The Last Peak (Book 2): The Darwin Collapse (28 page)

He’d never taken a life.
 

And so he wondered if he could do so now.
 

He curled his finger around the trigger of the old Beretta M1951. The pistol’s worn condition spoke to an active history spent with its previous owner. He had no illusions. He knew the gun had killed before. Likely many times. Black market weapons in Fallujah all came with histories better left unquestioned.

The gun had undoubtedly killed and it would do so again without remorse.
 

The delta slipped down hanging from the wall. Its feet dangling above the ground. The thing came for his daughter. Killing it was all that stood between Noor and a grisly demise.

His finger tightened on the trigger. He squinted his eyes desperately trying to keep the front sight lined up on the target. His mind screamed, waiting for the gun to fire while also dreading it.

This was it. The final instant of commitment. A commitment he feared would banish him from the grace of Allah.

Islam forbade murder.
 

Despite what the cursed radicals of his faith spouted to the uneducated masses. They lied to themselves and worse to others that killing in the name of Allah was righteous.

Ahmed held no such delusion.

To take another’s life was wrong.

But what about a human that perhaps was no longer human? And what if this not-quite-human threatened his life? What if it threatened his daughter’s life?

He glanced back and saw Noor cowering by the door. The naked fear in her eyes hammered him in the gut.

He turned back to the nightmare outside. His left hand cupped his shaking right. Fighting through the quaking, he re-centered his aim and squeezed the trigger.

A cloud puffed off the exterior wall.

He took a breath and squeezed again. The delta at the other end of the sights dropped to the courtyard as the bullet hit him in the hip.

Ahmed fired again, a little higher this time.

The delta fell to the ground and clutched at the leaking hole in its chest. Red bubbles spilled out onto the ground.

Ahmed fired another bullet to end the being’s suffering. It did. He lined up another shot on a woman.

No, not a woman. A beast that threatened his daughter.
 

His eternal soul be damned.

He would never allow these wretches to claim his daughter. May Allah judge him in the light of this terrible end.

The shaking in his hands steadied as he pulled the trigger. A miss. He fired again and hit the delta in the stomach. It dropped to the ground cradling the red spilling from its belly.

With the decision made, the action came quicker.

BANG.

BANG.

Another delta fell. Ahmed emptied the magazine on another and fumbled to replace it with a full one.
 

More deltas came over the wall. The courtyard below littered with their dead and dying bodies.

There were too many. Or they were too few.

Ahmed spent another three bullets taking down another delta, but he saw the futility of it.
 

Glass shattered downstairs. He looked down and saw one battering at the plywood covering the first floor window. Two more beat on the front door. More glass shattered as a few others flowed around the house looking for the easiest way in.

Ahmed’s legs went numb as he heard the sound of wood tearing apart.

“Fall back to the hall bathroom,” Mason shouted from the other bedroom. “Go!”

Ahmed raced to the door and guided Noor into the hall.

A loud groan made Ahmed jump. It was too loud.

And too clear.

“Baba! I left mama’s necklace in the kitchen!”

“Forget it,” Ahmed shouted as he grabbed her hand to pull her to the bathroom at the end of the hall. It was their final defensive position.
 

“I have to get it!” Noor shouted as she wiggled free of his grasp.

Her small, fragile form slipped down the stairway.

“Noor!” Ahmed shouted. “Noor!”

Someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him roughly around.

In a fog, Ahmed reacted without thinking. He raised the Beretta and fired.
 

Mason grabbed his wrist and cranked it over as the gun fired. A bullet punched a hole in the ceiling.
 

Ahmed stared at the man he’d nearly killed.

Mason stared back with cold, hard eyes. The eyes of a killer. The same eyes his wife must’ve seen before bullets tore through her body.
 

Ahmed wondered at the cruelty of it all. To be killed by this man. The same devil that had killed his wife. His precious daughter lost to the savages.
 

What was the point of life when such cruelty prevailed?

“Get everyone into the bathroom!”

