Read Online After: Dying Light by Scott Nicholson - Free Book Online

head and banged it against the asphalt—once, twice, and again—each blow like the thump of a melon rolling off a cart. Fluid seeped beneath her crumbling skull.
    And still she held on.
    A volley of gunfire broke out, but it was away from the parking lot. Somewhere, someone screamed—a very human scream that was simultaneously comforting and unnerving.
    DeVontay twisted the Zaphead from side to side, and then sat back so he could drive a kick against the offending hand. Bone broke under his blows, and he worked at the fingers with his own, bending them backwards one by one until they snapped. When only two remained, he was finally able to wriggle free and struggle to his feet. He’d wasted precious seconds he couldn’t spare, and now he was disoriented.
    He used the outline of the school building and the row of school buses to navigate himself back on track, and he dashed down a line of cars, keeping low to use them for concealment. He emerged from the end of the row, open in the strange haze of starlight, and saw them.
    Stephen was huddled against a corpse, his arms protectively embracing the baby.
    “Stephen!” DeVontay called.
    The bill of the baseball cap lifted and the lower part of Stephen’s face revealed itself. “DeVontay?”
    “Hell, yeah, Little Man. It’s me.”
    DeVontay expected the boy to push away the baby and run toward him, but instead he only hugged her tighter. He closed the thirty feet between them but was chilled when the baby’s intense, laser-like eyes turned on him.
    He glanced around to make sure no other Zapheads were in attacking range. Where the hell is Franklin?
    “Come on, time to go,” DeVontay said.
    “He’s my carrier,” the baby said, in a distinct and brittle voice.
    DeVontay could see both their faces in the glow of her eyes. Stephen’s was smudged with dirt and charcoal, pale, with dark wedges beneath his eyes, while the baby was round-faced, plump, and cherubic. Practically angelic.
    How could something so innocent-looking unleash so much terror?
    As if DeVontay had to ask. Somewhere inside the mutants was a human core, and they adapted by mimicking the humans they interacted with and observed. What else could they learn but hate and fear?
    “Come on, Little Man,” DeVontay said, reaching a hand for Stephen. “Rachel is waiting.”
    A bullet shredded the air over his head and he ducked low, close enough to study the baby’s expression. It was a girl, Asian and beautiful, half swaddled in a blanket. He looked at Stephen’s face and saw they wore the same unreadable expression.
    “We have to get away from the gunfire.” DeVontay forced himself to remain calm.
    “He stays with me.” The baby spoke with an imperiousness that belied its size.
    “You’re coming, too.”
    DeVontay reached for the baby and Stephen rolled away, the bundle clutched to his chest. “No! Leave Kokona alone!”
    His cries were loud enough to draw the attention of both Zapheads and Shipley’s unit, but the cars must have shielded their view. DeVontay pulled at Stephen, trying to extract the mutant from his arms, but Stephen leaped to his feet with startling energy. As the boy turned to run, he slammed into Franklin.
    “Rachel’s looking for you,” Franklin said.
    That seemed to get through to him. He blinked, as if finally recognizing DeVontay and Franklin. “She’s…she’s here?”
    “We can take you to her,” DeVontay said. “But we have to do it now .”
    As if to punctuate his urgency, a swarm of bullets strafed the parking lot, penetrating flesh and metal. A cry sounded in the dark, followed by Shipley ordering his men to fall back.
    The boy was ashen-faced, looking down at the baby in his arms. “Kokona?” he whispered.
    “Don’t go,” she said, her eyes ramping up the intensity, like a rocket ship powering for liftoff.
    DeVontay seized the baby and yanked her from Stephen’s arms, ignoring the boy’s pleas. He sprinted toward the row of buses, intending to reach the