Apocalyptic Terror

Chapter 5

Inside the armored tour bus, Lawrence sat shirtless, holding a little girl in his arms.

He looked down at the woman kneeling before him with cruel amusement in his eyes.

"Mrs. Williams, I must say I preferred your haughty attitude from before," he sneered. "Look at you now, just like a pet dog."

Lawrence planted his foot on top of the woman's head, feeling a rush of satisfaction.

Before the apocalypse, he had been nothing more than a lowly gang member. The woman beneath his foot, Johnna Williams, was a well-known socialite married to the director of the FBI. Back then, someone like him wouldn't have even registered on her radar.

But now? If he wanted, this high-class lady would lick his toes like a pet dog and let him do whatever he pleased with her.

The apocalypse was terrifying for most, but for Lawrence, it couldn't have been more wonderful.

Johnna remained motionless, swallowing her humiliation as she looked up at Lawrence with pleading eyes.

"Mr. Sinclair, please, spare my daughter. She's just a child. She doesn't understand any of this."

Watching Lawrence's fingers trail across her daughter's face like a demon's touch, Johnna's hands shook as she began unbuttoning her shirt. No matter how much she hated this, she wouldn't dare show it for her daughter's sake.

Lawrence just laughed coldly at Johnna's attempt to offer herself. He grabbed her hair roughly.

"You filthy w***e. You think letting me f*ck you will save your kid? Look at yourself. I could get prettier women begging for it with half a loaf of bread," he spat. "You want me to let your daughter go? Then tell me where Thomas hid those weapons."

He could have his fun anytime.

Right now, he cared more about finding out where Johnna's husband had hidden those weapons before he died.

Johnna trembled but kept her mouth shut tight, even as Lawrence yanked her hair hard enough to draw blood.

She knew he had been after her husband's weapons cache. But if she talked, their fate would be even worse.

When the apocalypse first hit, her husband, Thomas Williams, had escaped with a group of survivors, taking a large supply of guns and ammo from the police station. Unable to leave the imprisoned criminals behind, Thomas had made the mistake of bringing Lawrence and his crew along out of compassion.

No one expected that Lawrence and his men, who seemed grateful at first, would turn on them as the situation worsened.

Thankfully, Thomas had the foresight to hide the weapons beforehand. Otherwise, she and her daughter wouldn't have survived this long.

"Not talking, huh, you b***h? Well, let's see how long you can keep quiet," Lawrence snarled.

"You care about your daughter, right? Watch this: I'm gonna beat her right in front of you. And when I'm done, my boys are going to cut her open," he threatened.

"You must be starving. I wonder if you'll be able to stomach eating your own daughter's flesh."

With a vicious laugh, Lawrence kicked Johnna to the ground and grabbed the little girl.

'Young girl? It just makes it more fun,' he thought to himself.

He couldn't wait to see if this stubborn b***h would still keep quiet after watching her daughter's guts spill out.

"Mommy! Mommy! Please, no!" the girl cried.

"Sharon!" Johnna screamed.

Their anguished cries only excited Lawrence more.

Just as he was panting heavily and undoing his belt, a commotion suddenly erupted outside, followed by urgent knocking on the door.

"Who the f*ck is interrupting me?" Lawrence yelled angrily.

"Mr. Sinclair, those good-for-nothings are causing trouble," came a voice from outside.

Lawrence paused, then flew into a rage. He stormed towards the door.

Though he didn't recognize the voice, he was too angry to think about it. With a gun in his hand, he wasn't worried about those worthless scum outside.

Bang!

He kicked the door open.

But before Lawrence could demand answers from his men, a flash of steel filled his vision.

's**t,' he cursed inwardly.

A long-forgotten fear crept up his spine.

Clang!

There was a dull thud as the blade struck.

Somehow, the knife attack from outside the door had been stopped by the bulletproof vest Lawrence wore under his clothes.

Lawrence cried out in pain. Ignoring his nearly shattered ribcage, he scrambled back inside like a wounded animal.

If he hadn't been so paranoid about dying that he always wore a vest, and if there hadn't been a height difference between the inside and outside of the door, that strike would have killed him instantly.

"Damn it! F*ck! I'll kill you! I'll f*cking kill you!"

Lawrence screamed as he rolled back inside. His hand flew to the gun at his waist.

When he saw who had attacked him, his fury reached new heights. He couldn't believe it was Ethan, that useless prisoner they had captured earlier.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunshots rang out as Lawrence fired wildly at the doorway where Ethan had been standing.

But whether from panic or Ethan's quick reactions, Lawrence's target had already vanished from sight.

Unsure if he had hit the bastard, Lawrence ceased fire.

Ammunition was too precious to waste in the apocalyptic world. Things like bullets had become extremely valuable. Without confirmation of Ethan's death, Lawrence couldn't afford to waste any more rounds.

Time seemed to stand still as silence fell outside the bus.

Still reeling from the near-death experience, Lawrence didn't dare make any rash moves. He could only strain his ears and aim his gun towards the door, watching for any sign of movement.

He glared at Johnna clutching her daughter, but paid them no further attention. All his focus was on finding Ethan.

After 30 seconds of agonizing silence, Lawrence's face darkened.

He had no way to tell if Ethan had fled or was still lurking nearby.

But he needed to see a body, dead or alive.

Lawrence steeled himself. Catching a faint whiff of blood from outside, he decided to risk going out to look.

With his gun and bulletproof vest, he figured the injured Ethan couldn't have gotten far.

"Come out, you worthless piece of s**t!" Lawrence shouted to psych himself up. "You're gonna regret ambushing me, you little rat. I'll skin you alive when I find you!"

Gun at the ready, Lawrence inched forward carefully.

Spotting blood outside the window, he allowed himself a cruel smile. Now he thought he knew where the wounded Ethan was hiding.

Without hesitation, Lawrence burst out of the bus, his gun aimed at the rear corner.

To his shock, the spot was empty. The blood trail seemed to have vanished into thin air.

'Where is he? Where did that bastard go?' Lawrence thought frantically.

He whirled around to search for any sign of Ethan. Before he could react, a sharp whistling sound came from above.

Lawrence looked up to see Ethan leaping down from the roof of the bus like the angel of death, blade aimed straight at his head.