Dark Creations: Dark Ending (Part 6) (2 page)

Arnold tried to tune them out, to tune out their vulgar language and boisterousness.  By the time he’d finished his burger and ordered another pitcher of beer, the men had become so wild, he contemplated leaving.  But the thought of returning to the van seemed more unappealing than remaining in
the company of the loud louts.  And he could not bring his beer with him.  So he stayed, savoring and sipping his drink. 

It wasn’t until he glanced at his watch that Arnold realized he’d been sitting at the Dew Drop Inn for four hours.  That much of a delay had not been planned
.

“Excuse me,” he tried to get the bartender’s attention. 

The redhead rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and walked over to him.

“Yes,” she said with fake happiness nearly as transparent as he was. 

“I would like my bill please,” he said.

The bartender sighed and blinked her false eyelashes several times before turning from him wordlessly and went to the cash register.  She came back with the check and placed it before him without
so much as a
have a nice night
or
thank-you.

He promptly removed his wallet and covered the cost of his tab along with a small tip.  The bartender swiped the money and the check and grumbled about the small gratuity. 

Horrified by her disappointment, Arnold called her over again.  “Excuse me?” he said.  “I have something else for you.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” she huffed at him
and frowned.

Without warning, Arnold lunged from his barstool and clutched the back of her ridiculous dyed red hair and, with speed and strength no one would have guessed he possessed, he slammed her face into the bar.  He pulled her head back and looked upon her face.  Blood poured from her nose and lips unpleasantly, smearing over her abundant cleavage and too-tight T shirt. 

Her eyes locked on his, and for the first time, he had her undivided attention.

“Uh, I’m so glad
you are paying attention to me now,” he said in his calm, feminine voice.  “I would have liked it earlier, but you were too busy I guess.”

She tried to reply, but only made a gurgling sound as blood trickled from between her lips.

“Shh,” he shushed her.  “It’s too late now,” he whispered before gripping her head between his small hands and twisting it sharply to one side, snapping her neck as easily as he would have a thin, dried branch.

Screams tore through the small bar
from the few people who remained, along with a string of obscenities, before a shotgun wielding man wearing an apron burst from the kitchen area.  But before the man could raise the weapon and aim it in his direction, Arnold ripped a small, semiautomatic handgun from his waistband and fired three shots into the man’s head.  The man’s shotgun dropped to the floor seconds before he did. 

Arnold felt alive, truly alive, for the first time in days.  His blood was pumping through his veins so forcefully he could feel its fitful pulsation throughout his entire body.  Every part of him hummed with energy.  He felt lithe and mighty, like an unassuming jungle cat amid a pen of unsuspecting prey. 

The men at the corner table all stood, except for the one who had barreled past him on his way in and mocked him at the bar.  He remained seated and watched in horror as Arnold put a bullet in each of their heads. 

Arnold ejected his
ammunition clip and replaced his gun to his waistband then walked toward the burly brute slowly. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” the man said with confidence.  But his eyes widened slightly, and Arnold felt buoyed by his small tell. 
Still, the man rose to his feet and clumsily charged Arnold as if it were an obligatory act his testosterone saturated brain demanded he perform.  Arnold stifled a giggle as he sidestepped the man easily and he slammed into a table before tumbling to the floor.  The man sat up sluggishly, but his eyes never left Arnold. 

Arnold sauntered toward him leisurely and picked up an empty beer bottle along the way.
As soon as he was within arm’s reach of the man, he raised the bottle high over his head then brought it crashing down against the man’s skull.  Glass shards splintered and spewed in every direction as the flared bottom of the bottle broke.  The man fell back against the floor and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Uh, excuse me?”
Arnold said in his gentle voice.  “No, no, no.  It’s not time to sleep,” he continued, still grasping the now broken bottle. 

The man’s eyes focused on Arnold long enough for him to see the sharpened edge of the bottle depress into his throat.  Gore drained from it, seeping rapidly
and saturating the man’s denim jacket and pants.  He begged for help, his voice a strangled, high-pitched whisper.

