Free Apocalypse Soldier by William Massa Page A

building up to something big. Talon knew he’d have to make his move before the sun came up, use the cover of night to his advantage.  
    The plan he’d cooked up with Casca was simple. Once the asset was secured, he’d make a go for a nearby private airport where one of Casca’s private planes would be waiting for them, fueled up and ready for extraction. The soldiers would undoubtedly attempt to hunt them down, but with any luck they’d already be in the air before then. At least that was the idea.
    Talon left the concealment of the ridge and moved toward the farm in a half-crouch, swiftly navigating the patches of sagebrush and rocky terrain. For a moment, he was back in Afghanistan, his muscle memory and training taking over. In Silicon Valley, he’d been out of his element, exposed and vulnerable in the urban landscape. But out here in the desert, he became just another hunter blending in with the darkness. He reached the fence that enclosed the farm and removed a pair of wire cutters from his belt. Minutes of working the barbed wire produced an entrance through the barricade. Luckily the fence wasn’t electrified.  
    Once inside the property, Talon made a go for the stables. There was focus and purpose to his rapid movements and it took him less than a minute to reach the wall of the first building. He pressed himself against it and breathed deeply. Easing the silenced Glock from his holster, he edged forward, the barrel of the pistol nosing ahead, his senses locking on the enemies standing guard in the night. His muscles tensed in anticipation of the upcoming combat. He hadn’t been able to prevent Nicole from falling into the clutches of this cult, but he hoped he wasn’t too late to save her.  
    Talon eyed the quiet, darkened windows of the nearby structures. Nothing moved. The guards circling the stables were no doubt keeping their eyes out for cops or federal agents who would announce their arrival with flashing red-blue lights and screaming sirens. They weren’t expected one lone soldier garbed in black to be sneaking up on them.  
    One of the guards sensed his approach but reacted too slowly. Talon’s gloved hand closed around the guard’s masked face as the knife went in right below the base of the skull, severing the brainstem. He let go of the cultist, and a lifeless sack of meat and bone hit the ground. A second man responded and caught a flash of silver as Talon’s Ka-Bar shot toward him. A moment later he was choking on his own blood, his fingers helplessly clutching the hilt of the blade buried deep in his throat.  
    Talon regarded the dead men, feeling nothing. They were enemy combatants in a war as savage as any being fought on the planet, one with even higher stakes. Silicon Valley had been his crucible. The man who had entered the Omicron offices had been a soldier; the man who had left that same building after defeating Zagan was the occult assassin.  
    His gaze ticked toward the pick-up trucks parked near the stables and a dark smile split Talon’s face. He was looking forward to raining down some hellfire on these Satanists.  

C HAPTER T WELVE

    NICOLE’S OLD NIGHTMARE had become her new reality. Her stomach burned with pain, her shirt drenched in red. Black candles flickered around the pentagram.
    The apocalypse soldier regarded her dispassionately while his army of black-clad soldier cultists ringed the unholy circle, mouthing words in a long dead language. The ceremony was going on for hours. The deep baritone of the man’s voice grew, building into a hymn of doom—a grave warrior chant calling forth an ancient evil. Her pain intensified with each successive word.  
    That first year after her exorcism, Nicole had dreaded the return of the demon. Like a cancer patient who’d gone through a successful bout of chemo, she still doubted her recovery. One way she’d rebuilt her courage and self-esteem was through physical exercise designed to toughen her body. She’d started