Floodlights surrounded the gate, spilling great arcs of light across the high grass. The gate itself was bigger than Seth had expected, a bulwark of metal with a cinder block building to either side. It was a proper gatehouse, built as if the farmers needed to defend themselves against a goddamned army.

Men stood guard outside. Seth counted four outside the gate, holding pistols and flashlights. Another two were stationed atop each of the cinder block buildings. Those held long rifles. Still, that was only eight, and David had promised fifteen. Either he was lying, or there were more within the guardhouse.

Seth watched from the ditch by the gravel road, the ATV nestled against him. He’d turned it off to stop the noise of its engine. Luckily, he’d found how to turn off the headlights as well, but he’d flick them on again soon.

He checked his phone, and the timer’s bright numbers stung his eyes. 16:22. Still plenty of time. Too much time for Seth’s liking. He’d already been waiting here for five minutes, with nothing to do other than listen to his pounding heart.

Seth didn’t like waiting. He watched the mist unfurl over the floodlights, tendrils twisting together into dark shapes. A splash of blood. Beck’s skull bursting apart. Riles snarling, a bullet hole between the eyes. The butcher stalking through the slaughterhouse, his blackened skin sloughing off his bones.

Every second he waited, another vision of brutality flickered across his eyes. Seth told himself that it wasn’t his fault. That he’d done what was necessary to survive. Was that true? He couldn’t be sure anymore.

The timer stared up at him. 14:55. Screw it, Seth was done waiting. The bloodshed wasn’t over, but as long as he kept moving, as long as Seth was the one taking action, he could hold himself together. If there was going to be a bloodbath, it was better to be the perpetrator than the victim.

Seth jerked the ATV out of the ditch and onto the road. Gravel skittered under its tires as he dragged it to the side and swiveled it toward the gate. He hopped on, took a deep breath. He’d only have one shot at this. It would have been better to time it with Alex’s arrival, but that didn’t matter now.

He flicked on the headlights. Bright beams speared across the road and lit the fog. The guards noticed him immediately, and their flashlights converged on him. Muffled shouts drifted through the wind. An errant gunshot cracked out. Stupid, at this distance.

A leather bag hung from the handlebars, a bundle of dynamite within. Seth pulled out its long wick. He didn’t know how fast it would burn. He’d just have to be lucky. His fingers dug through his pocket, found a lighter he’d stolen from the butcher, and Seth lit the wick.

Sparks sprayed through the air, like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. That done, Seth thumbed the throttle and launched himself down the road. The engine growled, loud and choppy at first, then accelerating into a low purr. Gravel spit in his wake.

Halfway to the gate, the guards started firing on him. Bullets whizzed past his ear. One cracked against the ATV’s hard plastic. Another nicked his shoulder. Pain seared down his arm, but Seth was used to pain by now. He ignored it.

He was close enough. It was time. Seth grabbed a loop of cloth he’d tied around the handlebar, and he slipped the loop over the throttle and pulled it tight. The cloth tied the throttle in place, pushing the engine to the max.

The ATV skipped across the gravel, only ten seconds away from the gate. Now for the hard part. With the road as bumpy as it was, Seth knew as soon as he leaped from the ATV, the handlebars would jerk to the side, knocking the vehicle off course. He’d tried to find a way to tie the handlebars in place, but nothing had worked reliably.

But then, Seth had come to a realization. The ATV only used its front wheels to steer, and if those wheels were off the ground…

Seth leaned back and pulled the ATV into a wheelie. With his boosted strength, bringing the nose up was easy, and he nearly flipped the whole thing over. Gunshots blasted past him, a number of them sparking off the ATV’s underside. He clenched his knees together, trying to balance the wheelie.

The gate rushed toward him. No more time to wait, but Seth knew as soon as he jumped off, the ATV would lean forward again. So he pulled the nose up as high as he could, nearly vertical, then he leaped from its back.

Seth slammed against the gravel with a heavy thud. He skidded forward a few feet, arms thrust out to slow himself, ignoring the pain as gravel shredded his palms.

The ATV skipped forward, and with only its back wheels touching the road, the vehicle had no choice but to keep its course. But as it shot toward the gate, the nose inched lower and lower. Seth held his breath as the front wheels slammed down. As soon as they did, the ATV jerked to the side, aiming at the right gatehouse.

God damn it!

The guards realized something was wrong, and they scattered. Flashlights bobbed through the mist. Shouts rang out. The ATV slammed into the gatehouse, and then the whole thing exploded.

