Afterwards (eBook)

Heads or Tails

Brett O'Conor (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
499 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
978-0-00-108761-3 (ISBN)

Infos

Location: The continent once known as Europe.

After a biological weapon was unleashed, the ensuing panic, coupled with the leaders' inability and unwillingness to act, triggered a series of civil wars and international conflicts. Within just half a year, civilization was almost entirely destroyed.
There is no organized governance, no nations, no frontlines, only anarchy, ruthless factions vying for power, and a dwindling, desperate population.

 

In a vast territory known as the Zone, spanning half a country, a group of military experts is attempting to restore order and rebuild a livable world. Their goals are noble, but given the circumstances, perhaps they are nothing more than illusions.
Pushing the limits of scarce resources, a small band of elite soldiers fights its way through war-torn regions that have descended into savagery. Their mission: to prevent another attack that could destroy the last bastion of civilization.

This determined commando unit races against time. Death follows in their footsteps, while ahead lies a faceless, unknown enemy. If they fail, life on Earth will almost certainly end, and humanity will face extinction sooner rather than later.

But the failure is not an option!

 

'Well?' John asked. 'Heads or tails again?'

'My favorite game.' the Major nodded.

Paul glanced out the filthy window before looking at his companions.
'Heads or tails, either way we're screwed... So let's go with tails this time!'
Gunny shrugged defiantly, pulling a smirk that seemed to say: 'Let's get to it.'
The major turned to his deputy. The Madman's face was set with grim determination.
'What are we waiting for? Let's break out!'

Textauszug

1.

 

Jeff Winter crossed the dusty, rundown room with steps that were meant to look casual. No point talking about the lighting. The open space was covered in a dim glow from eight or ten bare bulbs. The room was probably about one hundred twenty feet long, sixty feet across.

To the left of the entrance, on a crappy podium, a guy in his thirties with a dried-up face was messing with the music using even crappier equipment. His gaze was fogged up by some cocktail of dirty drugs and booze. A few people drifted near the center of the room, swaying to the beat.

On the right side, five or six booths were cut off with ragged curtains, giving the folks inside the illusion of privacy. Along the left wall there was something that looked like a bar. As Jeff got closer, he could see it used to be a shelf cabinet from better days, about four feet high, patched together to serve drinks now. The side facing the guests was covered with tattered fabric, once probably dark blue silk. In the top right corner, the cover had already slipped off one of the nails, exposing a disgusting patch of mold underneath. No one gave a shit.

Behind the bar stood a bald, mustached guy built like a grizzly bear. His upper arms were the size of a grown man's thighs, his forearms like goddamn beams. No way you could wrap a single hand around those wrists. His hands looked like oven shovels.

"With hands that size, you can only handle some seriously big guns.” Jeff thought.

Then it crossed his mind, if this golem hadn’t just killed the real bartender, then chances were this was the guy. When Jeff reached the bar, the grizzly stared at him without blinking.

"What do you want?" the guy barked.

"Great.” Jeff thought. "What a charmer."

Jeff handed over the torn piece of cardboard he'd gotten at the door. There was a number two drawn on it with a felt marker. That meant the thin gold chain with the hexagon pendant and the half pair of stone earring had bought him entry to this dump and two drinks.

He checked out the options, thought it over, and asked for gin. The bartender rummaged under the bar for a second, then shoved a visibly dirty glass at him and filled it halfway with something clear. No manners, no bullshit. The guy grabbed a pen, crossed out the number two on the cardboard, and scribbled a one next to it.

"Thanks.” Jeff said.

The golem just snorted and kept digging under the bar.

"Yeah, this dude definitely wasn’t a neurosurgeon at the Cologne Clinic.” Jeff thought, eyeing the guy’s handwriting before stuffing the cardboard into his pocket.

He took a sip of the gin. Whatever the hell it was, it sure as shit wasn’t gin. Some nasty, throat-burning poison. But Jeff had the brains not to complain about the quality or the service. The stuff scorched his throat, but he didn’t care. He’d only had a drink twice since all this started, and right now the burn actually felt good. Cleared his head a little in the heavy, suffocating air.

He moved away and slowly scanned the place. The old warehouse held maybe fifteen or twenty people. Mostly men, a few women, and a separate booth with a group of six guys. Jeff figured they had a good line of sight over the whole room from there.

All six of them wore loose dark summer suits. As much as Jeff could tell in the dim light, the four big ones were carrying serious weapons under their jackets. The two older guys sat back in the shadows, talking and drinking. They had it good, apparently. A real table with a tablecloth, and they got their booze served in bottles.

Jeff watched the people around him, drinking and chatting in this miserable shithole. He couldn’t help thinking, no matter how bad things get, people will always find a way to blow off steam with booze and some kind of distraction.

He glanced around the room again. If he had walked in here thirty years ago, he would’ve thought it was just a rundown retro bar. But today is today, not thirty years ago. Today, this is a hot spot. Hell, it’s the only spot. Stuff that used to be valuable now buys you a shitty drink and a night out.

