HAYWIRE: A Pandemic Thriller (The F.A.S.T. Series Book 2) (12 page)

King studied the shovel with new respect.

But only for a moment.

In his peripheral vision, movement caught his attention.

He looked around.

A woman on the pool’s edge swung a gardening pick at his head.

King lifted the shovel, but not fast enough. The crazy woman was already halfway through her attack.

King could neither move his head nor block the attack in time.

He turned his head and braced for impact.

The projectile that struck the woman was larger than a conventional bullet. Hitting her squarely in the chest, the projectile flattened and distorted into a two-inch-wide disk. The impact was enough to break ribs and compress her sternum, but not enough to penetrate.

More importantly for King, the force knocked her backward.

Her gardening tool
swished
past his head so close he felt air turbulence. The woman collapsed backward.

Her head hit the deck.

She didn’t move a muscle.

Forest dashed along the edge of the pool.

His running shot had just saved King’s life.

King surged from the pool.

Forest tossed him back his XREP. It wasn’t wet. It must have landed on the side of the pool.

‘You dropped this,’ said Forest.

King caught the rifle, but didn’t discard the shovel.

He wouldn’t be caught unarmed again.

Erin had never been so pleased to see men with guns.

Running through the ship, she had encountered more and more sick passengers. By the time she reached the water park, a small army of insane people pursued her.

If she stumbled, they would catch her.

If she took a wrong turn, they would kill her.

Only her knowledge of the ship had kept her alive. When she reached the water park and spotted the Marines, her physical reserves were spent. She was flagging desperately, drawing on pure willpower and adrenaline to keep ahead of the incensed mob.

Had the Marines arrived a minute later, she’d have stood no chance.

Even now she realized she couldn’t reach them in time.

She couldn’t reach the Marines, but she could reach the ice cream kiosk.

Cutting left through the water park, she prayed she wouldn’t slip as fountains and water features spurted water all around her. Ahead, both of the kiosk’s serving shutters gaped wide open.

She heard a Marine yelling at her, but his voice was muffled by her own ragged breathing.

This is my only chance.

She glanced back and counted five crazies chasing her.

Reaching the kiosk, she leaped up and grabbed the handle of the second roller shutter. She hauled the single shutter down. She didn’t have time to shut them both. The Marines had bought her only a few seconds. She dashed around the kiosk.

The side door stood open.

Thank God.

She ran inside and pulled the door shut.

Smack!

The door slammed on someone’s fingers.

Erin heard fingers breaking. The broken fingers tightened around the door and began pulling. Another hand appeared beside the one Erin had crushed.

Erin gripped the door handle with both hands and began a tug-of-war to keep the sick passengers out.

The door crept open by degrees.

She braced one shoe on the doorframe and pulled at the handle with all the strength in her arms and back. Slowly the door began closing again.

Suddenly more hands grasped the door from outside.

The door began creeping open. She couldn’t hold it!

She looked over her shoulder, scanning the kiosk for a fire extinguisher.

She couldn’t see one.

Her entire body shook as she lost the battle to keep the crazies out.

When a hand reached through and grabbed her wrist, she knew the door was lost.

At least four crazies were outside the door now. She’d counted five of them chasing her toward the kiosk.

She needed them all at the door when she made her next move.

Her next move was a simple one.

She let go.

She just released the handle so the door catapulted into the faces of the people trying to kill her.

It worked.

The door shot open with enough force to knock anyone on their ass. The hand on her wrist tore away. She heard painful grunts and the sounds of falling bodies.

She spun and dashed deeper into the kiosk. The narrow structure measured only fifteen feet long.

The refrigeration booths were running, but the ice cream hadn’t been restocked. As the first crazy charged through the doorway, Erin lifted out a large steel bucket of rum and raisin ice cream and hurled it at the man’s head.

In the confined space, he had no way to dodge. He raised his arms, but the heavy steel bucket knocked him back into the people behind him.

The impact only bought Erin a few seconds.

This is it
, she thought.
I can’t stall them any longer.

She had the knife tucked into her belt, but she didn’t pull it out. It couldn’t help her now.

 As the first man dove at her, Erin leaped up and slid across the smooth, stainless steel service counter.

As she slid over the outer edge, she reached up and grabbed the roller shutter’s handle.

Using her body’s momentum, she
slammed
down the shutter from outside the kiosk.

Her shoes hit the deck.

She heard fists pounding on the shutter from inside the kiosk, but her plan wasn’t done. Dashing around the kiosk, she kicked the door shut.

She backed from the kiosk as the passengers trapped inside went berserk.

Did I trap all five of them?

Hyper-alert, Erin hadn’t realized she’d ducked until the weapon struck the kiosk door above her head.

Waaaaang!

It dented the door.

The croquet mallet had nearly crushed her skull against the kiosk. The croquet mallets on the
First Lady of the Sea
were over three feet long with leather-bound handles and brass cappings over their wooden heads.

The man swinging the mallet looked strong enough to crack Erin’s skull with one hit.

She didn’t give him a second chance.

Taking advantage of his miss, she sprinted toward her very last option.

Craigson fired nonstop.

None of the demented passengers had reached them.

‘What the hell is wrong with these people?’ yelled Myers, dropping another passenger with an electric shock from his XREP-M1.

Craigson loved zombie movies, but he’d never seen anything like this.

These people emanated more aggression and unquenchable fury than anything he’d ever seen in a movie.

The women looked every bit as hostile as the men.

Mostly barefoot, the passengers charged with no regard for their own safety, running over broken glass as though it were tissue paper.

The elderly passengers sprinted and jumped with baffling speed and agility.

Craigson scanned for the other Marines.

King and Forest had intercepted a second group of hostile passengers beyond the water park.

Captain Coleman was running toward an ice cream kiosk. Craigson glimpsed the tall, blond officer slide out the kiosk’s serving window and haul down the steel roller shutter in one fluid action, cutting off her attackers.

Craigson couldn’t help but be impressed.

‘Look,’ Myers shouted. ‘Easterbrook!’

Easterbrook stood in the path of a dozen charging passengers. Instead of following the Captain, he seemed to have frozen up.

Craigson and Myers reacted instantly. They dashed toward Easterbrook. They needed to get closer for their rifles to be effective.

Easterbrook fired into the charging pack.

He hadn’t frozen up. He was holding his ground, trying to divert the last group of crazy passengers from Coleman.

Easterbrook fired four more shots into the mob. Two targets dropped instantly.

One passenger returned fire.

It was a bottle.

The bottle flew so fast that Easterbrook barely turned his face away in time.

Smash!