“Help me,” he pleaded and Arnold lowered his face close to the man’s face.  He gazed at the exposed flesh
on the man’s neck and felt an undeniable stirring in his groin.  He hoisted the broken bottle high and brought it down against the man’s neck, stabbing the tender skin there over and over.  Blood splashed and sprayed in every direction, splattering on his glasses and lips.  He licked them, tasted the salty, metallic taste of it, and was swept away on a rolling wave of pure bliss.

Euphoria clutched him and beset his body with a
succession of tremors so pleasurable, he felt inebriated.  He was doing what he’d been designed to do, fulfilling his destiny.  Lord Franklin Terzini had created the most inconspicuous, efficient predator humankind would never see, had ingrained in him a hatred of humanity so profound, he felt compelled to destroy them.  His maker had done so to guarantee that when the time came, he would not hesitate to afflict the world with the hellacious virus he’d been tapped to transport.  It seemed such a waste, really, that a virus would claim them all.  He’d only begun to enjoy himself. 

While the virus waited to be released, the world was a veritable feast, one that he would indulge in whenever opportunity presented itself. 
But time was ticking away, counting down to the end of days, to the dark ending of humankind.

Arnold satiated the twisting need that pooled
in his belly, compliments of the burly man who had shoved past him hours earlier.  He dabbed the dots of blood that had streaked near his mouth and pushed his glasses from the tip of his nose to its bridge before he stood and walked out of the bar.  As he made his way to the door, he passed the man who’d collapsed, drunk, at a table earlier and chuckled, for when he woke, he would have more questions that a human being could possibly process at once. 

Chapter 2

Gabriel’s heartbeat was the rhythm of a tribal war drum thundering in his ears, resonating through his body.  Venom of the most deadly kind coursed through his veins with each pound, sending its lethal toxin to every cell, demanding vengeance, demanding blood.  Every part of him was fully alert and ready to fight.  Melissa was gone, taken by a murderous monster, and he was determined to get her back.  He vowed to kill anyone or anything that stood in his way.  He had to save her. 

He did not have a plan.  He hadn’t gotten that far.  He could not concentrate long enough to formulate one.  Too much anger and frustration had mounted and kept him from any kind of rational thinking. 

Gripping the handle of the all-terrain vehicle he rode, the dark woods around him rushed and swirled in a dizzying array of fury and guilt.  The fact that he’d pushed the vehicle to its limit and was still not traveling fast enough added to his frustration.  And he still had no idea where Melissa was.  He was left to follow the blistering rage he felt like fire scorching a trail of gunpowder and retrace the route he’d just come from, the one he’d taken with Amber, Kyle and the twins. 

Shame clenched his gut and twisted
agonizingly until he felt he’d double over.  Thoughts of the path he was on reinforced that it was his fault that Melissa was gone.  He had decided to help Amber, and that decision had come with a price he had not been willing to pay.  Now Melissa was either dead or in some godforsaken place, terrified and wondering why he’d left her as he had. 

Gabriel swore and pounded a clenched fist against the handlebars.  The thought of losing her was unbearable, as was the thought of her small body trembling with terror and in the presence of a vicious, bloodthirsty beast.  Both made his insides roil and churn so violently, he felt the contents of his stomach burn up his throat.  He gulped the bitter bile and blinked feverishly, willing the horrific images flashing in his mind’s eye to disappear.  But they continued to flicker and bump through his brain like an old film reel malfunctioning, returning to
a single frame over and over again; one chilling frame.  Every muscle in his body tensed and he gritted his teeth so tightly, he thought they’d crumple as he tried to bury the fault he felt.  He deserved every bit of it, but knew it would not serve him now.  He also knew it would never leave him for as long as he lived, if he lived. 

He had to live.  Though his survival was not his primary concern, it was imperative that he survive to find Melissa and ensure that Yoshi returned to Alexandra.  It
was an unspoken promise he’d made to his friends, one he intended to keep.  He would not let them down as he had Melissa.

