Lockey vs. the Apocalypse by Meadows, Carl (7 ebook reader TXT) 📗

to wrap his mind around Tucker’s declaration. Command the dead? What in the Lord’s name was that supposed to mean?

“Those who do not choose to join the Children of the Resurrection are the enemy of humanity’s restoration. If you do not surrender and come of your own volition, Officer Dean, then you will leave me no choice. If you will not obey us in life, then you will do so in death. Your five minutes begin now.”

“What are we going to do?” whispered Sarah.

Dean turned to look at the three frightened faces staring at him, hoping for salvation, their trust and faith in him absolute. It broke his heart.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Your five minutes are up, Officer Dean,” called Tucker. “I would have your answer now.”

“I’m coming out!” he shouted. “Don’t shoot! Just me first, okay?”

“Agreed.”

There was no other solution Dean could find. Fighting them alone was out of the question, as they would likely breach from the rear of the building while pinning him at the front. He could not fight them alone and refused to risk the lives of the three youngsters. Needing time to figure out a solution, the only way to gain that time safely was by complying.

Taking a deep breath, he moved into sight, holding the rifle above him, one hand on the barrel, and the other on the stock. Tucker nodded in satisfaction as he appeared and seemed a man of his word. The shotgun, SMG, and rifle all remained pointed his way, but no order to fire was given.

“Walk round your vehicle, hands still up, and get on your knees.”

Tucker’s confidence was so high, he had not bothered to draw his own massive revolver. Hands on hips, a tiny smirk haunting the corner of his mouth, he watched as Dean slowly made his way round his bullet-shredded SUV into full view and lower himself to his knees.

“Good man. Sensible. Now, very slowly, lower the rifle to the ground.” Dean obeyed. “Again, nice and slow, take one hand and draw the pistol with two fingers and throw that with the rifle.”

Dean moved his hand slowly towards the Glock, keeping his eyes on Tucker.

Simmons suddenly crumpled as he was threaded by three rounds, a burst from an unseen rifle ripping up his chest, neck, and head, as the MP5 went spinning from his hand. Half a second later, Tipps’ face vanished as a high velocity round smashed into the bridge of his nose, the rifle falling from nerveless fingers as he lay still. His lifeless corpse then slipped from sight into the Humvee.

At the initial three-round burst, Lloyd’s shotgun spun around looking for the unseen assailant, shocked at the sudden assault as his two companions were executed. With Tucker unprepared, no guns trained on him, and his hand only inches from drawing the Glock, Dean snapped the weapon out of the holster and double-tapped Lloyd in the chest and head. The first round hit the Kevlar vest, punching the air from his body, but the second hit him just below the left eye and he collapsed.

Tucker whirled back to Dean, his hand moving to draw the revolver, but a second three-round burst from Dean’s unseen saviour ripped him from hip to chest up his right flank. The police officer reacted from his kneeling position with another two rounds into the zealot leader, finishing the work his saviour had started.

In barely three seconds, Dean was saved.

His eyes followed the trajectory of the bullets to his left, the Glock still ready. Two people emerged from different locations about forty feet apart to join each other. One was a tall, broad man, who had the confident walk of a warrior born, smooth and balanced, with a rifle slung across his chest. A smaller, dark-haired woman emerged from a position closer to Dean, though he could not make out any features without his glasses on. She was no soldier, as she almost skipped and danced towards the taller man, handing off her rifle to him.

Then she turned towards Dean, running to him at pace, a look of purest joy lighting up her familiar features.

“Dear God,” he breathed as her face came into focus. Sheathing the Glock in shaking disbelief, he choked, “Erin?”

“Dean!” she cried, waving like a lunatic, bouncing, skipping, and pirouetting, even as she ran. “Deano!”

“Erin?” he stumbled again. “Erin!”

It was her!

She thundered the last few paces and he opened his arms wide, the speed and excitement of her leaping embrace nearly knocking him off his feet. Laughing, he folded his arms around her, tears of pure delight and relief streaming down his cheeks.

“Erin, by God,” he half sobbed. “You’re alive! Thank the Lord.”

“You big stupid ball of pant-shitting dumbfuckery,” she laughed through sobs of her own, still not letting go of her crushing hug. “We thought you were dead.”

Her words resonated deep within him and he pulled her away, setting her down and gripping her shoulders. He drank in the face he remembered, brimming with light and life, but her words awakened an urgency in him.

“We?”

Erin nodded, her brown eyes racing over every feature, hardly believing he was in front of her, before she remembered herself and slapped her forehead.

“Shit, yes. We, Dean.” Her smile widened if that was even possible. “Dean, Maria is with us! She’s alive and with us. She’s okay!”

Dean dropped to his knees with a relief so overwhelming it sucked every shred of strength from his limbs. Maria and Erin were alive, and together. He offered a prayer of thanks for watching over those most precious to him, even as he choked out a sob.

“Thank the Lord!”

“You still banging on about that magic space fairy?” laughed Erin, as excitable as a five-year old on Christmas morning. “Never mind the Lord above, Dean. If you want to thank anyone for me and Maria still kicking, thank this guy.” She threw a thumb over her shoulder at the older man as he approached. “Dean Williams, meet Nate Carter. If