John, placed the muzzle against John’s forehead and said, “You’re a piece of shit.” She squeezed the trigger once.

The single forty-five caliber round exploded out of the back of John’s skull, splattering blood and brain matter over the bed.

Kyle nodded his approval and caught Dana’s eye. She winked and handed the pistol back to Cal. “There’s three more at the door. Put a fresh magazine in and I’ll go finish the job.”

“You will?” Cal asked.

Before she could reply, Kyle said, “Makes sense, seeing her isn’t out of the ordinary; seeing us roll up would cause alarms to go off.”

Cal reluctantly put a fresh magazine in the pistol and handed it back to her. “Be careful.”

She nodded and said, “Follow me, stop at the last turn, when you hear me whistle come on down. Eric do you have the charges to blow the door?”

“Yes,” Eric answered tapping a large green satchel.

Kyle gave Tommy an odd look and asked, “You guys are really impressing me today. Exactly what are we doing here? You could have done this all by yourselves.”

“We’re not out of here yet, if this turns into a huge gunfight, we want gunmen who know how to fight to help us get out of here,” Dana replied cutting off Cal who opened his mouth to respond but wasn’t quick enough. Dana shoved the pistol into the small of her back and strutted past Tommy and Kyle, stepping over Chuck and Tim’s bodies.

As she walked by, Tommy asked, “Ever consider joining Leviathan?”

She stopped, turned around and said, “Talk to me about it once we get out of here. If it’s anything like this, I might say yes, I’m rather enjoying my night.”

Tommy grinned, gave her a wink and faced Kyle, “A really like this chick and she’s hot too.”

“C’mon boys, let’s finish this,” Dana said walking out of the room.

Portia watched from her perch as the Generates lit three small separate fires in front of the massive bonfire that lit the night sky. A metal grate was suspended horizontally above each of the smaller fires, for what, she didn’t know. Back and forth different groups of Generates came and went. Having never seen one before, she had only the tales of others, to include Kyle’s stories to help give her an image of what these nomadic people’s looked and acted like. From everything she’d seen, they fit the description perfectly. They were filthy, with their hair pulled back tight into buns or tails. The men’s beards were dreadlocked with tokens and small trophies tied onto individual locks. They all wore necklaces adorned with shriveled ears. Just how humans could resort to such life was foreign to her. A little over nineteen years before they were probably normal people, going about their business with concerns or stresses related to their first world existence, now they were barbaric and preferred the life of a wandering horde.

To her left and right, the other women sat bound to the same metal cable that stretched between two large trees. The only sounds out of any of them were whimpers, cries and pleas for mercy.

Didn’t they know Generates showed no mercy? Portia would say to herself when she’d hear one of the women call out to a Generate passing by.

The heavy sound of footfalls came from her right, she looked and saw dozens of Generates appear out of the shadows and gather around the smaller fires. A lone man remained standing, no doubt their leader. He was average height, lean build, with a long beard and hair pulled up into a bun. Across his face, dark red stripes went diagonally from his temple to his chin. He was shirtless and his chest bore the same stripes. He patted several of his people on the head and said, “Good hunt, I am proud of you. We shall feast and fuck all night!”

The Generates sitting clapped their hands on their thighs, some grunted their approval.

“Bring our sacrifice,” the Generate leader said.

Several Generates appeared from behind Portia dragging Earl. “No, don’t, please.”

Portia searched her thoughts for the stories she’d heard about Generates and recalled a story from Kyle where he described witnessing a ceremony. He told her that they brought a man forward, tied him to a post, cut off his ears and gave them to the Generate who had been most effective on their hunt, then proceeded to skinning him alive. When they were done, they tossed his body onto a rack and cooked him.

Portia looked and saw the post. She put two and two together and assumed the fires and the metal racks had to be there to cook Earl on once he was dead.

Seeing Earl dragged to the post, crying and pleading, some of the women began to call out for mercy.

Portia kept her mouth shut because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

With Earl’s arms tied above him and to the post the Generate leader called out, “We sacrifice this human and from his body we shall nourish ourselves.”

The other Generates were getting excited. They rocked back and forth and were anxious to begin the savage ritual.

The Generate leader removed a long blade housed in a sheath on his hip and walked over to Earl. Without hesitating or saying a word, he removed Earl’s left ear.

Earl cried out in pain. Blood flowed freely from the wound and ran down the side of his neck and onto his shoulder. “No, please don’t, stop, please,” Earl blathered.

“God no, don’t hurt us, no!” Nancy unexpectedly cried out.

Portia looked at her and said, “Be quiet, you’ll draw attention to yourself.”

Sobbing, Nancy replied with her head hanging low, “We’re all dead anyway, they’re going to kill us and eat us. NO THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!” She wailed and sobbed heavier.

“Nancy, shut up,” Portia urged.

“It’s no use,” Nancy cried her mouth hanging open and spit and slobber dripping down.

A glint from something bright dangled from Nancy’s neck. Portia looked closer and recognized it as her locket. “That’s mine.”

Nancy didn’t say a word, she kept sobbing.

“That’s my locket, you took it,” Portia snapped.

