Page 151 of God of Monsters

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” At first, the shocked rage in Lilith’s voice matches my own thoughts, until it occurs to me what he intends.

“Pissing on you,” he answers nonchalantly.

Warm fluid hits my skin, and I turn my face away, as he aims his stream over the two of us.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” The disgust in her tone isn’t unwarranted, as the potent scent of ammonia fills my nose, but Atticus is careful to keep the fluids directed on our clothes.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me for it. Deters the Ragers about as much as it does you.”

Staring down at her damp shirt, Lilith grimaces and shoots me an uncertain glance. “It keeps them away?”

“Quite effectively,” he answers. “You’re welcome.”

“I hate you. I really, truly hate you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Atticus winks as he yanks up his jeans, buttoning them shut again. “And neither do you, sweetheart.”

Shots ring out. Screams bleed from the sky, and I flip over to find the Ragers attacking unannounced. Hundreds of them pouring in over the men like insects.

Atticus shouts, and the women around me leap to attack, all of them armed with guns. Within seconds, the camp breaks into chaos, the infected swarming over the unsuspecting men in a wave of gore and violence.

The voices die down to white noise, and everything around me slows, as if I’ve fallen beneath the surface into ice cold water.

I’ve heard the stories of war.

I’ve seen the damage written in my father’s weathered skin.

But I’ve never seen a man eaten alive. I’ve never felt the uncertainty of such violence, the unbridled and riotous bedlam of war.

At the tug of my arm, I jump to my feet and get dragged behind the massive Alpha, who runs toward the feeding Ragers without a single hint of fear, as if pandemonium is home for him.

“Stay near me!” Atticus’s voice thunders over the growls and screams, as we weave our way through the crowd.

Clawed hands catch on my shirt and in my hair, but fail to tear me away from the beast of a man who leads me through. I search for Titus, and find him nowhere, many of the familiar faces swallowed by the commotion. Lilith is nowhere to be found, either.

We make our way toward the entrance, where soldiers pile in through the door, while those on the other side fight to close it against the Ragers. Yanking me in front of him, Atticus pushes his way through and swings back the door, allowing the infected passage inside. The men break into fighting, shooting at the horde at our backs. One of the soldiers trains his gun on Atticus, but before he can fire the shot, the Alpha knocks it out of his hand, and not a second later, he drives his fist into the soldier’s masked face.

We race through the chapel toward the door that leads to the lower labs.

“He’ll be hiding below, no doubt. Cowards always do.” Atticus holds the door open for me, and the moment I duck into the dark stairwell, he jumps ahead to take the lead.

A masked soldier scurries up the staircase, holding up his gun and his hand as he passes, as if not wanting to engage the Alpha. He slips by, slow and careful, before scrambling toward the door.

Gunshots from below echo up the staircase, and two more soldiers head toward us. One shoots, and a hot streak across my face tugs a gasp from me. I lift my hand to touch the blistered skin, where the bullet must’ve only grazed me, and exhale a shaky breath.

On a growl, Atticus charges forward and lifts the man into the air. The gun falls with a clank, and the Alpha throws the soldier’s limp body down the stairwell, taking out two more soldiers below. One powerful kick to the second Legion officer sends him flying back.

Taking my hand again, Atticus continues the descent toward the labs. The path ends at a large, steel door, one with the biohazard signs I remember from before. Except, I have to question if we went the same route as the last time, as a panel of buttons and a pad with the shape of a hand sits off to the side of it--a security measure I don’t recall from our last visit.

Laughter from behind draws my attention toward the barrel of a gun aimed at us, emerging from the shadows beneath the stairwell.

“Looks like you don’t have the fucking credentials,” the voice says, as the Legion soldier steps into the light, face concealed by the mask he wears.

Without hesitation, Atticus barrels toward him, and the shot of his gun sends a bullet pinging against the steel door, ricocheting somewhere into the darkness. Another shot reverberates around us, the bullet hitting the stone wall across from me. As with the other soldier, the gun in his hands falls to the floor, and Atticus holds his arm out in front of him.

One quick snap, and the Legion soldier lets out a blood curdling scream that I shield with the palm of my hands. His body crumples to the floor, where he lies cradling a bleeding stump of bone where his hand has been torn from his arm.

As Atticus passes, he waves the severed limb in front of me and smiles. “Carte blanche, baby.” Nausea gurgles in my stomach, and I clap a hand over my mouth to keep the vomit climbing my throat from splashing out onto the floor. He rests the hand against the panel, and at the green light, the door clicks, opening up to a long corridor that’s flanked by the glass-encased labs at either side.