Toward the Brink (Book 3) Read Online Free Page A
gun. But at least he would know he gave them the choice.
“Let’s go!” Holmes hurried the two men after they dropped their pistols and extra magazines at the feet of the Chamber members. Holmes took one final look—he shouldn’t have—to the rear of the plane. The level of the screams started to die, along with the soldiers. In the distance, a million burning red dots danced like fireflies in the dark: the eyes of foamers. A sprawl of bodies, sounds of gnawing, tearing, and ripping. Muffled screams and cries, and the odd call for Mama. No matter how many battles, how many scars, soldiers still cried out for Mama.
“Mama, please … I’m so sorry, Mama, please help me—”
After the two who had given up their side arms went out the door, Holmes slammed it shut. He didn’t think the foamers would hear it, but even if they did, Holmes and his group had a good head start.
Are they capable of hearing? He wondered.
“Straight to that plane over there, straight to it,” Holmes bellowed once outside. The cold air was like a slap in the face from a woman at a bar who didn’t like your pickup line—an occurrence Holmes wasn’t unfamiliar with.
“Sir, is there anybody aboard that plane? I mean, what if it’s locked?”
“I saw it move off the runway, soldier, and it wasn’t the fucking wind. Now get a move on!”
The thunderous rumble behind them sounded like a cattle stampede, but there were no cows around here.
Holmes didn’t dare look back.
----
E lliot brought the truck around the front of the Global Express, as the Tall Man had assumed he would, and stopped just shy of the wing. He had doused the lights, lest they attract the attention of the foamers. The occupants inside the plane readied themselves for a fast exit with the single bag each was permitted to take. There was some dissension in this matter, but the Tall Man insisted, one bag per person. If it didn’t aid in their survival plans, then it had to be left behind—no arguments.
With most on the Global Express occupied with the exit plan, only the Tall Man and a few others witnessed the final surge of the foamers in the reflection of the flames. It reminded the Tall Man of what hell must be like. He’d never believed in hell—until now.
“Okay, I’ve seen enough. Let’s get out while we have the chance.” The Tall Man moved back from the window. He had no desire to see lives extinguished in such a horrid manner.
“Wait! Look at that,” Tom Transky called.
The Tall Man, the president, Tom, and Mulhaven saw a sliver of red light just below and behind the windows of the cockpit of the wide-bellied transport aircraft. The light seemed to waver on then off.
“Did someone flash a light at us?”
“No, Tom, I believe that’s the forward door. We have people escaping,” the Tall Man answered, “and they’re headed our way.”
----
“ A s soon as I get hold of Elliot, we’ll bring the truck around to the side, and you have everyone make a run for it. Okay, Riley?” the Tall Man said.
“Sure, but what are you gonna do, exactly?”
The Tall Man slapped Mulhaven on the shoulder and gave him a wink. “You’ll see.”
In a single movement, the Tall Man bounded through the door then dashed around the nose of the jet that had brought its occupants from Washington, D.C., to Canada in search of a place free of foamers, secure from the bedlam as society crumbled in panic. But it had landed in a foamer hell … out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“ELLIOT, ELLIOT! It’s me, Chuck ,” the Tall Man yelled as he approached the driver’s side of the truck. Elliot remained inside with the engine running.
“Chuck! Hey, Chuck, it’s—”
“Never mind, shove over!”
Elliot was excited to see the man he held in such high regard, but the Tall Man didn’t have time for the fond memories bullshit; he had lives to save.
“You got any left?” The Tall Man referred to the ammunition stocks of the AR-15 that Elliot
“Let’s go!” Holmes hurried the two men after they dropped their pistols and extra magazines at the feet of the Chamber members. Holmes took one final look—he shouldn’t have—to the rear of the plane. The level of the screams started to die, along with the soldiers. In the distance, a million burning red dots danced like fireflies in the dark: the eyes of foamers. A sprawl of bodies, sounds of gnawing, tearing, and ripping. Muffled screams and cries, and the odd call for Mama. No matter how many battles, how many scars, soldiers still cried out for Mama.
“Mama, please … I’m so sorry, Mama, please help me—”
After the two who had given up their side arms went out the door, Holmes slammed it shut. He didn’t think the foamers would hear it, but even if they did, Holmes and his group had a good head start.
Are they capable of hearing? He wondered.
“Straight to that plane over there, straight to it,” Holmes bellowed once outside. The cold air was like a slap in the face from a woman at a bar who didn’t like your pickup line—an occurrence Holmes wasn’t unfamiliar with.
“Sir, is there anybody aboard that plane? I mean, what if it’s locked?”
“I saw it move off the runway, soldier, and it wasn’t the fucking wind. Now get a move on!”
The thunderous rumble behind them sounded like a cattle stampede, but there were no cows around here.
Holmes didn’t dare look back.
----
E lliot brought the truck around the front of the Global Express, as the Tall Man had assumed he would, and stopped just shy of the wing. He had doused the lights, lest they attract the attention of the foamers. The occupants inside the plane readied themselves for a fast exit with the single bag each was permitted to take. There was some dissension in this matter, but the Tall Man insisted, one bag per person. If it didn’t aid in their survival plans, then it had to be left behind—no arguments.
With most on the Global Express occupied with the exit plan, only the Tall Man and a few others witnessed the final surge of the foamers in the reflection of the flames. It reminded the Tall Man of what hell must be like. He’d never believed in hell—until now.
“Okay, I’ve seen enough. Let’s get out while we have the chance.” The Tall Man moved back from the window. He had no desire to see lives extinguished in such a horrid manner.
“Wait! Look at that,” Tom Transky called.
The Tall Man, the president, Tom, and Mulhaven saw a sliver of red light just below and behind the windows of the cockpit of the wide-bellied transport aircraft. The light seemed to waver on then off.
“Did someone flash a light at us?”
“No, Tom, I believe that’s the forward door. We have people escaping,” the Tall Man answered, “and they’re headed our way.”
----
“ A s soon as I get hold of Elliot, we’ll bring the truck around to the side, and you have everyone make a run for it. Okay, Riley?” the Tall Man said.
“Sure, but what are you gonna do, exactly?”
The Tall Man slapped Mulhaven on the shoulder and gave him a wink. “You’ll see.”
In a single movement, the Tall Man bounded through the door then dashed around the nose of the jet that had brought its occupants from Washington, D.C., to Canada in search of a place free of foamers, secure from the bedlam as society crumbled in panic. But it had landed in a foamer hell … out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“ELLIOT, ELLIOT! It’s me, Chuck ,” the Tall Man yelled as he approached the driver’s side of the truck. Elliot remained inside with the engine running.
“Chuck! Hey, Chuck, it’s—”
“Never mind, shove over!”
Elliot was excited to see the man he held in such high regard, but the Tall Man didn’t have time for the fond memories bullshit; he had lives to save.
“You got any left?” The Tall Man referred to the ammunition stocks of the AR-15 that Elliot
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