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Death from the Dark. draft

Jack Sinclair un edited test sample...

For a big man Sinclair could be as stealthy as a cat, he slid along the length of the long industrial shed, one of many that occupied this part of the city. His face blackened to break up it’s shine, he wore some dark denim pants and a thick dark grey wool turtle neck jumper, a custom webbing belt wrapped around his waist and torso. His K-bar, Browning and magazines for the hand gun and L1A1 were in the webbing pounches. Sinclair was ready for war.

Sinclair looked through a grated window, he could see inside, some dim lighting illuminated the interior. It cast a seedy, dirty glow several poorly stacked boxes, some cars at various stage of rebuild and miscellaneous junk scattered the inside. He could hear some music playing slightly from inside. Sinclair moved in a crouch, his body staying low and amongst the shadows as best as he could manage, though he was certain they were all inside, he could not risk being seen, not this early in the game.

Dustin Rogers needed to take a leak badly, he had been drinking for most of the after noon, and while he was not completely drunk, the low carb light beers his wife had insisted he switch to did start to add up. Dustin made his way outside into the cold night air, it was a tremendous relief to feel the pressure released as he watched the steam rise as he made a pattern against the corrugated surface of a fence near the large shed he had just been in. As he finished he pulled his pants up and reached for his cigarettes, casually looking around as he lit a smoke he noticed something moving some distance away. Leaving the unlit cigarette in his mouth, he decided to investigate. Reaching behind for his revolver he held it tightly, nervous as he did his best to make out the strange shape, all the while wishing he had a torch or that this part of the compound had better lighting.

Sinclair froze, he could hear some steps behind him, slowly he turned trying not to make to sudden a move so as to raise suspicion. As he rolled his neck to the side, he could see an armed man walking towards him. Sinclair pressed his finger against the battle rifles trigger and slowly turned it in the direction of the man. The approaching figure stopped, seemingly frozen in his position, Sinclair had to act. With a sudden explosion, Sinclair dropped to his belly and fired a burst of semi auto fire into the man. Watching his prey fall backwards, Sinclair pounced from where he was to a pile of empty wooden pallets. He needed some cover for when the man’s friends would appear.

Dustin Rogers laid heavy on his back, his legs bent awkwardly beneath him. His chest felt cold and heavy as he struggled to take in a complete breathe of air. Opening his mouth, he tried his best to cry for help, but only sickening heaving came from his mouth and chest. It dawned on him then that he was dying. Staring at the stars above, Dustin listened to his comrades leave the shed, one of them yelled to him. Then before the eternal darkness swallowed him, he could hear some more loud banging, the same loud noise he heard before he woke up laying heavy, helpless and dying on the bitumen.

Sinclair made it to the pallets in time, he watched as three men rushed out from a side door that he had not seen. His big rifle cracked into action again, sending one of the men into a spiral of death. The other two spread themselves out and dived for cover. Sinclair could see one of them as they crawled to the side of the long shed. The man had either a rifle or shot gun in his hand and was looking to bring it into action as soon as he could find Sinclair. Pointing the L1A1 at his enemy, Sinclair fired another three rounds into the man’s prone center of mass. The violence of the impact smashed his body against the wall, forcing the limp man’s body to lay flat and motionless in the darkness. Sinclair was unsure as to where the third man was, but the crack of a handgun and the impact into the pallets suggested that he knew where Sinclair was. Laying on his belly, Sinclair crawled moving backwards, his eyes searching for any movement of the other man. Giving himself some distance from the pile of the pallets, Sinclair found himself laying in a large muddy puddle, he laid motionless watching for the man. Again some more shots from the hand gun, as bits of wood smashed off the pallets.

Sinclair aimed at the stack of pallets and fired nearly a full clip into the center, he lowered his fire to about knee height. He figured the man to be behind that pile now, and that should none of these shots find flesh, they would be enough to cause him to seek cover. Refreshing his rifles magazines, Sinclair lept up and dashed around the corner of the long shed. He would enter it and clear it, then collect the intel that he needed. He only had a small amount of time left before the police would arrive, or reinforcements would come join the battle.

Sinclair entered the room, moving fast and covering himself as best as he could. It seemed to be empty. His big rifle sweeping for any movement, he heard something, almost a whimper. Slowly he stalked his way towards the noise, it seemed to be coming from a loft above a shabby office. Sinclair climbed up to the small loft area, it was a storage area, but it seemed to serve another purpose. Sinclair was shocked when he found the source of the whimpering. A naked bruised woman, her slender body tied at the wrists and ankles as she laid face down on a soiled mattress. Sinclair put a blanket over her, his hand going to her shoulder softly. As he made contact she shied away frightful of him.