Nancy lifted her head and looked at Portia. “I found it on the ground.”

“It has my picture in it and my name on the back. You found it and decided to keep it, you fucking bitch,” Portia barked.

Earl cried out in pain as the Generate leader sliced off his other ear and held it high in the air. The brutal display pulled Portia away from her confrontation with Nancy. She now prayed she’d live long enough to watch Nancy suffer the same fate.

The Generate leader gave away the ear then turned towards Earl. Blood soaked his shirt. The Generate leader cut the shirt away and tossed it into the fire. He then cut his pants off him and threw them into the flames. Naked, bloody and shaking with fear, Earl continued to beg for mercy. The Generate leader called out, “Jacks, Flint, Graves come forth with your knives and remove the skin of our sacrifice.”

“NO!” Earl screamed.

The three men summoned stepped forward with long slender knives in their hands. Portia couldn’t help but admire the blades and by their design they were made for fileting delicate flesh.

The Generate leader stepped away and allowed the three to begin their work. Not hesitating and showing their skill, they began to cut, but they didn’t remove the skin. The one in front of Earl inserted his knife and slid it horizontal from left to right, from collar bone to collar bone, then turned the blade down and cut along the side stopping near the hip before cutting horizontal again from the waist across and up to the where he began. The others were cutting around the circumference of his arms and legs.

Earl screamed and shook uncontrollably.

Portia wanted to feel sorry for Earl but she couldn’t, though it was a brutal way to die, she felt he deserved every second of pain he was receiving.

The three Generates stepped back when they were finished carving on Earl’s body.

The Generate leader approached, nodded and said, “Remove the flesh and put it on the fire.”

The three Generates shoved their fingers deep into the top horizontal cut and together pulled. At first the skin barely gave, but on their second hard pull, it peeled back.

Earl shrieked loudly then passed out from the pain.

The Generates continued pulling until the front panel of skin was removed. One took it to the far left fire and placed it on the scalding hot grate which served as a grill. The flesh sizzled when it made contact.

The other Generates grunted and began to grow agitated.

Portia was mesmerized by the barbaric ritual, it was grotesque, beyond anything she’d ever seen, but for some reason she couldn’t take her eyes off of it. With her attention fully on what they were doing see didn’t notice that several of the women had passed out.

The three Generates pulled the skin from his arms and legs and put it on a grate. They continued to do this until most of Earl’s skin had been removed leaving his muscles, tendons and bones exposed.

Portia could see Earl’s chest gently rise and fall indicating he was still alive. It was awful but skill she couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy for him.

With the skin removed, the Generates went to attend to the cooking of the flesh.

The Generate leader came forward, removed his knife from its sheath and cut off Earl’s genitals. He held them up high and offered them to a woman close by who devoured them raw.

Finally, Portia pulled her gaze. She had reached her limit. A crippling fear came over her, this was how she was going to die. How could this be? She asked herself.

“Children gather, come,” the Generate leader called out.

Unable to control her curiosity, Portia looked and saw a gathering of fifteen children assemble at the leader’s feet.

“Claw come forward,” the Generate leader said motioning to a boy about ten years old. The boy stood up and came to him. The Generate leader put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and held out the knife. “Take the blade and cut the man across the belly, there,” he said using his own torso as a guide. The boy nodded, took the knife and stepped in front of Earl. The Generate leader stood behind Claw and said, “Do it, Claw, open him up for us.” The boy raised the knife, pressed it against the exposed abdominal wall and slid it across. Instantly, Earl’s intestines poured out and fell to the ground with a plop. Claw stepped away, handed the knife back and sat down. The Generate leader said, “Children, take the bowels of this man and pull them out. Take them and put them in the bucket; the women will clean them for later.” The children did as he said. The grand finale was now here. The Generate leader faced Earl’s dead body, raised his knife and plunged it deep into his sternum. From there he sawed until he had a foot long incision in his chest. He sheathed the knife, reached in with both hands and pried open Earl’s chest.

The sound of cracking ribs made Portia cringe.

Nancy continued to sob while others were still unconscious and even more cried knowing their fate would soon follow Earl’s.

The Generate leader reached into the chest cavity, grabbed Earl’s heart twisted it hard and pulled it out. Being the leader of this tribe, the heart was his to take and that he did. He held it high then brought it down level with his face. He examined the bloody organ and clamped his jaw around a ventricle and bit down. Using his incisors, he twisted and turned his head until he was able to bite off a large chunk. He chewed repeatedly, breaking down the fibrous tissue until he could swallow. Blood ran down his chin and dripped onto his bare chest. Not finished, he took another large bite.

The tribe grew increasingly agitated due to hunger. They longingly looked at their leader then to the Generates cooking the skin. They were waiting for the word to go eat.

The Generate leader finished the heart with one last bite. He swallowed hard, licked the blood from his fingers and raised his hands. He looked to the Generates cooking the skin and ordered, “Done. Prepare it.”

They did as he ordered and removed the charred skin and began slicing it into hand sized portions.

The tribe began to grunt and moan as their hunger was increasing.