The ground shook so hard that Seth thought the earth would swallow him. Shattered cinder blocks sprayed out. One of the guards sailed overhead, reduced to a hunk of meat. He landed beside Seth with a wet splatter.

His ears still ringing, Seth rolled onto his hands and knees and looked up. The right gatehouse was gone. A mountain of rubble marked its grave, the whole thing surrounded in dust. Half of the gate was missing, and the other half was warped into a ball of spaghetti. Lucky, that. Even with the ATV missing the target, it had still cleared the way out.

That just left the remaining gatehouse for Seth to deal with. And the guards outside it. The explosion had killed a few of them, and the survivors were still shell-shocked. But they would recover soon.

Seth slunk into the ditch. Grass brushed against his hoodie as he strode to the side, keeping clear of the floodlights. Shots rang out.

“He’s over there!” one of the riflemen shouted. A beam of light swung out from the roof, where the two surviving snipers were positioned.

Seth would deal with them first. He reached for his belt. The leather bag from the mines had held two dynamite bundles. He’d used one to blow up the gate, but he’d saved the other for himself. Seth had cut the bundle apart into its seven individual sticks, and he’d shoved three of them into his belt. A risky position, given how unstable they were, but easy to access.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Flakes of nitroglycerin stung his fingers as he pulled a stick free, lit its wick, then tossed it for the gatehouse roof. The dynamite spun through the air, its wick trailing sparks. Seth was afraid he’d thrown it too hard, but it exploded right over the roof.

Bloody screams echoed through the mist. The rifleman’s flashlight beam disappeared. Dust and stone shards hovered over the roof, but the building remained intact. This explosion was much smaller than the previous one. Still, Seth saw no signs of the riflemen. If they’d survived, he’d deal with them later.

A burst of gunfire cut through the grass. A bullet punched into Seth’s thigh. His flesh throbbed against the wound, and it felt like a hot ember burned against his bone. He hissed in pain. He wanted to shoot back, but with the floodlights and the fog and the high grass, he couldn’t see where the gunfire was coming from.

Besides, it was time for the big gun. And Seth had a feeling the shotgun wasn’t meant for range.

Seth unslung the shotgun and charged through the grass. Pain burned up his leg with every step, but the thought of tearing through these guards numbed it to a distant spark. He passed the row of floodlights, and then he was upon them.

Five guards stood in a tight arc, pistols and flashlights trained on him. They were all men, middle-aged and with unkempt hair. Grime stuck to their faces, and their bloodshot eyes reflected a dull yellow.

Bullets exploded from their pistols with bright flashes of light. Seth dodged to the side. Even so, another two bullets ripped into his arm. He growled, brought up the shotgun, and pulled the first trigger. A hail of pellets sawed through the center man’s neck, nearly decapitating him. Blood showered his buddies, and they screamed as they scattered away.

Seth smiled. He turned the shotgun to another’s chest and pulled the second trigger. The gun jumped in his hand. The guard’s ribcage shattered inward, crumpling him like a beer can.

Two down, three to go. But the shotgun was empty. Seth needed to reload. That, or switch to the revolver, which he’d prefer to save for later. Seth only had six bullets left in the pistol, but he had a whole box of shotgun shells.

One of the guards raised his gun at Seth’s face, only a few feet away. Seth stepped close, and his arm flicked out fast as a snake’s tongue. His fist closed over the guard’s hand and shoved his aim up and out of the way. The guard tried to resist, but Seth squeezed harder. Bones cracked, and metal flexed under his iron grip.

The guard yelped. He pulled back, eyes wide, like a dog trying to escape its leash. Seth snarled, shoved the guard’s pistol up, and nestled the barrel under his chin. He pulled the trigger.

The muzzle flash lit up the guard’s eye from within as the bullet carved a line through his skull. A gout of blood splashed from the top of his head, and he dropped in a tangled heap.

Seth laughed. He pulled the lever on his shotgun, and the barrel swiveled down, revealing the spent shells. Seth pulled the cartridges free, popped in two new shells from his pocket, and flicked the barrel closed. Two guards left, and Seth had a shell for both of them.

One of the guards spun around, having gained some distance. He leveled his pistol, arm trembling. A shot cracked out.

Seth couldn’t tell if the man missed or not. He felt nothing anymore. Even his earlier gunshot wounds didn’t bother him. He raised his shotgun and pulled the trigger.