What animals would do this ? Sinclair thought as he removed her gag.
“It’s ok. I will take you to the hospital.” He said softly.
She stared at him, her moth swollen, her lips bloodied and cut, her round pretty face battered and red from tears.

“He is up with the slut!” A voice screamed out.

Sinclair left the girl and fired a burst from his rifle at the source of the scream. It was a fat man wearing a black leather jacket, he held a small semi automatic machine pistol. Sinclair’s fire missed him, as he dived for cover by a half restored late 1960s Falcon. Sinclair fired into the cars chasis, the 7.62mm rounds form his rifle having the energy to tear through the steel. Several explosions around Sinclair caused him to dive for cover, he was now under fire from several other sources. Crawling to the girl, he pressed his hand on her fore head and looked her in the eyes.

“Stay low, I will take you out of here safe, I promise”

The sincerity in his eyes, was the first re assurance she had felt in days, since her horrible ordeal had began. She watched as the stranger slid across the floor and fired his large rifle into the direction of her tormentors. ‘Kill them all’ she begged from within.

Sinclair saw a man peek out from behind some large machine shop tools, a quick burst of fire threw the man back. The shot almost cost Sinclair however, as one of the man’s friends returned fire almost instantly, his rounds taking chunks of the wall near Sinclair. Rolling to another position, Sinclair popped up and fired again into the chasis of the big bodied Falcon, he could see that the fat man was still using it as cover. Quickly though Sinclair dropped low and changed position. The return fire was spoaradic and desperate, none of Sinclair’s foes seemed to want to risk sticking their heads out for too long.

Sinclair noticed the clankering of the steps that he had climbed up, he could see them move as though some one was coming up. Crawling towards the top of the steps, he tilted his rifle over the edge and fired along the length of the steps. He must have hit some one, because after he fired he could hear the distinct clump of some one hitting the cement heavily. Diving back into cover Sinclair glanced over at the girl, she was watching him, her limbs still tied as she laid awkwardly.

Sinclair peeked from behind his cover, he noticed the fat man on his hands and knee’s trying to crawl away from behind the Ford. Sinclair aimed at his large round mass. Firing three shots, the fat man rolled over and squirmed. Sinclair searched for more targets. The shed was quite. Turning to the girl, Sinclair unsheated his knife and freed her from her binds, she covered herself with the blanket.

“Ill go down and make sure its ok, then when I call out you climb down. Is that ok ?” He asked her.

She nodded. Sinclair leapt from the loft area, landing with a thump, he looked over the corpse of the man that tried to climb up the ladder, grabbing his wallet. He searched the other corpses while checking for any other threats. It seemd they all were dead or had fled.

“You can come down now” He yelled.

Moments later still wrapped in the blanket the girl climbed down slowly, she stepped onto the cold cement floor and moved towards Sinclair. Her eyes only looking at the ground ahead, wrapping an arm around her Sinclair ushered her outside and helped her into his car.
Leaving the carnage at speed, Sinclair put the heater on high to make her feel a little more comfortable.

“I will take you to the hospital.” Sinclair said looking over at her. She was now resting her head against the window, staring at the dash tears rolling down her bruised cheeks.

“You killed them all.” She said.

“Yes.”

“You know who they were ?” She asked as she now turned to look at him.

“Dead men.”

She looked him over, analyzing her rescuer. His face was boyish, though his unshaved stubble and sweat smeared face paint gave him a hard look. It was his eyes though that betrayed his surprisingly young face, his eyes seemed so old, he looked at her again.

“I am sorry for what they did to you.”

She nodded, not knowing what to do, or to say. She could tell he was sincere, all she wanted to do was shower and go to sleep. She never wanted to wake up again.

“What’s your name ?” she asked him.

“Jack.”

“My name is Amy.”

“Nice to meet you. We are almost at the hospital. Why did they kidnap you ?” He asked looking over at her.

“My brother borrowed some money, and could not pay them back. So they, took me and …”

“Where is your brother ?” Sinclair asked before she completed the sentence.

She turned looking out the window. She tried to be strong, and hold back the tears.

“They killed him.”

Sinclair pulled up to the emergency department of the hospital. He parked the car. Pulling the cash from the wallets that he had taken, it was close to one thousand dollars, he handed the notes to her as she stepped out of the car. Self conscious of how she was dressed.

“Stay there.” He said as he peeled his jumper of, handing it to her.

“Put this on, and then wrap the blanket around your waist. “

She sat back in the car, Sinclair turning away, as she re arranged her improvised clothing. Sinclair gave her an empty wallet to put the money in.

“Take care Amy.”

“Thank you” she looked up to him, she did not want to leave him. Being around him made her feel safe.

She watched as her tall saviour got back into his car and drove into the night. She made her way to the emergency desk. Jack would be in her prayers every night, she would later vow to herself.