A wind whipped from the north and washed Portia in the intense smell of charred flesh. She gagged and dry heaved, trace amounts of bile coming up gave her mouth a bitter taste.

The Generates finished cutting the skin and signaled with a nod to their leader.

“Go eat!” the Generate leader hollered.

Like a pack of wild and ravenous animals, the tribe raced towards the table stacked high with charbroiled skin. They kicked, punched, scratched and clawed to get their hands on a piece.

With the tribe busy eating, The Generate leader motioned towards the body of Earl.

Knowing what came next, the three Generates who had carved Earl walked over, took the body down and placed it on a long table feet from the last fire. Using cleavers, hand saws and knives they began to butcher Earl’s body. As manageable pieces were cut off, one of them would toss it on the grate and began cooking it.

Portia began to wonder if she should find a way to kill herself. Dying the way Earl did wasn’t something she wished to experience. She thought about taking a knife from one of them and slicing her own throat and even leaping into the center of the bonfire. Both would be painful but only for a brief moment compared to the torturous death she’d just witnessed.

The Generate leader approached the women. He slowly walked past each of them, stopping in front of a couple. He reached the end of the line, turned around and began another pass. He stopped in front of Nancy, who had become hysterical, and said, “You’re next.”

“No, please, someone help me!” she cried out.

He pulled out his knife, cut her away from the cable and lifted her to her feet.

A combination of fear and shock made it hard for Nancy to stand. She went to take her first step but her legs wobbled and buckled. She collapsed to the ground and began to cry.

The Generate leader didn’t need her to walk. He’d get her to the post any way necessary. He bent down, took a handful of hair and pulled her behind him kicking and screaming. When he reached the post, he secured her to it like Earl was and pulled out his knife. He went to go remove one of her ears but stopped when he spotted the locket. Curious, he ripped it off her neck and opened it to discover Kyle and Portia’s pictures. With no real value, he tossed it on a table near him.

“God please, someone help me.”

He got in her face and smiled broadly showing his brownish yellow teeth.

Repulsed she turned her head away.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Unable to control her bodily functions, she wet her pants.

Taunting her, he said, “I’m going to enjoy eating you later.” He took her left ear in his hand and with a single precise slice, removed it.

Dana stopped at the corner in the hallway and peered around. The three remaining guards stood talking as she had left them, unaware that their comrades were dead. She looked back at the men and said, “Its show time.”

Cal reached up and touched her arm, “Be careful.”

Her face scrunched and with a tone signaling her annoyance with his persistent concern said, “Calvin, I’ll be fine, stop always saying that.”

Cal nodded.

Kyle watched the two interact and could tell they must have a romantic relationship or at the minimum he cared for her more than she did for him.

Before Dana stepped off she gave Kyle a look and winked. This wink didn’t go unnoticed by Cal, but before he could say anything, she was already heading down the hallway.

Cal scooted up to the corner and listened for her cue, with Kyle just behind him.

A guard named Mat saw Dana coming first and asked, “Where are the guys?”

“They’re coming, I thought maybe I could entertain you guys too. They weren’t enough for me,” she said seductively.

One of the guards raised a brow and asked, “I smell bullshit.”

Mat turned to him and asked, “What do you mean, Brad?”

By this time, Dana came to within a few feet of them and stopped.

“That I don’t trust her,” Brad said skeptically.

“Oh, come on, Brad, I know your wife and I bet she can’t take care of you like I can,” Dana said.

Mat ignored Brad’s skepticism and approached Dana, he went to touch her but she backed up just out of reach. “Where you going?”

“No touchy until we get back to the room,” Dana said.

The last guard stood in front of the door, he was young, about seventeen and this was his first detail working the Lair. He’d seen the older guards play around and violate their oaths but he was too scared to do so.

Mat spotted something unusual on Dana’s white shirt. “What in the hell is that?” Mat said pointing at the front of her shirt.

Dana looked down and saw blood splatter. Fear gripped her. She stuttered, “Oh that; it, it, its pasta sauce I’m preparing for dinner tonight.” While she spoke her right hand slowly drifted towards her back.

Brad stepped forward, leaned in and looked, “Pasta sauce, that looks like…” he said but was unable to finish as she pulled the pistol from her lower back and shot him in the face.

Mat watched in shock as his friend’s head exploded. He began to raise his rifle but was too slow. She turned the pistol on him and shot him twice, once in the chest and once in the side of the head. He dropped to his knees and fell to the ground dead.

Dana swiveled to confront the last guard but this time her luck had run out. He had his rifle trained on her. “Drop it!” Dana could see his hand was shaking. He was terrified and rightfully so, he had just witnessed two of his colleagues get gunned down.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, we’re both going to put down our guns and talk about this,” Dana said, her pistol still pointed in the direction of where Mat had stood.

“Put it down!” he yelled.

Back at the end of the hall, the others heard the commotion. Cal peaked around and said, “Shit, she’s in trouble.”

“Did she give the cue?” Kyle asked.

“No, trust me, she’s in trouble,” Cal said and bolted from around the corner.

With no other choice, Kyle and the others had to follow. They cleared the corner and began to race down the hall, covering the distance quickly.

