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I scrambled through the second hole dug by my guardians then decided to wait and see if the Readers were stupid enough to follow me. I hoped they all were, but hopes faded as only one of them stepped through the gap created by Boris ‘n Horace. I had my infra-red sight down and he was so easy it was downright scary. I shot him in the leg, he collapsed, I went over to him, stepped on his gun hand, pistol-whipped him into unconsciousness. Stamped on his balls to make sure he wasn’t faking, not a flicker, then frisked his body. Only the usual ‘Book of Revelation’ especially printed for these lunatic sons of bitches. I flung it to one side, then frowned, it had felt heavy. Keeping my eyes and gun on the brother I backed over to the book and picked it up. Started to open it then I threw it as far as possible, my pets had already dug through to the next cellar and I dived through the hole in time to avoid the explosion.
I berated myself for getting sloppy, I’d heard of the devices of course. C5 plastic explosive packed inside nails, then taped into the hollowed out book. The trigger was me opening it and I was bloody lucky to get away with it this time. I poked my head cautiously back into the other cellar and grimaced. Nails had peppered a now very dead Revelation Reader. Which begged a question, where were the other two? They surely didn’t think I was going to go back to where Morris’ corpse was, if they did, they didn’t know me. Which was probably true, actually. I turned, pulled out a razor grenade, attached it to the side of the hole. Set the trigger for ‘trembler’ and made my way through the next guardian-made exit. If they tried to follow me that way, they’d be in for a nasty one. Morris would definitely have approved.
Not wanting to think about David made it all the more difficult. Every so often, if you’re lucky, you’ll meet someone who’ll make you feel special. Morris was that someone. Okay at times he called me a disgusting, violent, devious bitch – mostly when I was throwing tinned food at him. But there were the other times, the baths together after a hard day, usually followed by….oh shit, I had to get my act together. This kind of mushy, romantic crap could wait for my memoirs. Right now, I was only interested in two things, death and destruction and how to bring them about.
The kids had come to a grinding halt in the fifth cellar. I flipped down the i.r. sight and trained it on the wall, solid rock. The row of houses must have ended here, damn – it was a bit close to our original position. I didn’t fancy poking my head above the parapet so soon. I turned slowly to scan the other walls, same thing. I looked down and saw another way out. However it would mean going further underground. Not ideal at all, not after the last encounter we had. I frowned, thinking about clowns usually made me shudder, never mind meeting them. I sat for a moment on a knackered chair and made myself recall all the occasions I had been given the screaming ab-dabs. I felt nothing, not even a hint of the tightening in the gut.
I believe I no longer gave a toss about anything except revenge. If a thousand clowns got in my way they would be dead greasepaint and bits of funny noses. I nodded to Horace ‘n Boris and they began to dig.
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In five hundred years time, most of us will be forgotten dust. But Hitler will still be remembered, God loves irony.
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Fear book 3 part 7