The guard’s arm exploded, hacked off at the elbow. The severed arm and its pistol fell to the ground. Blood poured from the stump. The guard stared at it for a moment, dumbfounded. And then he started to scream.

Seth turned to the last guard, who fled toward the gatehouse. He was seconds away from the door. The guard shouted for help. He wouldn’t get it. A storm of pellets flew from Seth’s shotgun and drilled through the man’s spine. He fell to the ground with a soft sigh, outstretched arm inches away from the door.

Screaming, to his right. The guard with the severed arm was still alive, and his shrieks were an ugly sound. Annoying. Seth stalked up to the guard, grabbed him around the neck, and slammed him to the dirt. Then he reared his leg up and stomped on his skull, and he kept stomping until the screams stopped.

Seth leaned over, his breathing heavy. The scent of blood filled the air. The guards lay scattered across the yard, half shredded by the explosion, the rest gunned down by his shotgun. Seth didn’t know which fate he’d prefer. Either way was better than they deserved.

But something was missing. Seth hadn’t checked all their faces, but he was pretty sure none of these guards had been David. And though the gate was blown wide open, Seth didn’t want to leave before burying that fucker.

There was still the gatehouse, the one left standing. Seth padded over to it and put his ear to the door. Silence. Of course, if there were guards within, they’d surely be quiet as they waited for him to wander inside. That was okay, Seth had a surprise for them.

His fingers slipped another stick of dynamite from his belt. Seth lit the wick and waited for it to burn down. Each second felt like an eternity with the dynamite’s explosive power in his palm. As soon as the wick reached the end, Seth slid open the door, tossed the dynamite inside, and slammed the door shut.

The building shuddered, and Seth was rewarded with screams of pain.

Seth swung open the door and charged inside, shotgun raised. Dust filled the air. Shattered furniture was scattered across the floor. An old desk, some chairs, an empty gun rack. A web of cracks stretched from the corner, where the dynamite went off. The cracks radiated in a wide circle, spearing through the floor and splashing up the wall.

A man lay by the door, his clothes shredded to reveal exposed flesh. Another leaned against the back wall, by the desk. Both lay still, dead or close to it. The last guard tottered on his knees, coughing up blood.

Seth aimed his shotgun at the guard’s head and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He’d forgotten to reload. A stupid mistake, but one that didn’t matter here. Seth laughed as he swapped the spent shells for new ones.

The living guard fell flat on his face. He wheezed into the concrete and the dust. Shooting him was a waste of a shell.

A metal ladder was set into the wall, leading to a hatch at the top. Seth climbed to the top and scrambled onto the roof. The building here was mainly intact, but chipped cinder blocks and scratched concrete remained as evidence of the earlier dynamite explosion.

That, and the two riflemen who lay in puddles of blood. One was missing a chunk of his skull and the other had a splinter of concrete sticking from his neck.

David was nowhere to be found.

Seth lowered his shotgun and leaned against the short wall that served as a railing. How many men did he kill tonight? David had claimed fifteen, but Seth only counted ten. Actually, there were twelve, including the snipers on the gatehouse he’d blown up. Perhaps the last three were within, now buried beneath a hill of rubble.

He peeled back a hole in his jeans, checking on the bullet wound in his thigh. A nasty scab covered the puncture hole, and the bleeding had stopped. In fact, his arm felt fine as well, even though he remembered two shots punching through his flesh.

It seemed his FeelBetter ability made him bulletproof. As long as he didn’t get shot anywhere important.

Seth pulled out his phone and checked the timer. 11:17. It was hard to believe that the flurry of violence had only taken a few minutes.

One of the riflemen twitched. Seth shivered at the sudden motion, and he pulled his shotgun up. A yellow slug slithered from the guard’s mouth, this one smaller than the others. It stretched across the concrete and surged into Seth’s leg.

He smiled as another parasite crawled from the other rifleman. And then a whole line of them came up the ladder, all in a neat row of yellow slime, as if they were marching in a parade. Seth stared as they dove into his veins, one after the other, too fast for Seth to count.

They were gone as fast as they’d arrived, leaving only silence.

What the hell? Where was the voice? Where was the offered wish? Had fifteen kills not been enough to level up?

Well, those slugs had been smaller than the others. And these guards had died rather easily. Perhaps they didn’t have enough power to offer Seth a new wish.

Standing atop the gatehouse, with the mists swirling below, Seth felt an emptiness in his stomach. As if he’d been promised a nice meal, then been given only scraps.

Whatever. This was all the more reason to go after David. After all, he still had time to kill.