The guard saw them and yelled, “Everyone fucking stop, freeze!”

“You’re outnumbered. I’m sure you don’t want to die!” Dana said.

“Please put down you gun!” the guard urged Dana, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

“You’re a young guy, I’m sure you don’t want to die. If you put the rifle down, I promise my friends won’t hurt you,” Dana lied, she had no intention of keeping him alive.

Cal and the others were closing in fast.

The guard stepped away from her until he walked into the door. His eyes darted between her and the men coming fast. In his head he debated what to do. If he surrendered and they killed Number One, he’d forever be known a traitor and a coward but if he fought back and died, he’d be hailed a hero of The Collective and there was no greater honor than that. He stiffened his back and said, “For The Collective!” He squeezed the trigger and unleashed a burst of rounds directed at Dana, striking her in the chest. She reeled back and dropped to the floor. He pivoted to engage the men but Kyle had the guard sighted in through the Trijicon MRO on his rifle and shot several times.

The rounds the guard squarely in the chest. He fell back, hit the door and slid down but was still alive. Thinking quickly, he keyed his radio handset and sounded the alarm, “We’re under attack, level five. Repeat, we’re under attack, level five.”

Kyle reached him first and without saying a word put two rounds in his head.

Tommy came up beside Kyle, turned towards Cal and Eric to see where they were. He found them kneeling next to Dana’s body. Cal had her in his lap, his trembling hand stroking her hair. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

Eric knelt next to him, holding her hand.

“There’s not time for this, I need the charges,” Tommy snapped.

The guard’s radio crackled to life. “Who was that? Come back. Who was reporting an attack on level five?”

“Eric give me the charges, we’re going to have company soon,” Tommy barked.

Gunshots ripped through the door, one grazing Tommy’s leg.

Kyle stepped out of the way while Tommy crawled to clear the gunfire punching through the door from inside. “Looks like he knows we’re here.”

“Who is it?” Barry yelled at Cisco who was awkwardly holding the AR platform rifle at the hip.

“How am I supposed to know?” Cisco yelled back.

Barry raced back into the bedroom of the suite. Inside two young girls no older than twelve were there huddled in the corner whimpering. He looked at them and screamed, “Shut the fuck up!” He went to the closet, found a rifle and a pistol. He checked to see if they were loaded and headed back towards the living room. On his way past the girls, he aimed, shot and killed the them. "I told you to shut up."

Cisco fired another volley of rounds until the bolt locked back. “It’s empty! I need more bullets!”

Barry tossed him a fully loaded thirty round magazine.

Cisco caught it but had no idea how to remove the empty one. “How does this work?”

“For Christ’s sake,” Barry bellowed storming over to Cisco and doing it for him.

“Number One are you safe?” a voice boomed from a radio positioned on the sofa table.

Barry picked it up and yelled, “No, we’re not. Now stop calling and send up everyone!”

“Everyone?”

“Yes, everyone!”

Cal stormed over to Kyle and shoved him, “This is your fault!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Kyle asked shocked and annoyed by Cal’s behavior.

“Dana’s dead because of you. I told you this was a bad idea and you supported her plan. Now’s she’s dead!”

“She died a hero. She was one of the toughest and bravest people I’ve met in a long time.”

Cal grabbed Kyle by the collar and pushed him hard against the wall. “I should kill you.”

Done with Cal’s tantrum, Kyle pulled his knife and poked Cal in the groin with it. “Let go or I’ll have you singing soprano.”

Feeling the sharp tip of the blade against his genitals, Cal looked down and took a step back. “When this is done, you and I will have a few words.”

Kyle cracked a smile and looked at Tommy, “Drama queens, I told you.”

Tommy wasn’t paying attention to the squabble, he had cut open his pants and was addressing the wound.

“You good?” Kyle asked.

“Fine, just grazed me,” he said tying a cloth bandage around it. “We need to get these doors open and now. Eric toss me the satchel,” Tommy said.

Eric did as he was told and threw the satchel over.

Tommy quickly set the plastic charges near where he guessed the hinges were located and stepped back. “Everyone get clear.”

The others stacked up against the wall and waited.

Tommy blew the charge. The concussion was loud and the hall was showered with wood, plastic, sheet rock and other debris.

Kyle was the first to enter, “Going left.”

Cal came in behind him with Eric right behind and Tommy bringing up the tail end.

Kyle scanned his area of responsibility and upon seeing no one was there, called out, “Left clear.”

“All clear here!” Cal hollered. “I’ve got a double set of doors here.”

“Me too,” Kyle said.

On either side of the large living room were entrances to two bedrooms.

“Anymore charges?” Kyle asked.

“No,” Tommy replied.

“I guess we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way,” Kyle said. “Let’s take down the one on the left first.”

“I’m going to keep watch on the door, we’ll have visitors soon,” Tommy said going back to the breached doorway to provide watch.

A loud crash came from the opposite side of the room from Kyle. He looked and saw Cal kicking in the door. “For fuck’s sake!” Kyle ran over and said, “Get out of the way!”

Cal resisted at first but soon relented.

Kyle stepped back, aimed at the door handle and shot several times. He turned back to Cal and said, “Try now.”

