Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Three

In Hell
Tuesday, August 31, 3:09 A.M.
Time Remaining on the Extinction Clock: 32 hours, 51 minutes E.S.T.

When the door burst open there were five of them.
I used three bullets and killed three of them. Head shots. I would like to think that some force steadied my hand. I don’t know. But I killed the first three through the door.
When the fourth one climbed over the bodies I met him with a knife to the throat. I stabbed him a dozen times. I was screaming. He was screaming, too, trying to back away. I crawled out after him and killed him.
The last of the Berserkers came at me and hit me. I felt my cheekbone break. I felt teeth buckle in their sockets. I don’t know what kept me on my feet. I don’t know what put the power in my arm to slash him across the throat. Over and over again.
I blacked out for a while, and when I could think again I was covered in blood and the Berserker was. ruined.
I staggered across the office to the desk and then shambled around it.
Cyrus Jakoby lay on the floor. He was bleeding from several gunshot wounds. All were serious. None were fatal. That was a shame. For him.
He looked up at me, at my face, into my eyes, and he saw something that tore a scream from him. Maybe it was in that moment that he recognized the implacable, heartless, relentless monster that his victims had always seen in him. Maybe he realized that he was tethered to life by only one slender thread.
He knew the cancel code.
He knew that I would not, could not, kill him as long as he had it.
He thought that he could bargain with that.
He should have looked deeper into my eyes.
I stood over him, covered in blood-some of which was Grace’s-and I showed him my knife.
I never had to ask him for the code.
In the end, he gave it willingly.
But not easily.