Free The Lingering (Book 2): Rangers by Ben Brown Page A

into the tree.
    Two more Lingerers stood at the creature’s side, and all three charged La Roux almost as one. The big Cajun widened his stance and readied himself for their onslaught. As the first creature reached him, he raised his forearm and allowed it to sink its teeth into the thick leather of his protective coat. With that ghoul occupied, his attention turned to the second of the three. With its mouth open so wide it almost looked as if it had unhinged, it leaped into the air and flew toward his throat. The Cajun held his ground, and lunged out with his knife. With a grisly thunk-slurp, his blade found the creature’s skull and entered bone and brain alike. The ghoul’s aerobatic flight stopped as soon as his head slammed into the knife’s hilt. With its brains obliterated by his blade, it dropped harmlessly to the dirt at the big Cajun’s feet.
    Now the third of the undead drew closer, so La Roux drove his shoulder into the creature latched to his arm, and charged toward the third Lingerer. He hit it hard and continued back toward the tree the creature had hit only moments earlier. The three of them, two undead and one living, slammed into the tree, which made the Lingerer chewing on his arm release its bite. As quick as a snake, La Roux pierced its head with his blade, and then he did the same to the one pinned to the tree. More groaning filled the clearing behind him, and La Roux turned to see at least ten undead heading his way.
    He holstered his knife and pulled both his six-shooters. Damn the noise, the time for hand to teeth combat is over. Now the real killing will begin, he thought as he prepared for the onslaught.
    Raising both guns at once, La Roux moved toward the undead and opened fire. His breathing was level, as were his emotions. He had done this many times before. One head, one bullet. He opened fire and began felling the foul smelling creatures who were so intent on tasting his blood. With each shot, a Lingerer fell, but almost instantly another took its place. The first of his six-shooters ran dry, and he threw it in the air and caught it by its barrel. The metal was hot, but his leather gloves absorbed much of the heat. Soon, his other gun ran dry; again, he threw it in the air and caught it by the barrel.
    He now stood astride Callum like a sentinel. A creature missing half its face ran at him, but the Cajun brought one of his guns down on its head like a club. Its skull exploded like a ripe melon, bathing both the Cajun and Callum in blood and brains. He only hoped none of the gore made its way into Callum’s unconscious mouth, but there was little he could do if it had. He had no time to worry about such things, so instead he concentrated on killing. Again and again, the creatures attacked, but like Samson with his donkey’s jawbone, La Roux clubbed them away with ease.
    Before the tide of undead subsided, the Cajun had caved in the skulls of around ten undead with his six-shooters. With his chest heaving from his exertion, La Roux waited for more undead to arrive, but none came. He looked around the tiny moonlit clearing, and counted close to thirty lifeless bodies. Had he really killed that many Lingerers single-handedly? He guessed he had.
    A groan brought him back from his thoughts, and he looked down at the man beneath him. Callum was beginning to wake, which meant it was time to go. La Roux stepped to one side as he holstered his blood soaked guns, then he bent to pick up the injured Ranger at his feet. In the mayhem of protecting his fallen companion, La Roux had noticed very little about Callum’s condition. It was then he noticed his friend was missing a hand.
    The Cajun froze. Had Callum been bitten? La Roux drew his knife and readied himself to dispatch the young Ranger. He placed the tip of his blade inside Callum’s ear, and then took a closer look at the young Ranger’s injured wrist. He lifted the mutilated stump closer to his eyes and studied the wound closely. It showed