Read Online Among the Living by Timothy Long - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Timothy Long
Tags: Fiction, Action & Adventure, Horror, Zombies, apocalypse, Occult & Supernatural, Living Dead, End of the world, walking dead, brian keene, night of the living dead, the walking dead, seattle, apocalyptic fiction, tim long, world war z, max brooks, apocalyptic book
Ads: Link
describing without an alcohol-fueled sense of reality.
“He’s, wait … he’s fighting. There are three cops trying to snap cuffs on him. He … oh my God! He broke free and hit one of the officers. The guy fell down. I think he got hit hard. The other cops are trying to tackle him but … oh what the ... the guy is biting one of them. Oh my God!”
“Rita, why don’t you go sit down and see if there is anything on TV?” The words are stupid. I know she won’t be able to look away. I wouldn’t. Did she say biting?
“No. He is getting to his feet. The cops have their guns drawn. They’re shouting. The other cop is lying on his back … he’s bleeding a lot. Okay, the first cop is trying to get to the biter.”
There is a bang and then another; they resonate in the tiny speaker.
“Rita! Get down!” I yell into the phone, and for the first time I notice the entire office is staring at me. Erin’s face is painted with concern, she half stands up, but I shoot her a small shake of my head, so she sits back down.
“It’s okay. The guy is down, and the cops are taking care of the bleeding partner. More police are arriving and a couple of ambulances. It looks like they put a few bullets into the attacker … wait, he’s moving again.”
“Where did they shoot him?”
“Chest, I think. He must be on something. He’s on his feet and … oh my God, he’s attacking another cop. He’s on top of him, biting him like the first one. The cop is trying to hit the guy but it … Jesus, what is he on?”
“Rita, do you want me to come get you?” Her phone starts to fuzz and turn to static.
“I think it’s okay now. The other cops are getting out of their cars, and they have more guns.”
There is a series of loud pops that get lost in more static. I yank the phone off my ear like it is red hot and stare at the display. I have a row of full bars, so it isn’t me. More bursts when I put the phone to my ear.
“Rita!”
“They got him, but I think they hit some of the other cops too. I need to rest now. Oh my God.” Then the line dissolves into static and clicks off.
I redial a couple of times, but her phone just rings. I try her cell, but if I know her, the thing is dead and buried in the bottom of her purse. She never thinks to charge it, and just as I expect, my call goes straight to voicemail. I stare around dumbly for a few moments as I try to formulate a plan. If I leave now, I can be at her apartment in twenty minutes, thirty at the most, but what will I see? If there is a shooting, the road and apartment will be blocked for hours. Will I be able to get in?
I go back to my desk and look up the apartment building. I find it on the web and dial the office. After about half a dozen rings, the phone clicks over to voicemail, which informs me of the virtues of living at Casa De Monaco apartments. “Stupid goddamn name,” I swear into the phone.
Erin is standing beside me. She rests a hand on my shoulder, and I look up at her.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. There’s something going on at Rita’s. She said the cops shot someone; he attacked and bit them.”
“He bit them? Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
“Druggie?”
“No idea.”
“Are you going over there?” She leans against the desk with her arms crossed under her breasts. Her shirt is nothing fancy, yet it plunges ever so gently over her curves. For all its demure style, I struggle not to stare.
“I don’t know. I mean I’m sure she’ll be fine, but now I can’t get through on the phones.”
“Why don’t we check Leonard’s scanner, see what’s going on?”
“You are brilliant,” I say and stand up. She doesn’t back away, and we are very close to each other. She is slightly shorter than I, but in heels she would look me in the eye—not that I’m a tall guy by any stretch. She is watching me, eyes fixed on mine, and I stare into those marvelous pools of brown for a few seconds. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to. Her eyes
“He’s, wait … he’s fighting. There are three cops trying to snap cuffs on him. He … oh my God! He broke free and hit one of the officers. The guy fell down. I think he got hit hard. The other cops are trying to tackle him but … oh what the ... the guy is biting one of them. Oh my God!”
“Rita, why don’t you go sit down and see if there is anything on TV?” The words are stupid. I know she won’t be able to look away. I wouldn’t. Did she say biting?
“No. He is getting to his feet. The cops have their guns drawn. They’re shouting. The other cop is lying on his back … he’s bleeding a lot. Okay, the first cop is trying to get to the biter.”
There is a bang and then another; they resonate in the tiny speaker.
“Rita! Get down!” I yell into the phone, and for the first time I notice the entire office is staring at me. Erin’s face is painted with concern, she half stands up, but I shoot her a small shake of my head, so she sits back down.
“It’s okay. The guy is down, and the cops are taking care of the bleeding partner. More police are arriving and a couple of ambulances. It looks like they put a few bullets into the attacker … wait, he’s moving again.”
“Where did they shoot him?”
“Chest, I think. He must be on something. He’s on his feet and … oh my God, he’s attacking another cop. He’s on top of him, biting him like the first one. The cop is trying to hit the guy but it … Jesus, what is he on?”
“Rita, do you want me to come get you?” Her phone starts to fuzz and turn to static.
“I think it’s okay now. The other cops are getting out of their cars, and they have more guns.”
There is a series of loud pops that get lost in more static. I yank the phone off my ear like it is red hot and stare at the display. I have a row of full bars, so it isn’t me. More bursts when I put the phone to my ear.
“Rita!”
“They got him, but I think they hit some of the other cops too. I need to rest now. Oh my God.” Then the line dissolves into static and clicks off.
I redial a couple of times, but her phone just rings. I try her cell, but if I know her, the thing is dead and buried in the bottom of her purse. She never thinks to charge it, and just as I expect, my call goes straight to voicemail. I stare around dumbly for a few moments as I try to formulate a plan. If I leave now, I can be at her apartment in twenty minutes, thirty at the most, but what will I see? If there is a shooting, the road and apartment will be blocked for hours. Will I be able to get in?
I go back to my desk and look up the apartment building. I find it on the web and dial the office. After about half a dozen rings, the phone clicks over to voicemail, which informs me of the virtues of living at Casa De Monaco apartments. “Stupid goddamn name,” I swear into the phone.
Erin is standing beside me. She rests a hand on my shoulder, and I look up at her.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. There’s something going on at Rita’s. She said the cops shot someone; he attacked and bit them.”
“He bit them? Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
“Druggie?”
“No idea.”
“Are you going over there?” She leans against the desk with her arms crossed under her breasts. Her shirt is nothing fancy, yet it plunges ever so gently over her curves. For all its demure style, I struggle not to stare.
“I don’t know. I mean I’m sure she’ll be fine, but now I can’t get through on the phones.”
“Why don’t we check Leonard’s scanner, see what’s going on?”
“You are brilliant,” I say and stand up. She doesn’t back away, and we are very close to each other. She is slightly shorter than I, but in heels she would look me in the eye—not that I’m a tall guy by any stretch. She is watching me, eyes fixed on mine, and I stare into those marvelous pools of brown for a few seconds. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to. Her eyes
Similar Books
