Apokalypsis , Morris, Kate [best classic romance novels TXT] 📗

Tristan nodded and considered that. He was right. The snow made them less sure-footed, too, but the monsters might not be. They needed silencers on their weapons because firing them would only draw more, and this town clearly had no shortage of them. After tonight, he planned on figuring out how to make one homemade.

“Can’t we just shoot them?” Roman asked.

“It could draw more,” he said. “A lot more.”

He knew Roman was waiting for an order, but Tristan was unsure. This was new territory for him. Typically, decisions came fast and were always right, or most of the time were right. Other times, he improvised. This could not be one of those times. Too much was riding on it. Plus, he never cared before whether he lived or died. Now he was responsible for a lot of people, including Avery and the kids. Alex and Stephanie were waiting with that girl, and Alex could hardly just carry her all the way home. He knew he couldn’t just wing it this time.

“The bathrooms,” he said, inspiration striking.

“What about them,” Roman asked.

“C’mon,” he told him and nodded over his shoulder.

They ran quickly but stealthily until they reached the building. Unfortunately, the bathrooms were locked with padlocks for some reason.

“Damnit,” he swore and dug out a tiny screwdriver he kept in his pack. Working in the dark was difficult, but he managed to get the lock undone and removed. “Get in, Roman.”

The bathroom must’ve been treated with antifreeze because none of the pipes were burst yet, probably the reason the city must’ve locked them up.

“What are we doing? Hiding?”

“No, let’s create a diversion,” he said.

Like most public park restrooms, the tops of the stalls were open to the outside for cheaper ventilation. There was probably a good two feet of open space at the top around the entire wall of stalls.

He whipped his pack to the ground, “Hold a flashlight for me.”

Roman quickly took his out and aimed it at Tristan’s pack as he dug around to find what he needed. Then he grabbed handfuls of paper towels from the dispenser, found a whole unopened roll of them sitting on top of it, and some toilet paper rolls, which he unfurled, and stacked against the outside wall, which was rough-cut painted pinewood. Working swiftly, he unrolled a lot of the paper products until he had a pile about three feet high.

Next, he took out his lighter and flicked it to life.

“Once this takes, we’ll clear out and wait where we were before,” he said. “This ought to bring them this way.”

“Got it,” Roman agreed.

“Ready? We’re gonna have to be fast,” he said.

Roman nodded, “Yes.”

“Here we go,” Tristan said and lit the pile in front of him.

Within seconds, the dry paper products were blazing.

“Let’s go!” he whispered and rushed to the door, where he paused and slowly opened it. “Come on!”

He left the bathroom door hanging wide open to allow more oxygen flow for the fire. They ran back to the playground and squatted again behind the large jungle gym made of wood and having multiple plastic tube slides, bridges, and climbing apparatuses. Tristan could see the orange flames and puffs of dark smoke through the open space above the bathroom walls. Soon, it seemed as if the walls themselves were lit, as well, which was his intention. A fire this size should garner the attention of every night crawler in a one-mile radius.

He could see them still looking at the truck. A few were rummaging the dumpster. It was taking too long. If his fire fizzled out, they’d miss it altogether.

“Get ready,” he warned right before he whistled loudly.

That got a few to look, and when they did, they screeched like damn hyenas or something. It was awful. However, it worked, and all of those things went running for the building.

“Now,” he whispered fiercely and rose with Roman.

They ran for the truck as fast as possible with the slippery conditions. He hit the remote, which, unfortunately, made a shrill beeping sound as the security system disengaged. It pissed him off, and he made a mental note to remove whatever part of the vehicle that made it do that.

“Crap!” Roman shouted as he ran to his side of the truck.

His shout was followed by a quick pop of gunfire, a single round.

Tristan ran toward the front of the truck past his door in case Roman needed help.

“Get in!” Roman yelled. “Go, go!”

He ran back and hopped in, hitting the locks and firing it up.

“What happened?”

“Crawler,” he said. “Sorry, it startled me. I didn’t have a chance to do anything but shoot. It was right on me, squatted on the ground on my side.”

“It’s okay,” he said and backed up, spinning out.

A loud thump made the truck shake.

“One of ‘em’s in the bed!” Roman yelled.

He hit the 4x4 button, let it engage, and stepped on the gas. The truck jolted forward.

“Wait till we’re out on the road,” he said to Roman, who knew what he meant.

Once they were moving and on the street again, Roman rolled down his window, twisted backward, and leaned out it. He fired one round, which was followed by an inhuman scream.

“It’s gone,” he yelled and eased back in, rolling up the window. “Jesus!”

“It’s okay,” he said, trying to reassure the kid. “We’re good, right? You okay? You hurt?”

“No, sir. I’m fine.”

Tristan drove as fast as he could, given the conditions, and hurried back to the house where men had done horrible things to young women.

Alex literally walked out the front door carrying the girl the second he pulled into the driveway before he’d even put it in park. Tristan noticed that Stephanie was doing a good job covering him, too.

“Get lost?” she asked in a snide tone once they were all in the truck and on the road again.

“Steph, we had trouble,” Roman told her as if irritated by the girl with the bad attitude that was always lurking beneath the surface. Tristan had known girls like