Page 24 of Redemption (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #4)

“You’re fucking insane. If the virus already took out most of the population, as you believe, then there’s probably barely any of us left. It can restart now!”

He shakes his head. “No... It’s because of us—the entire expanse of human existence being plagued with metaphorical tunnel vision, manipulative perception, and a chronic case of a skewed good versus evil philosophy—that we have ruined everything.

What’s to say they won’t do it again next time?

The technology is here. The knowledge is here.

The way is here. We can’t take that chance. ”

“So you’d slaughter everyone, even innocent children who don’t know any better, just so everything restarts at zero?”

He shakes his head as his arms raise, his hands facing outward in a show of disagreement. “Oh, no. It wasn’t me who started this. But I will stand by and make sure it’s finished.”

He’s lost his goddamn mind.

“Now, back to the matter at hand.” He claps, the sound ushering in two of his lackeys he managed to persuade. “You, Baylor, Sawyer, and Domley need to head out and report back before nightfall. Are we understood?”

“Yes, Staff Sergeant.” Sawyer and Domley reply, walking into the room.

They first move toward Baylor at the window, about to detain him and push him out the door, but he lifts a single hand, resignation in his gaze as he softly says, “No need. I’ll go.

” Sawyer and Domley, satisfied with not having to bully two people out the door, nod and turn, walking over to me still slumped on the floor.

With jerking movements, they take me by my elbows, forcing me to my feet and ushering me out of the room without any other say in the matter.

“Enjoy the sunshine!” Waverly calls out to our retreating forms, causing us to look back to him and the carefree smile back on his face.

“Ooh! Don’t forget now, I like those Little Debbie Zebra Cakes if you manage to find any.

” He turns away, his slimy voice following me down the hallway as he starts singing, “ It’s the End of the World as We Know it,” his heartless—yet light-hearted—tones threatening and haunting as they slither into my brain.

This man needs to be stopped.

Some way. Somehow.

I turn back around and force my mind to clear, focusing on strengths, weaknesses, and theoretical possibilities as I try to formulate a plan.

∞∞∞

We step out into the fresh air and blinding sunshine for the first time in I don’t even know how long. Hunger and fatigue slow my movements, but I try to hide it as best as I can.

Baylor steps up next to me, the perfect facade of grit and determination, but I know, just below the surface, he’s crumbling. All the better to conceal it, however, since we have Sawyer and Domley acting as armed wardens for us as we travel to the Commissary.

Fucking Waverly.

I knew he was being too calm about everything.

How, after we barely survived the initial invasion, he wasn’t the slightest bit concerned if we were going to make it or not.

The bastard knew the entire time what he was going to do: use the rest of us as decoys while he got himself the fuck out of dodge.

Selfish asshole of a prick.

We weren’t even given any sort of weapon to protect ourselves during this little escapade.

Of course not. Why would we? Waverly doesn’t trust us any more than we trust him.

In his eyes, we’re the enemy and nothing more to him than meaningless little guinea pigs, useful only when he wants a chow run.

Zombie fodder for Zebra Cakes.

“Keep it moving. We only have about a few hours before nightfall,” Domley calls out from behind, nudging Baylor with the barrel of his rifle.

If it were me, I’d tell him to fuck himself and stop poking my ass, but the expression on Baylor’s face doesn’t change at all.

Instead, he keeps his gaze trained ahead of him, occasionally looking up to the sky for a second and then back down again.

It's different out here with him.

There’s almost a calmness that’s overtaken him since we left the radio tower. A tranquil knowledge that he doesn’t need to worry about anything anymore.

It’s concerning, to say the least.

After taking a few shortcuts and side roads, we make it to the main entrance to the Commissary. Sawyer nods to the sliding glass doors, lifting his rifle along with Domley and taking aim at it. “Alright, you two, pry open the doors. We’ll take out anything that might be on the other side.”

Once we emerged from the bunker, we noticed the power grid on base was compromised, meaning anything previously requiring electricity and unable to be converted to battery operation now requires a little bit of manpower and elbow grease to function.