Melissa
.  Her name exploded in his head like a string of firecrackers.  What had he done?  He’d never wanted to put her in danger, yet all he seemed to do was place her squarely in harm’s way.  And now, she was in the worst sort of danger.  If she lived, she was experiencing her own personal hell.

Gabriel launched his fist into the handlebars again, hating himself for all he’d done, for the fact that Melissa’s life could be leaving her as he rode. 

Darkness, thick and sinister, surrounded him like a blackened shroud and matched the color of his thoughts.  He did not bother using the headlights on the ATV to slice through the gloom.  He believed it best to move like a shadow and approach Taft as stealthily as possible.  So he continued blindly and allowed primal instinct to guide him. 

He could not imagine his life without Melissa.  She was his life.  That was his battle cry.

Gabriel’s throat constricted so tightly, he struggled to breathe.  A small snarl of agony was about to escape his lips when lights illuminated the night sky up ahead and caught his attention.  He slowed to a stop and motioned to Yoshi, who rode just a few feet behind him, to catch up.  He did not want to announce their arrival,
his
arrival.  They were both headed straight into enemy territory.  But he had no intention of allowing Yoshi to go any further.  Gabriel would be damned if he put Yoshi in the line of fire.  And from what he could see, the line of fire waited nearby. 

A checkpoint had been set up.  In the distance, where the terrain around Lake Wellington bordered Taft, he could make out that a pair of uniform clad people had gathered and blocked the only entrance he knew of to town.  He and Yoshi would have to pass through it to gain access there. 

The engine of the ATV quieted from an incessant whine to a persistent purr as Gabriel stopped.  When Yoshi pulled beside him, he said, “You will hang back, all right.  Stay here,” and leveled a gaze at his friend that left no room for negotiation.  He assumed that with the headlights off, the men at the checkpoint hadn’t seen them yet.  The men would see him soon enough, but not Yoshi. 

He could not see Yoshi’s eyes clearly but felt the weight of his friend’s gaze.  When he perceived a slight nod of acquiescence, he twisted the throttle of the ATV and proceeded to the checkpoint. 

As soon as the first uniformed member came into view, Gabriel felt anger shake his body, vibrating and echoing through his core so forcefully, he felt as if the hum of an electric current buzzed through his body, charging him, urging him on, insisting their blood be spilled.  He brazenly pulled up to where the two men stood with automatic rifles slung over their shoulders, feeling searing energy roar through his veins.  One stepped in his path and raised his hand, signaling for him to halt.  Gabriel had to fight to keep himself from detonating then and there and barely managed to oblige and slow to a stop.

“Member name and identification number,” one asked evenly as soon as he stopped.  He assumed Gabriel was one of them. 

Gabriel still wore a member-issue uniform.  Despite believing he was a member for the moment, one of the men still trained his weapon on Gabriel, just inches from his face.  He wanted nothing more than to cram the muzzle of that weapon down the man’s throat and pull its trigger.  But he needed to wait.  He needed to watch and wait for his moment to act. 

When the man who’d demanded his information gathered his brow trivially, showed the slightest tick that would have been missed by most, Gabriel knew the time to act had come.  The member recognized him.

The man parted his lips to speak, but before any words befell them, Gabriel slapped the muzzle of the rifle from his face and in one lightning-fast motion, ripped his handgun from its holster at his hip and put a bullet between the armed man’s eyes.  Without hesitation, he turned it on the other man, the one who’d recognized him, and fired two more shots.  Both lodged in his forehead and dropped him immediately. 

Sweat flecked Gabriel’s brow and his pulse sprinted dangerously.  A vile thrill of excitement trilled inside him.  He could not believe how easy it had been for him to take two lives, but their deaths brought him a step closer to finding Melissa.  They were members and would have killed him without either a second thought or guilt of any kind.  And while he was nothing like them, he currently shared their lack of remorse.