Cal came forward and kicked hard. The doors flew open.

Eric raced in and looked around. “No one here.”

“I’ll check the bathroom, Cal check the closet,” Kyle said heading towards the bathroom, his rifle at the ready in his shoulder. He pushed the half closed door fully open and peaked inside. “All clear.”

“Closet too,” Cal said.

Heavy gunfire erupted from the front door area.

“It’s Tommy. Our guests are here!” Kyle said bolting out of the room. “Tommy, you good?”

While engaging guards further down the hall, Tommy replied, “I got this, go get your man.”

Wanting to show his bravado, Eric marched over to the other bedroom door and kicked it, “Open up!”

Not ready, Kyle hollered at Eric, “No, don’t!”

Gunshots ripped through the doors striking Eric in the neck, shoulder and chest. He stumbled back, tripped over a chair and fell into the coffee table. He immediately pressed his hand to the wound in his neck to prevent the blood from pouring out but it wasn’t helping as the blood oozed through his fingers.

Cal came to his side. “Oh, no, no.”

“No fucking time, he’ll be dead in a minute,” Kyle said callously.

“You don’t know that,” Cal said applying pressure to the wound on his neck.

“Trust me, he’s been shot through the jugular. He’s dead,” Kyle said.

Eric coughed and gargled volumes of blood before expiring with a gasp.

Cal stopped administering first aid and looked over at Kyle, “You’re an asshole. I hate you.”

“I hear that a lot, now are we going to accomplish what we came to do?” Kyle asked.

The backdrop of heavy gunfire from the hallway and doorway hadn’t subsided.

“How you doing Tommy?” Kyle asked.

“I need some ammo, there’s a shit load of people up here.”

Kyle ran up and handed him two fully loaded thirty round magazines for his AR. “This is all I can spare.”

Cal came up and gave him more, “These were Eric’s.”

Not lifting his head from his rifle, Tommy said, “Fellas, I’m not liking the odds right now.”

“We’ll be fine, Tommy boy, remember that time in Compton when we were beat cops?” Kyle asked.

“No time for reminiscing, go get Barry,” Tommy replied.

Kyle looked at Cal and said, “This time we do it my way.”

Cal nodded.

They went to the door.

“I’m going to blast the door handle while I want you to spray some rounds through the door. That’ll get them to retreat away from it…I hope,” Kyle chuckled.

Cal nodded, his anxiety was at an all-time high.

“On the count of three; one, don’t you love this shit, two, remember don’t kill Barry, and three.”

One by one the women were either taken to be raped or butchered and consumed, except for Portia who remained tied up. Each time a Generate came towards her, the Generate leader would chase them off and warn that she was his. What that meant was unknown to her.

Portia had heard of these ceremonies but found calling it that was inappropriate, it was more an orgy of blood and decadence. It was no surprise after all she had witnessed that Generates weren’t even considered human anymore. How could a human do such a thing? The barbarism, the pure evil of what they did was so shocking that no one could ever understand if you explained it to them, the only way to truly comprehend was to witness it with one’s own eyes.

Weary, she waited for the moment the Generate leader would come for her. Each time he’d approached she wondered if this was it, was she now going to suffer everyone else’s fate. Nancy lasted longer than Earl, she was still alive up until he plunged his knife into her chest and pried it open. Portia hadn’t known her long and in that short period of time found her to be annoying and clearly a thief but she did feel sorry for what happened to her. Like her, Nancy had been a resident of The Collective and diagnosed with a terminal disease, solely because they needed fresh slaves to sell.

Many Generates howled as they feasted while others openly had sex with their females for all to see. The Generate was a clear example of how humans could devolve and become something horrible. To Portia it was like they were soulless.

The Generate leader sauntered towards her.

Portia watched him and again wondered if this was her time.

He stepped in front of her and smiled. His teeth were blackened from the blood and grinded to sharp points with small chunks of flesh stuck in between. His chin, cheeks, neck and chest were covered in blood.

“Is this it?” she asked calmly.

He removed his knife and leaned towards her.

Resigned to her fate, she closed her eyes. Suddenly the pressure on her arms behind her lessened. She opened her eyes to find him putting the knife back in his sheath.

“Get up,” he ordered.

“Huh?”

“Get up,” he repeated.

He had cut her free. She rubbed her wrists and gave him a long stare.

Impatient, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up. “Get up.” He drew her face close to his and said, “You’re mine. Time to go fuck.”

“Why me?” she blurted out, shocked that she even asked a question.

He ignored her question. He tightened his grip and pulled her along.

A single shot cracked in the distance.

The Generate leader stopped and looked around. Near the fire one of his tribe dropped dead.

Another shot rang out.

Again, another Generate fell.

The Generate leader tossed her to the ground and cried out, “Run! Go scatter.”

Portia fell to her knees and watched as the Generates began to run in different directions. The Generates were fierce when dealing with captives but it was widely known they weren’t great fighters if up against a superior force.

The single gun fire became a barrage of bullets coming from all directions.