Baylor and I glance at one another, hesitating.

After being run down by the infected the last time we walked these streets, the silent emptiness surrounding us is otherworldly.

Eerie. Adrenaline floods my veins as an overwhelming sense of impending doom overtakes my mind.

It feels like the part in most horror movies when the jump scare happens.

And then somebody dies. But which one of us will it be?

Baylor gently nudges his fist against my shoulder, bringing me back.

“Come on, man. Let’s just do this and be done with it.

” There’s no emotion behind it, just a resigned confirmation that there’s no other option to be had.

I nod in response, shaking my arms out as we both approach the glass doors.

A small peek inside shows the building to be empty, but I know as well as any of the others that looks can be deceiving.

“On three,” Baylor says and starts the countdown.

We cram our fingers in between the sliding glass doors and pull, overpowering the locking mechanism until the doors finally break free and open wide.

Sawyer and Domley edge forward, their weapons poised and at the ready.

They do a preliminary scan of the aisles and announce the space to be clear before pushing Baylor and myself towards a set of shopping carts.

“Alright, follow me,” Domley says as he takes point, heading down the non-perishable aisles.

All manner of canned food, crackers, chips, you name it, ends up in the carts.

It doesn’t take long before both of ours are full to the brim, but of course, we’re not done yet.

“Ah, shit. The Zebra Cakes. I think I remember those being over there by the bread.” Sawyer’s footsteps echo as he races down a few aisles to get the last item on the list. We hear the shuffling of the packages from where he left us, probably piling them high in his arms to no doubt please his newfound master, but then it sounds like he drops them all on the floor. And then... silence.

“Sawyer?” Domley calls out.

No response.

Domley turns to us, “Stay the fuck here.”

No problems there, bossman. Have at it.

He lifts his rifle to his shoulder and stalks through the store in the direction the other man went, scanning each aisle he passes as he calls out to Sawyer again.

In his absence, I turn my focus to Baylor, who I find is already looking at me.

Steely determination fills his gaze, and with a single nod, we’re on the same page.

We’re not moving a fucking inch towards where they both just went.

We might not have had the intelligence or brainpower to figure out Waverly’s plan before it blew up in our faces, but we are smart enough to not go hunting for the thing that just went bump in the dark.

It's eerily silent. Mind-numbing. The scuff of Domley’s shoes along the linoleum is barely audible as he lurks in the dark.

One by one he steps up to each endcap and peers down, letting the barrel of his gun guide him before he moves on to the next.

When he reaches aisle eighteen, however, he stops and aims his gun down the length.

A bone-chilling screech reverberates throughout the store, pulling all the air from my lungs, and in the next second, the store lights up with gunfire as Domley sends a few bursts towards whatever is down there. “SAWYER, STAY THE FUCK DOWN!”

It’s all-out pandemonium after that as bodies fly out from where Sawyer apparently was. Dozens of them overtake Domley in an instant, pinning him down under their weight as the sounds of flesh tearing, bones breaking, and his agonized screams fill the air.

Baylor and I don’t waste a second as we turn and hightail it to the exit.

We make it to the checkout counters and then to the entryway, finally racing through the glass doors before we turn around and seal them shut behind us.

Not a moment later, bodies slam into the barrier, blood splattering on the windowpanes upon impact. Thankfully, the doors hold them back.

At least for now.

“Holy fuck!” I gasp, chasing Baylor down as we race through the parking lot and as far away from the grocery store as possible.

We run, not back to where we’d come from, but away from everything, taking the road that leads to the main gates.

We go for miles, our feet and ambition and will to live propelling us farther and farther away from the swarm.

And then, after about a half an hour, it hits us.

The sound of... absolutely nothing. No zombies growling from the shadows. No deranged assholes intent on world domination. No bombs or grenades. Not even the commonplace sound of a V-22 Osprey flying overhead.

Absolutely... nothing.

Silence.

Both on the same page, Baylor and I stop right there in the middle of the road as we realize we’re all alone and, more importantly, not being followed.

We escaped. We’re free.