Lou waited for Tomas to arrive and split up the remaining fighters, so that there were four teams of six. The last two were ordered to hold the fort. Or the beachhead, as he called it.
“Andrew, your team will take that hallway. Tomas, you’ve got the other hallway.” Lou waved at the hallway on the opposite side of the lobby area. “I will take the rest upstairs and get started on that floor.”
Lou addressed the whole team next. “I wish I could tell you it will be easy. Be careful, watch each other’s backs, and we’ll all get through this. Stop at every room, open every door. Use a pike to pin or trip the deado and a club to finish them off — just like we practiced.”
Andrew cast one last look at the lobby area before turning down the hallway with his fighters.
“Don’t get any ideas with that bar, boys,” he warned the two men staying behind and watched their faces drop. “Yeah, I’m onto you. But only because that’s what I’d be thinking.”
He needn’t have bothered. There was barely any alcohol left in that bar. It had been raided. From the evidence they had found, the residents onboard the Domburg had themselves a good old party before they perished.
NOVEMBER 9, 6:15 P.M.
Henry’s Salvage and Junkyard, Seattle.
Andrew watched the last beams of sunlight dance on the top stacks of vehicles, as well as on the monster pile of rubbish outside. The office had a commanding view of the compound — which was also the reason the leadership of the group had claimed it as theirs.
This leadership consisted of a triad of Adepts. They’d survived the breach at their first location, while an Apostle and a Sage had died. Along with nearly fifty other people.
Andrew and Lou found themselves in the office, reporting to these Adepts. It had taken them two days of laborious fighting to clear all the rooms in that ship, but the place was now secure.
“We should move in right away,” said Adept Fergus, a chubby, pig-faced individual. Short and bald, too. Other than that, Andrew didn’t mind him. Fergus asked, “How fast can we get everybody moved over there?”
Lou thought for a second. “If we make a run for it, with the trucks... We can probably leave as early as tomorrow morning. I can get one team to clear the gates and have another team waiting at the ship.” Lou frowned. “The place stinks to high hell with all them deados in there. But at least it’s safe.”
“Did you not remove the bodies?” That was Adept Kyle. He was tall, good looking and styled himself the leader. He exuded arrogance and superiority. Andrew thought he was a prick.
“No, Kyle. We didn’t have time,” Lou responded.
“Adept Kyle, if you don’t mind. I didn’t dedicate half of my life to the Rosae Crucis for nothing.” He stood straight so he could look down on Lou.
Oh, shit. Andrew tensed up. Here we go!
Sure enough, Lou’s jaw clenched as he stared at Kyle. Adept Kyle, to his credit, did not flinch away.
“Look, we have to maintain order around here. All I’m asking is for you to...” Adept Kyle let his words trail off.
Ah, there it is. Cowed at last. Andrew did feel somewhat sorry for Kyle. Somewhat, but not a lot.
“Let it go, guys.” The third Adept finally spoke up. She didn’t wait for either of the alpha males to acknowledge her and stepped between the two. “Louis, so far you’ve only told us that you destroyed approximately a hundred deados on that ship. What else can you tell us?”
Andrew barely listened as Lou explained about the facilities onboard the ship. He looked at the tall, beefy woman who had jumped into the conversation. Truth was, he didn’t like Adept Penny at all. She was gay, and Andrew didn’t care too much about that — but he suspected she was jealous of their cocks. She certainly tried to act like she had the biggest one. She was pushy.
Andrew really didn’t like pushy people.
On top of that, she had worked for the local cable company before the shit hit the fan. Andrew had been fighting with them for several months. Their customer service was shit. So, another strike against Penny in his book.
Andrew watched as Lou explained the particulars of the ship to three self-entitled individuals. He didn’t bother suppressing his feeling of contempt.
This is our community’s supposed leadership? The Order had better send some more capable people soon, or there will be trouble. We’ve got one scared, pig-faced guy, one arrogant, power-hungry jerk, and one hypermasculine lesbian... Fuck, I almost wish we had that preachy Anton back.
The Apostle had been the de facto leader of their little community. But Anton had literally gotten his throat torn out.
Andrew wouldn’t have believed it was possible for one person to rip out another’s throat with bare hands if he hadn’t seen it firsthand. He remembered how Anton had stepped away on wobbly feet, his finger still pointing at the deado as if accusing it.
“You killed me!” he’d seemed to say. Then his head had flopped forward, and he’d fallen sideways onto the concrete floor.
Andrew remembered slipping on that floor as he tried to make his own escape. He remembered hands grabbing at him and finally getting pulled through that door by none other than Lou. They’d made it out of that death trap, along with over half of the group.
To this place.
But wouldn’t you just know it; the deados had found them again. It was like they had an internal radar or something. They always found you.
But that ship. Man, what a brilliant idea that was! To Andrew, it represented the one thing that had eluded him since this whole ordeal got started: sleep. A good night’s sleep. Safe and secure in a private room with its own bathroom and, hallelujah, a shower!
“We didn’t attempt to make contact with the Order, no.”