Then he realized he was overthinking. After all, he was here too, trading part of his old stash for a night to unwind. He reached into his pocket and fingered the other half of the earring. Maybe it would get him a third drink.

Right then, the door opened, and two men and a woman came in, one after the other. At first, it looked like they were together, but then they split up as they moved toward the bar. They ordered drinks from the golem bartender. One of the guys stayed and tried to chat with him, but after a few minutes of getting nowhere, he gave up.

The woman drifted into the middle of the room, nursing her drink and dancing by herself.

Her once-nice light green dress had a torn strap hanging loose. Back in the day, people would’ve laughed at her for wearing something like that. Now she actually looked a bit too fancy for this place. Compared to this joint, anyway.

 

Right then, a sour smell of sweat hit Jeff's nose. The guy who had tried chatting up the bartender was now standing next to him, grinning like an idiot.

"Hey there. How’s the booze? Back in the day, I wouldn’t have poured this crap for pigs."

"Jesus…" Jeff thought. "I get it, no one’s got access to cosmetics anymore, but you could at least wash up."

Since the guy spoke in German, Jeff answered in German too.

"Pretty nasty. If you know something better, let me know. I could go for an absinthe."

The sweaty guy laughed.

"Nope, nothing better. This is the only place, and you drink what you see. About a year ago, there was still a halfway decent bar in Bonn, but it disappeared overnight. Literally. Burned down. I used to be an accountant in Bonn. Now I live in Monschau. I usually come here every two or three months. Where are you from? Haven’t seen you here before."

Jeff figured he’d get rid of the guy faster, along with that godawful stink, if he said a few words and then found an excuse to ditch him.

"I’m from Givet. Small town."

"I know it. Drove through once. What do you guys do? We try to grow plants. Got a couple of chickens too, but we don’t eat them because we need the eggs. I’m sick of all the vegetarian crap, though."

"We live on a friend’s farm. Small colony. Some goats, sheep, pigs, veggies."

"You’re not French, are you? What did you do before?"

"No, I’m British.” Jeff said. He figured that a little lie wouldn’t hurt. "I was in Paris when it all started. I used to teach political science."

"That’s interesting" the sweaty guy perked up.

Jeff couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was so interesting about that. He could tell the guy needed someone to talk to way more than he needed someone to listen.

"I’m Ralph!" the man said, introducing himself.

At that moment, Ralph shifted a bit to extend his hand. Jeff used the chance to bump into the guy’s other hand, the one holding his glass. The drink spilled all over Ralph’s clothes. Ralph cursed and jumped back, and Jeff started apologizing. But out of the corner of his eye, he noticed two of the men from the booth had stood up and were looking their way.

The girl in the green dress kept dancing, moving wider and wider with the new track that just kicked in. The six guys lost interest in Jeff and his new buddy and turned their attention to the girl instead. Jeff took the chance to slip away, hoping Ralph wouldn’t find him again.

Later, he asked for his second drink and leaned against the wall near the side door. Quietly sipping, he watched the crowd, glanced at the girl in the green dress, who was now working on her second drink too, while dancing. Apparently, no one here gave a damn if you danced alone. The world had gotten weird.

He kept his surprise to himself when he saw some folks paying for extra drinks with cash. He spotted Euros, British Pounds, and even US Dollars. He didn’t get it. Far as he knew, money had no value and no use for years now. Especially no purpose. He wondered for a second where the hell they even exchange this stuff. There were no banks left. Then he told himself to cut the pointless thinking. Not his problem.

A few minutes later, one of the older men from the booth stood up and headed his way. The gorilla sitting next to him jumped up right away and followed. Before they slipped out the side door, which Jeff figured led to the bathrooms next to the building, he managed to get a good look at the older guy. Had to be at least sixty. Deep lines carved into his face. His expression screamed arrogance and there was nothing likeable about him. Jeff looked away, into his glass, careful not to attract the bodyguard’s attention. He wasn’t interested in ending his night with a punch or a verbal takedown just for staring at the wrinkled old bastard. But they didn’t give him a second look.

Jeff finished his drink and bought another one with the other half of the earring. The grizzly bartender fumbled with the tiny piece of jewelry for a while, then poured Jeff’s glass a quarter full.

Meanwhile the old man and the gorilla came back, passed by the girl in the green dress, stared at her for a second, then sat back down.

A little later the old guy whispered something to one of the other bodyguards. The guy got up and walked over to the girl, leaning in to whisper in her ear. She smiled wide, said something back, and the guard pointed toward the booth. The girl glanced that way, smiled again after a few seconds, and nodded.

They walked over together. When they reached the booth, the old man reached out his hand but didn’t...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 3.11.2025
• Übersetzer: Alex Karl
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 0-00-108761-4 / 0001087614
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-108761-3 / 9780001087613