Dead of Night (Dead of Night 1)

“Nothing short of a tank will get in here. ”

The clerks came up the aisles to assure Bell that the place was locked down. They wore identical expressions that were a mixture of fear and excitement.

“Okay,” Bell said. “You boys go wait down with the customers. Keep everyone calm. Let them have whatever they want from the machines. Go on now. ”

Bell turned back to Dez and JT. “I have to say,” he began slowly, “if it was just you telling me a story like this, Dez, I’d think you were on the sauce. No offense, but I’ve seen you at the bar enough to know that you don’t mind knocking a few back. ”

Dez said nothing.

“But you, JT,” Bell continued, “we’ve known each other for too many years, and I know that you’re a serious man. ”

Being a “serious” person was a mark of distinction with Bell. Everyone knew it, and it was a label he only grudgingly awarded.

JT glanced at Dez. “You told him?”

“All of it,” she agreed.

“Hell of a story,” Bell said. “People turning into … into what? Some kind of ghouls? Eating each other? Marty Goss? Paul Scott?”

“The proof’s on its way here, Thom,” said Dez. “Want to go outside and see what they have to say?”

“Don’t smart off at me, Dez,” said Bell sternly. “This is my store and you brought this here to me. I did what you asked and secured the perimeter, but I have a right to ask questions. ”

Dez flushed. When the pressure was on it took effort for her not to be a smart-ass, and Bell wasn’t the kind to accept it.

“Sorry,” she said meekly.

“I know how crazy this sounds,” said JT.

“Crazy about covers it,” agreed Bell.

Dez said, “Why not take a look outside and you tell us what you think. I’m not joking, Thom. ”

Bell studied her for a few seconds. Before he did, he reached beneath the counter and removed a big . 45 Colt Commander. “I have a permit,” he said, though at the moment Dez wouldn’t have cared if he’d produced a shoulder mounted antitank weapon. Bell quietly opened the small grilled window and peered out. Rain slashed at the door in waves.

He stared for several seconds. “Now that’s disturbing,” he said softly.

“That’s what we’ve been telling you,” said JT tightly.

Bell turned and gave them both a quizzical look, then he unlocked the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” demanded Dez, taking a step toward him.

Bell gave her a sad, disapproving shake of his head as he stepped back, raising both arms, holding the . 45 with two fingers out and away from his body as a dozen men in black BDUs and helmets with ballistic shields came swarming into the store. They carried M16s and shotguns and nine millimeters and they were all yelling.

They took Thom Bell’s gun away from him and pushed him to the floor.

A SWAT officer pointed a shotgun at Dez’s face. “Officer Fox, you are under arrest. Hold your arms out from your side … do it now!”

“What the fuck are you assholes doing! We’re police officers, goddamn it—”

Two officers closed on her, spinning her, taking her weapons, forcing her to the ground. JT bellowed like a bull, but he hit the deck next to her.

Dez knew every dirty trick in the book. She twisted as they forced her down and pulled one leg free and used it to kick one of her attackers in the shin. He crashed to the ground next to her, and suddenly there were six pairs of rough hands on her, slamming her chest-down onto the linoleum floor. Dez screamed and fought and cursed them to hell and back.

“Officer Fox,” growled the SWAT sergeant, “I need you to shut up and stop resisting or I will tase you. ”

“Fuck you, you faggot! I’ll shove that Taser right up your—”