Free Ferine Apocalypse (Novella): 4 Hours by John F. Leonard Page B

away.
    Thick mutated blood spreading an unholy halo around its unholy head.
     
    In his own way, Gallagher seemed as efficient a killing machine as Wayne Raylens.



Chapter 13
Home Run
    Pearcey squatted by Gallagher, his attention switching between the nearby monster and his kneeling friend.
    He laid a hand on the man’s shoulder and watched as Gallagher slowly lifted his head to stare at him.
    A simple nod, and he helped him stand.
     
    Pearcey wanted to embrace him. Opted for a supporting arm.
    “Are you okay?”
    Gallagher nodded again.
    “Tired. Fucking knackered, if truth be told.”
    That was good enough.
    Pearcey was tired as well. He felt like eternity had passed by and left him behind to follow.
    Faded and weary and running to catch up.
    Wayne Raylens strolled up to them. Utterly incomprehensible and verging on indispensable.
    It was ridiculous.
    Pearcey felt holed below the waterline. Buoyancy leaking away and no way of plugging the leak. That this prick was his best bet was galling beyond words. Yet, he had no choice.
    You played the odds.
    Put your money on the horse that offered the best chance of a return. After that it was a pointless exercise. You embraced your selection and accepted the outcome.
    It was useless to ponder. Worse than that, it was a distraction.
     
    Gas masked head flicking backwards and forwards.
    Unreadable.
    “The aliens are here. It’s a real fucking deal. First, they read our thoughts and took us up to study our bodies. Examined us and decided to take over by the backdoor.”
    A hideous gargling sound that might have been laughter inside the mask.
    Hard to tell. It distorted sound, the mask.
    “It’s taken them a long time and they’ve gotten careless over the years. Some of them crashed. That’s where the stories come from. Roswell and all of the rest. The vampires and the changelings. It didn’t matter by then of course, they could be as careless as they fucking-well liked. They had their mind claws into government and big business. Ran them like glove puppets. They controlled the influencers . They invented Twitter and Facebook. Did you know that?”
    Pearcey could think of nothing to say that wouldn’t be antagonistic.
    Gallagher stared blankly at the blank glass eyes of Raylens mask.
    Angela Gacek muttered something. Pearcey scarcely caught it.
    “You’re deranged.”
    He wasn’t sure if Wayne Raylens heard her. He might have. His head might have twitched in her direction.
    He didn’t say anything to her, made no sign that he’d heard her.
    But it unsettled Pearcey, the girl saying that.
    They couldn’t afford a confrontation. Not with an armed and clearly capable man, crazy or not. Not inside the store and definitely not out here, given the situation.
    Gallagher changed the subject.
    “Should we try and find another car?”
    The same thing had occurred to Pearcey.
    He wasn’t any car thief, but he thought he might be able to start something if it was old enough. Some junker from the nineties maybe.
    But that route was fraught with difficulties.
    They didn’t have the time or the option to casually stroll the streets looking for a likely candidate vehicle.
    The clock was ticking.
    Pretty soon it would be dark and that didn’t bear thinking about. He’d rather be stranded in Beirut on a bad night.
    It struck him again that he was too old for this shit.
    Nowadays, he was just a scary big black guy cut-out of a person.
    Someone to stand by semi important people and appear intimidating.
    A glorified driver with a gun who just happened to be able to shoot straight and punch hard if need be.
    The army life was well behind him, along with most of his appetite for destruction. Now, his tastes ran more to slippers and sweat pants and a quiet evening in with a bottle of bourbon and a book.
     
    Raylens pulled him out of introspection. The man shook his head, the swinging snout of the mask a darkly hypnotic fascination.
    “If we’re careful and quiet, on foot is better.