Mason shoved Ahmed away and then bounded down the stairs. Roaring fury with a raised pistol in each hand, he looked like the coming of death itself.

Perhaps he was.

They hurried to the bathroom and crowded in. Ahmed closed the door so that only his arm with the Beretta extended stuck out. He cursed himself.

Why had he let his wife’s murderer run after his daughter?
 

Why had he not done it himself?

Confusion, rage, and shame bubbled like acid in his stomach.
 

Mason had saved his daughter from the deranged police officer. Ahmed could not deny that truth. Did perhaps some part of his rational mind understand that only Mason could save her, if anyone could?

Ahmed couldn’t recall consciously engaging in that train of thought. Had it been too fast to remember?

Or was the reason much worse?

Was he too cowardly to leap into the jaws of death to save his own daughter, just as he had been too weak to save his wife?

Was his cowardice to doom the two most important people in his life?

He cursed himself silently. He didn’t deserve Allah’s grace. He deserved an eternity of misery, of punishment, of pain. May Iblis take his soul.

The chattering of the others behind was a distant hum to the volume of the accusations in his heart.

He had tried to be strong. To protect his family from harm. He had failed. Failed in every meaningful way. And so his life was worthless. Worth nothing and so could be spent without regret. If Noor was to die, the decision was easy to follow.
 

He wondered if throwing himself into the arms of the deltas was spiritually no different than suicide.
 

He wondered why he even bothered wondering.

Because it didn’t matter. Not if Noor was taken.

If that happened, nothing mattered forever more.

Gunfire erupted downstairs and the wailing and screaming intensified.
 

Ahmed threw the bathroom door open.

She would not die alone!

He ran down the hall screaming at the top of his lungs, “Ana aasifah! Ana aasifah!”

He slammed into a body flying up the stairs. The impact sent the Beretta skittering down the stairs. It no longer mattered. He welcomed death.

“Go! Go! Go!” Mason shouted in his face.
 

Ahmed blinked hard and realized it wasn’t a delta come to claim him.

Mason carried Noor over one shoulder. He spun Ahmed around and shoved him down the hall. Feet thumped the stairs behind them.

They all piled inside and slammed the door shut just as clenching hands arrived.

Mason lowered Noor to her feet. She clutched Nalasif’s necklace tightly in her hand. Though not worth his daughter’s life, it was as precious as a material possession could be. The golden Farvahar pendant was a symbol of ancient Iran. The flat, stylized rendering of spread wings and tail feathers with a robed man in the center spoke to Zoroastrian roots and the Persian empire that spread its beliefs. Though born in Iran, his wife had always rejected the modern Islam of her homeland and clung to the deeper traditions that ran in her blood.

Her rejection of his faith had always been an uneasy truce between them.

Though the necklace represented an ancient religion he thought blasphemous, it also carried his wife’s blood and ancestry. And for that, it was precious.

Noor burst into tears as Ahmed wrapped her in a suffocating hug. “I’m sorry, Baba. I’m so sorry.”

“Innah bikhayr, qalbi. Innah bikhayr.”

“Back away from the door!” Mason shouted.

Ahmed stared at him in a haze of confusion and wonder. Mason had saved his daughter a second time. Did such a man deserve to die for a sin committed long ago? Could the present cancel out the past?

He didn’t know. He kissed Noor’s forehead and wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks.

They all pressed together toward the opposite end of the bathroom. The little chimp leaned out of Beth’s arms and reached for his daughter. Beth let Noor take him. The chimp touched a trail of wetness on her cheek and then put the finger into his mouth. He snuggled up into Noor’s neck and her tears turned to a smile as she stroked his back.

The bathroom was not large. Not large for the number of people packed inside. Mason’s family. Elio and his mother. Iridia holding Mr. Piddles. Himself and Noor.

Mr. Piddles yowled nervously in Iridia’s arms. She held him close, whispering assurances in his ear. She stepped into the shower and helped Maria in after her. Elio and Theresa pulled tight together. Beth backed up with all of them behind. Ahmed guided Noor to Beth who helped her into the shower.

