Read THE KILLER ANGEL : Book Three "Journey" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 3) for Free Online Page A

bygone tragedy in evidence throughout – skulls, bones, scattered and brown-stained clothing. Eventually, Ben stopped in front of a large, ornate gate that appeared to lead down to a basement door, a sturdy padlock firmly restricting access.
    “Probably a wine cellar,” I said. “Well, we came this far.”
    Brick shouted out a bold “yo ho!” To which the raging insanity of a runner replied not ten feet away, causing all three of us to step back slightly.
    “‘Sounds like a very healthy runner,” I remarked. A moment later we could hear the sudden, pounding rush of feet on the floor above, causing me to question our wisdom in entering this home, as there was no need to do so. Ours was a small mission of pure curiosity, not the best reason to expose oneself to danger.
    This would be close contact, so our pistols were up and ready as we moved instinctively into a room with only one entrance and a window escape. I felt perfectly calm and confident in our ability to handle anything heading our way, as we had faced far worse on many, many occasions. It is comforting indeed to have the confidence of personal success, and to have fullawareness of the fighting mettle of your comrades.
    The creature vaulted into the room without warning, seeming to literally fly at us with superhuman speed and ferocity. The velocity and power of this ugly beast was met with the hot gunfire of two experienced and unfazed opponents, its head exploding in mid jump as it intercepted the flights of our hollow-point bullets.
    We studied the muscular carcass. No doubt this particularly nasty monster had been a continuing menace to any passerby, human or animal, since it had obviously not starved.
    “Crikey, you’re a very naughty boy...very naughty.”
I announced in my best Australian accent.
    Brick smiled, “Ah, I miss him. Steve Irwin would have been great at handling runners.”
    “Oh, I agree,” I replied, “He would have made pets of them all.”
    Humor was another tool of survival in dark times, and nothing to frown about. There was no sadism about it, only a means of dealing with the horrors of reality. The creature upon whom we placed our light comments was a frightening caricature of what was once human, its face contorted into terrifying anger, even in death. Mild joking somehow seemed to let us pass through the nightmare intact and resolute.
    “Now, I guess we’d better take care of our friend in the wine cellar.” I said. We knew that to leave an easily dispatched, active runner in such a place would be dangerous to any subsequent guest, and it would be amerciful act for the runner, although I could no longer bring myself to pity those creatures. There is absolutely nothing left there to mourn...nothing.
    Brick slammed a piece of expensive furniture on the gate padlock, breaking it off after a few tries, as the beast on the other side of the second door raged in unrestrained fury. “God knows what it has been eating,” he said “it seems very upset.”
    “Probably wine,” I answered, “but not the good stuff. The real reason it’s so upset.”
    “Heh heh...yep, I’d be annoyed, too. I hate crappy wine.” Brick retorted, “Here we go.”
    We all stepped closer to the narrow confines of the cellar access, covered our ears and faces as well as we could. I fired a few shots into the door...then there was silence. The large, ornately carved slab was easily opened, as we cautiously looked within, both of us having flipped on our rifle lights.
    There, at our feet, the ugly creature lay slumped over on the ground, the upper half of its head having been removed by my blast. We stepped past without a word and down a flight of stairs into the cellar. There were indeed many wine bottles and various other stores, but we could not linger, for the awful runner odor was overpowering.
    Although the home held no further dangers, Brick and I felt depressed and anxious to depart, in spite of the many unique items of interest that may