The Reaper: No Mercy Read Free Page A

boards, and he was off like a shot to the woodline fifty yards away. Suddenly a shot sounded behind him, then another as he felt something tug at the shoulder of the camouflage jacket he wore. Immediately, more rounds began hitting the dirt and trees all around him as he sprinted into their thick midst. Thank God the bastards appeared to be drunk, and thus shitty shots, but he was trapped, for the woods were only so thick before the houses started and he could already hear the sounds of engines roaring in the distance ... and getting closer.
     
    *****

Chapter 2
     
    The Reaper took another bite, savoring the taste of homemade flour tortilla wrapped around refried beans, then frowned as nearby birds stopped chirping in the woodline to his south. A normal wood animal would not have frightened the birds, so this had to be something else. With deft movements, he stuffed the remains of his meal in his mouth, pulled his Navy Colt six-shooter from its holster, and picked up the machete lying on the ground beside him. He considered his rifle for a split second, then decided to leave it for now. The chirping soon started again, but he was not fooled for a second. He knew signs of danger when they were so apparent.
    He was born Jason Scott, though he went by the name Reaper now, and was a big man at almost 6-foot 200 pounds. His somewhat neatly trimmed gray beard surrounded a strong face set with piercing brown eyes. Being a large man did not necessarily mean he moved slow, for after pulling the Colt he quickly sprinted to the woodline to the north and went still with his back to an old oak, resting the flat side of the machete blade against his right shoulder. He waited and listened, as his military training had taught him stealth, allowing him to move as one with nature. He would be neither seen nor heard unless he chose to be, and while he knew the Lord would protect him, the Lord helped best those who helped themselves, so the Reaper was cautious.
    While he watched and listened, the Reaper’s mind drifted back to his very first encounter with these spawns of Satan. A family man, and retired from the United States Marine Corp as a Force Recon sniper with the 1st Marine Division, he had taken a job as a machinist to supplement their family income. Upon arriving home after working third shift on the day the undead rose, he found his entire family slaughtered. Going berserk, he had killed every zombie in sight using any means at hand. They had truly died under his wrath, and he, the Reaper, had survived. It was then that he realized the Lord had a new mission for him.
    Jason had always been deeply religious, even as a child. He knew the Lord had a purpose for everything that happened in life, so the fact he had lived indicated God's plans for him were unfinished. He had prayed to the Almighty, and realizing his mission through divine guidance, he once again donned his old tools of the trade—the tools of a Marine Corps sniper—and set out to eradicate the spawn of Hell from the surrounding Newaygo, Michigan area. After weeks of combat and slaughter, along with more than a few signs from God, he realized his mission had changed in a subtle manner. No longer was his mission to hunt only the undead, but also the evil men living amongst them, who in many ways were much worse. These incarnations of evil preyed on other survivors, and the Lord had spoken loud and clear. The unspeakable acts of murder, rape, and immorality he’d witnessed had shown the Reaper where he could best use his talents.
    In the weeks since the world as he’d known it had ended, the Reaper had done many things. He had gained a new best friend, Jay Scarmon, who was now the interim governor of Michigan, and as far as Jason knew, the leader of the largest group of survivors, both civilian and military, left in the United States. Jason had saved hundreds of people, killed thousands of the undead, and had even participated in a raid on a secret shadow government