Quarantine (The Shadow Wars Book 7.5) (13 page)

“Do it,” the killer said, only it wasn't the killer's voice, it was Amy's voice. “Finish it, Allan.”

“No,” he said softly.

“
Do it Allan
!”

“No!”

He turned the gun away from himself, aimed it directly up into the killer's helmeted head and began to squeeze the trigger.

But he hesitated, stopped. “No, that's not the right answer,” he whispered.  “Fuck you, I won't do it. This isn't the answer,” he said, then he dropped the gun.

The killer remained perfectly immobile, but around him, the apartment began to shake and shudder. Pictures fell off the walls, furniture was toppled, it was like an earthquake was hitting the building, the whole city.

Slowly, the killer began fading away, growing less substantial.

Something fell from above, hit him on the head and he blacked out.

* * * * *

“I think he's coming out of it...”

“Allan, can you hear me?”

The world was pure darkness. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, it became gray.

“Give him a minute.”

The gray was lightening. It took monumental strength, but he managed to open his eyes. There were shapes, curious shapes hovering overhead.

“Hey, are you okay? Can you speak?”

The two shapes resolved into familiar faces. Hawkins, and...

“Callie.” He laughed weakly.

“Congratulations, Allan, you've survived. Whatever it was you did in there worked. How do you feel?” Hawkins asked.

“Like hammered shit,” Allan whispered. “I could sleep for a week.”

Hawkins chuckled. “I told you so.”

Allan could feel himself beginning to slip away, like he'd been awake for days and his body was just giving up and giving in to lethargy.

“Callie,” he whispered, reaching up. She reached out and took his hand, leaning in. Her skin was warm and smooth. “When I get out of here, will you go on a date with me?”

Callie smiled, leaned down and kissed his forehead. “
Yes
. I've been waiting for you to scrape together the courage to say that. I was about to ask you myself.”

“Sorry it took so long...” The darkness was sweeping in now. “I have to sleep. I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“It's okay. Sleep now. I'll be here.”

He wanted to say more, but his eyelids closed.

Allan wasn't worried, though. Something had changed, something deep and fundamental. He remembered what had actually happened, back then. He'd pulled the trigger. The gun had partially misfired, saving his life. They'd dug a few fragments of bullets out of his brain and modern medical technology was so good that he didn't have any scars. As time went on, after he'd joined SI, he must have just...forgotten.

Or, he supposed, repressed the memory.

As he drifted off, he began to feel something he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

Hope.

About the Author

Sean A. Lusher was born in the Midwest. Raised on a diet of Goosebumps and YA Horror, he eventually graduated to mature fiction and began cutting his teeth on the likes of Simon R. Green's Deathstalker series and Bob Mayer's Area 51 novels. Currently, he lives in Columbia, MO with his wife, two cats and some guy named Chester.

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QUARANTINE. Copyright
©
by S. A. Lusher. All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entire coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.