In order to protect herself, Portia crawled towards a ditch and rolled in. The second she hit the bottom she regretted the hiding spot. It was a mass grave filled with the skeletal remains of their victims. The smell of rotting flesh and decay was too much, Portia began to throw up. There was no way she’d be able to stomach this, she crawled out and just lay on her back. If she was going to die by gunshot, fine, at least she wouldn’t be skinned alive.

Some of the Generates had managed to get to their dwellings to get firearms but a large number hadn’t. Whoever was shooting at them were accurate and the Generates were taking heavy casualties.

Portia lay for what seemed like an eternity. The screams of the Generates were like music to her ears. She didn’t know who was attacking them but whoever it was they were like guardian angels.

The gunfire ceased. She rolled over and looked around, Generate bodies lay scattered everywhere. An eerie silence washed over the encampment save for the crackling fires and muted moans from wounded Generates.

Figures began to emerge from the shadows. They split up and began to assess the carnage. Any surviving Generate was killed immediately.

Portia didn’t move for fear these people could be as bad as the Generates, if that was possible. The sounds of heavy footfalls behind her sent chills down her spine. She thought about running, but where would she go?

“I’ve got one here,” a man said towering over her.

Portia began to crawl away frantically.

“Look at it go,” the man laughed as he pursued her.

She jumped to her feet but didn’t get one step as he grabbed her by the back of her shirt and threw her to the ground.

“Time to say goodnight, Generate,” the man said holding an axe above his head.

“No, please, don’t, I’m not a Generate, I’m not a Generate, they captured me, please don’t hurt me,” Portia begged holding her hands out in front of her in a defensive manner.

The man hesitated and looked at her closer. “Were you from that slave truck?”

“Um, yes, the slave truck, please don’t hurt me.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” he said offering his hand.

Portia looked at him then his hand and thought she didn’t have anything to lose so she took his hand.

He lifted her to her feet and said, “Anyone else alive?”

She looked around and replied, “I don’t know. I know some of the women were taken to huts over there but you guys were shooting I just ran and hid in that pit but when I found out it was…” She stopped herself once she noticed she was rambling. “Listen, I don’t know.”

A shriek came from behind the man.

Portia looked over his shoulder and saw the Generate leader racing towards them with a knife in its hand.

The man turned around calmly, spun the axe in his hand and waited for the Generate to draw closer.

It continued to shriek as it came.

The man raised the axe, held it for a second then threw it. The axe spun through the air and came to a stop inches deep in the Generate’s face. It crashed to the ground and began to flop around. He ran over, put his boot on its neck and pulled the axe out its head, then for good measure swung it hard and planted it one more time in its face.

The Generate leader made an unintelligible sound, its body twitched for a few seconds before becoming still.

The man retrieved the axe and walked back to a stunned Portia. Using his long sleeve he wiped the blood off.

“You’re quite handy with that thing,” Portia said.

“This thing is amazing, you can’t really find them anymore. They’re called a Proof of Life axe, I don’t think that name fits, I call it my Proof of Death, as you can see,” he joked while motioning with a head nod to the dead Generate. He reached around to his back and pulled out a canteen, “Thirsty?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said taking the canteen and gulping most of it down.

“We got reports that a slaver truck was on the move south, we were going to ambush it but these fucking savages ambushed you first. By the time we found the truck you were long gone. From the attack we could tell it was Generates. Luckily for you, we knew this tribe had an encampment up here.”

“We could have used you earlier, but nevertheless, thank you,” Portia said handing the canteen back.

A woman walked up, she was adorned in heavy leather combat gear and was also holding an axe. Her thick hair was pulled back into a series of braids and across her face she had three dark blue stripes going diagonally from left to right. Attached to her vest was a frag grenade painted pink, with the name SALLY, written across it. She gave Portia a quick look, then faced the man and said, “No survivors."

“Thanks, Leigh,” the man said.

“Who’s this?” Leigh asked.

“A survivor from the slave truck,” the man answered.

“Then it wasn’t a total loss,” Leigh said.

“Go gather the team, tell them to post a watch while the others look for anything of value; weapons, ammo, etcetera. We leave in ten.”

“Sounds good boss,” Leigh said and marched off.

“I suppose I should introduce myself, my name is Jacob, I’m Leviathan.”

Cal unloaded his magazine into the door. When the bolt locked back, Kyle used that as his cue; he stepped forward and kicked the doors. Unlike before the doors didn’t budge.

“He’s put something in front of them,” Kyle yelled. He stepped back out of the way.

“What do we do?” Cal asked.

Kyle looked around, when he spotted the fireplace an idea popped in his head. “We’ll smoke him out.” Kyle ran to the fireplace and turned it on. “Grab me those papers and the waste basket near the desk.

“What are you guys doing, hurry the hell up!” Tommy said. All around him pieces of the door and frame flew as gunfire hit all around him. “I’ve been lucky but luck will soon run out!”

Cal didn’t move.

“What are you doing? Go get me what I need!” Kyle barked.

Cal walked over to Eric’s dead body, reached inside of his jacket and removed a few items and held them up. Will these work?”

Kyle stood up and walked over to Cal, he looked at the items and said, “You had a smoke grenade, a CS grenade and flash bangs?”