Mason stood at the front, only a couple of feet from the door as it shuddered and shook from the impacts on the other side. He held two pistols forward waiting for the first brute to break through.

Ahmed had thought nailing a second bedroom door to the inside of the bathroom door had seemed silly. He didn’t think so now.

The pounding outside shook the walls. Dust billowed out of cracks forming around the door frame.

Mason handed him one of the pistols. “Take it. Make every shot count. I’ve got one extra magazine for you.”

Ahmed accepted the weapon and lined it up on the door. He was stupid to have lost the Beretta, but he would give a good account of himself before the darkness claimed him.

He stepped forward to join Mason. Their shoulders touched and Mason glanced at him for an instant.

Wood splintered as the first door started to give way.

“Beth! Don’t let them take the kids!” Mason shouted.

Beth drew her pistol and turned toward those behind her. “I won’t.”

Mason looked at Ahmed with eyes that could’ve cut throats. His jaw hard and unyielding. The smallest nod of his head said it all.

Ahmed returned the acknowledgement.

There was no escape.

They would die.

They both knew it.

But they would not die quietly. And they would not allow these fiends to take their children.

Ahmed said a silent prayer. He didn’t know how Allah could judge the righteousness of their actions in such a situation. He did know one thing.

He wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.

MASON
’s heart thudded in his ears. The pounding in his chest was like a beast trying to break out of a bony cage. The surge of adrenaline threatened to swamp his reason. He took a deep breath and held it, fighting to maintain his reason. To hold on to the steady voice in his head rather than succumb to the chemical madness urging him to survive.

The screaming and yelling outside the bathroom door projected a physical tension. Their madness broke like towering waves on his drowning resolve.

A thunderous crash sounded and the door shook. Another crash and the interior door, the last layer of defense, splintered in the center.

Mason aimed the Glock at the crack. It would soon give way and whatever appeared in its place was going to eat a few hollow points.

Ahmed shouted something but it didn't register. He bumped Mason’s shoulder.

"What?"

“Did you hear that?"

With his eyes still focused on the growing fissure in the door, Mason broadened his awareness. He heard it.

Another thunderous impact and the crack tore open with a fist smashing through it. The fist pulled back and then an eyeball appeared. It glared at them with hungry intent.

BANG. BANG.

Two rounds punctured the eyeball sending the body thudding to the floor. The remaining deltas screamed in rage. Numerous hands grabbed the edges of the splintered hole and yanked it open wider.

BANG. BANG.

BANG. BANG.

Mason fired into the hole knowing he was doing heavy damage, and also knowing it wouldn’t be enough. He counted off rounds and replaced a spent magazine before the last one cleared the chamber.
 

At his shoulder, Ahmed banged away until the slide locked back. Mason grabbed the spent pistol and gave Ahmed his replenished one. He slammed in another magazine and got back in the fight.

The slide locked back on Ahmed’s pistol. Eight rounds later, Mason’s did as well. He dropped the Glock and whipped out his folding knife and expandable baton. The center panel of the door was almost completely ripped out. The only reason they weren't getting through was that a large delta had been halfway through when Mason had put a bullet in his brain. Grimy hands and ragged fingernails ripped through the man’s flesh trying to yank him back and out of the way.

The delta’s body broke loose and disappeared beyond the door. A delta with a matted beard of dirt and blood jumped through the opening reaching for Mason. His outstretched hand came within a few inches before the whistle of the baton shattered the bones in his wrist. He screamed and Mason thrust the baton forward, shoving him back into the chaos of bodies behind. Another leaped through before Mason could raise the baton. The momentum slammed them both into the bathroom wall.

Mason shoved the knife up into its belly and twisted. The attacker crumpled to the tile floor as yet another took its place. Ahmed wrestled with another that hadn’t yet gotten all the way through.

"Beth! Do it now!” His own voice sounded far away, buried beneath the keening whine in his ears.