Lockey vs. the Apocalypse by Meadows, Carl (love novels in english .TXT) 📗

The radio crackled into life, bang on noon.

“I’m here.”

That was it. No threats, no heat in his voice. Just a hollow statement.

“As are we,” replied Nate.

“You’re the old soldier, huh? Keep that mouthy bitch off the line this time, so the adults can talk.”

I wrapped my hand around Nate’s just to press the talk button and spat out a quick sentence before he pulled it away from me.

“I’m still here, you rampant spunk-trumpet.”

Impulse control issues, remember?

Nate shook his head and I settled back down.

“I think we can both agree, Mr Bancroft” said Nate, staring daggers at me. “This situation can’t go on.”

“On that we do agree,” answered King Shit. “And there should be restitution on your part.”

Well, Nate did not like that at all.

“Elaborate,” was all he said. Such economy of words at times.

“This all started when you murdered my brother,” said Bancroft. “Then you murdered another of my men and stole from me. Then you murdered more of my people at the petrol station, with cold-hearted entrapment and ambush. Then you attack us again on two fronts; while we’re trying to resupply to keep the lights on, and then you came to my home and committed murder on my property. Nate, is it? Well, Nate, it seems to me that all the killing has been done on your side of the fence. As an extra, you’ve now killed two of my kin, as my brother Connor was killed when you hit our fuel run. You know he served in Iraq? He’d only been back three months before all this went down. Survived the Taliban but killed by an old veteran. It’s a cruel world.” His voice hardened over the airwaves, sounding like he was speaking with a clenched jaw. “But it’s made more cruel by Connor being killed by one of his own.”

Nate absorbed all this in silence, and if the death of a fellow soldier at his hand pained him, he gave nothing away. He let Bancroft sit in silence for a good thirty seconds, staring into space. Then he clicked the mic.

“First up, I gave your ape brother a chance to walk away,” said Nate, dispassionate. “He chose to draw, and I defended myself. Let’s not gloss over the threats he made to my friend, which were less than tasteful.”

Nate left that with Bancroft for a second, but kept his hand clamped over the talk button. The airwaves were his right now.

“Second up, your man on the court building opened fire on a vehicle we were travelling in, with intent to kill. It was unlikely he knew it was us, as it was not at the scene where your brother’s friends were present. So, unless your man went rogue, he was under your orders to take no chances, and take any unknowns down. That is not the act of a reasonable leader if that’s the case, but a despot. If he was rogue, then we were within our rights to defend ourselves. It became very clear to Erin and I, from listening to your radio chatter and your obvious thirst for blood that your actions displayed, that we had to take the initiative against you.”

“By killing innocent men?”

Nate shocked even me then, as he laughed down the mic.

“Innocent?” Nate looked genuinely amused by Bancroft’s hard-faced claim of his men being innocent. “Your dogs follow your orders, for whatever scraps you choose to feed them. A man always has a choice, Mr. Bancroft, and your men chose to terrorise innocent people, hoard resources, and kill on command.”

“You mean like soldiers?” said Bancroft in a lofty tone.

“I see what you’re trying, but I’m not biting. Our leaders had to be held accountable for their choices, but I’m not going to debate philosophy with a man who keeps slaves, forcing women to be items of property that get used and abused at a whim. Don’t try and pat your pockets of morality, Mr. Bancroft, for they are empty, and your accusations are little more than blanks in your gun of superiority. They make a loud bang, but they can’t hurt me.”

I don’t know how he did it, but somehow Nate made saying “Mr. Bancroft” thoroughly disrespectful, like he was using the formal address in an ironic way. Nate’s got some skills, yo.

There was silence for a time, the three of us waiting patiently. Well, Nate and Freya waited patiently. Patience isn’t one of my virtues, so I was as jumpy as a one-legged cat trying to piss on a frozen lake. I really hated this guy. He was rotten at the core.

It was a good couple of minutes before the handset crackled into life again. It sounded like Bancroft was outside from the ambient noise around him.

“Make a lot of noise, do I?”

There was a challenge to Bancroft’s tone. That cold voice was back, the one that spoke when the demon in him awakened, and I couldn’t help but feel a chill of foreboding.

“Open it,” he said to someone, leaving the mic open. Immediately, there were sounds of panic. “Those two.”

The three of us shared horrified glances. Freya’s hand went to her mouth, my fists bunched and teeth ground against each other, whilst Nate’s jaw tightened.

“Seeing as how you killed so many of my people, I guess we won’t need as many whores to keep their dicks wet at night, eh?” The screaming intensified, unintelligible pleading coming through the handset, before a single gunshot made Freya and I blanch. Nate took a long breath, his eyes closing for a second. When they re-opened, they were hooded and dark.

I flinched again at the second shot.

“You took two of my brothers, I’ve taken two of your precious slaves,” he hissed. “And you know what, I think I might just take a few more. After all, I’m a little behind your body count.”

“A man’s choices define him, Mr. Bancroft,” breathed Nate, his voice so soft. Despite the heat of the summer day,