“Eric was a demo guy, I suddenly thought he might have something on him.”

Kyle smiled and asked, “We’re in business.” He grabbed the flash bangs and walked to the door where a two inch opening was left from him trying to enter before. He pulled the pin on the flash bang and pushed it through the door.

Hollering came from inside the room followed by a loud explosion.

“What was that?” Cal asked.

“That my friend is a flash bang or stun grenade,” Kyle laughed. “Where the hell did Eric get those?”

“I have no idea,” Cal answered.

Moans came from the other side.

“Let’s do another for good measure,” Kyle said pulling the pin on the grenade. He pushed against the door giving him another inch of space and tossed it inside. “Oh, they’re going to fucking hate that one. A double fucking whammy.”

Screams and groans came from the room.

“Time to go in,” Kyle said as he started to push. “Help me.”

Cal got next to him and shoved hard. Slowly the door opened. With a foot opening, Kyle climbed over the dresser that blocked the door and into the room. On the floor he found Cisco rolling around in pain, blood coming from his lower abdomen. He picked up his weapons and asked, “Where’s Barry?”

Cisco pointed towards the bathroom.

“Thanks,” Kyle said then struck him in the head with the butt of his rifle knocking him out. He didn’t want him killed until he was sure Barry had the information he needed.

Cal made his way into the room and saw where Cisco pointed, he was on his way there with Kyle just behind him.

They reached the door, “Hello, Barry, its Driver Eight…”

Bullets ripped through the door missing them both.

“Barry, I’ve got a fucking real grenade here, I’m going to blast you out of there, now tell me where you sent my wife,” Kyle said, lying about the real grenade but anything to get Barry to come out.

“Fuck you,” Barry answered and shot again until he ran out of rounds. “Shit,” he cried out when he noticed he was out of magazines.

“Barry, I’m giving you one last chance. Just tell me, I won’t kill you, in fact I need you alive in order to get out of here,” Kyle said making an offer he wasn’t supposed to make.

Cal scowled at Kyle, “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Well, the deal has changed,” Kyle said.

No response from Barry.

“Barry, we’ve killed your people, your guards, no one is coming for you,” Kyle lied. It was a bad lie because Tommy was still miraculously holding off the guards from the doorway.

“I still hear the gunfire,” Barry hollered.

“Fine, you leave me no choice,” Kyle said taking a step back and raising the rifle.

Cal smiled hoping Barry would get struck by a bullet.

A thought came to Kyle. Why hasn’t he shot back? He let that simmer for a second and made a rash decision thinking he was out of ammunition. He lowered the rifle and kicked the door. It burst open.

Barry jumped into the shower.

Kyle raced into the room with Cal just behind. He ran up on the shower, raised his rifle and said, “Got ya’.”

“Don’t shoot, I’ll tell you where she went, just don’t shoot.”

“Tell me now!” Kyle yelled.

“No, then you’ll kill me.”

“I told you I need you to get out of here,” Kyle replied.

“No.”

Kyle grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him out of the shower.

“That wasn’t part of the deal. Any second longer he’s alive is another second he has a chance of escaping. I won’t risk that.”

“He’s our bargaining chip on getting out of here,” Kyle said pulling Barry along with him.

“Kyle!” Tommy yelled.

“Coming,” Kyle hollered back.

They exited the bathroom. Kyle looked over and said, “Check on Cisco.”

“Will do.”

Kyle and Barry exited the room to find Tommy still engaged with guards but using on one arm. “You alright?” Kyle asked.

“I got fucking shot, twice, my left arm if totally fucked.”

Cal emerged from the room, “Cisco is dead. He had a bad wound to his stomach.”

“He’s a brave man, he jumped on that last grenade you threw in,” Barry said.

“Shit, looks like you’re my only source. You can’t die, you hear me,” Kyle said to Barry. “Hold him, let me check on Tommy,” Kyle ordered Cal.

Cal happily took Barry.

“What can I do?” Kyle asked reaching Tommy just as a few shots smashed into the door above their heads.

“Get us the hell out of here,” Tommy answered.

“I think we use Barry as a bargaining chip,” Kyle said.

“Hey, Driver Eight!” Cal called out.

Kyle turned to see Cal holding a pistol to Barry’s head.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kyle asked walking towards Cal his arm out motioning for him to lower the pistol.

“If he kills me you’ll never know where I sent your wife,” Barry cried out knowing his life was hanging in the balance.

“Cal put the pistol down. I need to know where my wife is, we made a deal.”

“What did you say? Well, the deal has changed,” Cal snarled then pulled the trigger of his Glock 17. A single nine millimeter round struck Barry in the temple, traveled through his brain and exited out the other side, taking parts of his skull and brain with it.

Barry dropped to the floor dead.

“No!” Kyle cried out. He looked at Barry on the floor, the blood pouring out and pooling around him. With Barry dead so was the chance on knowing exactly where Portia could be.

“Your turn,” Cal said turning the pistol on Kyle.

A shot rang out behind Kyle and struck Cal in the chest followed by a second, then a third. Cal recoiled and fell to the ground. He clawed at the three wounds in his chest.

Kyle walked over to Cal and hovered above him. “You took the one chance I had to save my wife.”

“Payback,” Cal said referring to Dana.

Tommy ran over, “Kyle we have to go, I can’t hold them off anymore.”

Kyle looked at the large plate glass window. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“Only spiders and tight places and right now this place is getting a bit tight.”

“We have one major problem, how the hell are we getting five floors down?”

“Then we need to go out into the hall, to the left at the far end is a stairwell. No one has come up it but I don’t know why?”

“Maybe it’s locked,” Kyle said.

Tommy looked to the door, “Bro, we can’t stand here talking, we need to go, now.”

Kyle looked down at the two remaining grenades on his belt. “We go for the door now,” he said running to the suite entrance. He peeked around the corner and saw seven guards slowly maneuvering down towards them. One took a shot when they saw him poke his head out.

Tommy came up behind him and said, “How’s it look?”

“Seven.”

“My lucky number,” Tommy said and grunted in pain when he shifted to get ready to run. The entire left side of his shirt was soaked in blood.

Kyle pulled the pin on the smoke grenade, stepped out and threw it. The spoon flew and the grenade popped. Smoke immediately began to pour out of it. He took the CS grenade, did the same thing and threw it. With the smoke providing cover and the gas grenade immobilizing the guards they sprinted from the door towards the stairwell entrance.

Tommy took several steps and tripped over something lying in the hall.

Kyle stopped, picked him up and said, “Come on, buddy, no time to be lying around.” He got Tommy to his feet and could see he wasn’t doing well. His face was ashen and sweat was pouring down his face.

“I’m good,” Tommy said pushing Kyle to go.

The two began to move when a volley of gunfire came at them.

Tommy took a round in the back and fell to the ground hard, his face smacking the floor. Kyle spun around and returned fire. He grabbed Tommy by the collar and began to drag him. The stairwell door was only a few feet away but it seemed like a mile. More gunfire came their way but luckily it missed them. With one arm pulling Tommy, Kyle was firing back with his other. He reached the door, and kicked it open. “C’mon buddy,” Kyle said dragging Tommy into the stairwell. “How ya’ doing?” he asked.

Tommy coughed up blood but keeping with his tough as nails persona, replied, “Never been better.”

“Can you stand?”

A serious look came over Tommy as he coughed hard. He spit out a mouthful of blood and said, “Bro, I’m fucking done. Leave me. Go.”

“Never,” Kyle said reaching down to lift Tommy up.

“No, leave me.”

“Not going to happen,” Kyle said picking Tommy up in a fireman’s carry. The first few steps was difficult but soon Kyle adjusted to the added weight. One flight after another he went. He saw a sign posted about the parking garage. He passed the main floor and kept going down. Above him, he heard the door open and people enter the stairwell, their voices echoed down pushing him harder. He took the last step there was onto a landing, the sign on the door read, PARKING GARAGE. He opened it and walked in. The cavernous space was mostly empty except at the far end he saw a line of vehicles. He raced for them. His legs were fatiguing but he knew if he stopped they’d both die. Arriving at the first vehicle he checked to find it locked. Car after car he went, every one of them locked. He turned a corner and there like a shining gem was his truck. “No way,” he said out loud. All he could think was Barry had driven it over here to store. He ran as hard as he could towards it.

The door he exited at the far end of the garage burst open and guards poured out.

Hearing they were coming he pushed even harder until he reached his truck. “We made it buddy, can you believe my truck is here?” he asked placing Tommy carefully into the truck bed.

Tommy mumbled something unintelligible, his eyes shut.

Kyle knelt down and ran his hand under the lip of the truck’s body until he found what he was looking for, a spare key. He removed the magnetic canister, slid it open and let the key fall into his hand. “Thank God,” he said out loud. He unlocked the truck, jumped behind the wheel, and inserted the key. He pressed his eyes closed and said a quick prayer, “Start up, please.” He turned the key and the engine roared to life. Not wasting another second, he put the truck into drive and smashed his foot against the accelerator. The truck lunged forward. He turned the wheel hard left and sped towards the exit. In between him and escaping stood the seven guards who were in pursuit from the fifth level.

Seeing the truck coming at them, they jumped out of the way.

Kyle turned the wheel hard to the right and smashed through the gate and out onto the drive. He made a hard left and again slammed the accelerator down. The truck’s throaty exhaust roared like a lion. Ahead of him was the second gate. The guard saw him coming but didn’t know what to do except get out of the way. Like the garage gate, he plowed through that. The last remaining obstacle was the main gate. Like the others, Kyle’s plan was to run right through it. However this time, the guards were ready.

Two guards stepped in the middle of the drive and began to fire. The rounds hit the truck but weren’t enough to stop it. Unrelenting, Kyle pushed the pedal down as far as it would go. When the truck exploded through the heavy metal gate, he was going over ninety miles per hour.

The events of the past few hours turned out to be a complete failure. He’d risked it all and barely got out of there alive. The Underground would count the night as a victory but it came at a huge cost for Kyle. The one man who knew where Portia had been taken was dead and he was nowhere closer to finding her than he was hours ago.