Read Online Apocalypsis 01 - Kahayatle by Elle Casey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elle Casey
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way, Peter would have one day of recuperation and then we could strike out for the Everglades after. Last night’s fiasco had pretty much made the decision for us.
“The cop a couple doors down didn’t have a holster, but he did have a nice mountain bike. You need to go get it,” said Peter, tiredly.
“I will. Soon. Just let me finish this.”
“No,” said Peter more forcefully. “Go now. The raiders are going to be coming out soon. They were out late last night, but they’re not going to sleep forever.”
He was right. “Fine.” I looked at the dog. “Buster, watch Peter.”
Buster responded by doing his doggy dance and wiggling so hard I was afraid he was going to pee.
“God, just relax , would you? I’m just talking to you, ding-dong.”
Buster made some high pitched whining sounds and then let out a sharp, quick bark.
Peter smiled. “He’s telling you to go, that he’ll take care of me.”
“You talk poodle now. Awesome,” I said as I stood. “I think that .357 to the forehead might have caused just a teensy bit of brain damage.”
“Just go get the dumb bike. And don’t get killed on your way.”
“Here,” I said, laying his gun on his chest. “Try not to knock yourself out again. I don’t think your puny skull could take another hit like that.”
“I’ll hold it lower next time.”
“No, stiffen your arms next time, spaz. We don’t need you adding a cracked rib to your list of injuries.”
I got up to leave the room and Buster went to follow me.
“No, dummy, stay with him. He needs you more than I do.”
Buster looked at Peter and then at me for a second.
I gestured at Peter again. “Stay!”
Buster went back to Peter and laid down next to him.
I nodded in appreciation of the training Buster had apparently not forgotten, and left the room, tucking my own gun in the back of my pants as I walked to the front door.
I waited a few seconds to take two deep breaths and let them out, slowly calming myself before going outside. Everything seemed like it had higher stakes now. People were breaking into my house with guns and threatening to kill me. Peter had put a huge hole in one of them. And one unfortunate soul was currently getting ready to rot on the side of my house because he couldn’t take no for an answer or read my note on the front door that said to stay the hell away. This bike was the last thing I was going out to get before I left here for good.
I opened the door and nearly gagged at what I saw there. I took two steps back, forgetting that I shouldn’t just be standing there with the door wide open. But I was too stunned to reason properly and do the smart thing.
Sitting on my front porch was a gray skinned, brown-haired thing , its eyes open and staring at my knees.
Someone had chopped off the head of the kid Peter had killed and left it for me to find at the front door - a grisly warning that took me less than a second to fully appreciate. It was a promise of retribution staring out at me from the dead eyes of the boy who’d died too young, all because he was hungry and desperate enough to try and steal from me.
I took deep gulping breaths and fought my instincts to slam the door, instead carefully closing it and slowly moving the deadbolt back into place. I ran back to the living room and dropped down on my knees next to Peter, jiggling his shoulder roughly. Buster just watched me curiously.
“Peter! Get up! We have to leave now!”
“What’d you say?” he said, confusion all over his face, his speech sounding slurred. “What time is it? How long have I been sleeping?”
“They friggin cut someone’s head off and put it on the doorstep!” I nearly screeched, trying to keep my emotions under control, but losing it anyway. “It’s the kid you shot! They cut his head off!”
Peter sat up, now suddenly very wide awake,
“The cop a couple doors down didn’t have a holster, but he did have a nice mountain bike. You need to go get it,” said Peter, tiredly.
“I will. Soon. Just let me finish this.”
“No,” said Peter more forcefully. “Go now. The raiders are going to be coming out soon. They were out late last night, but they’re not going to sleep forever.”
He was right. “Fine.” I looked at the dog. “Buster, watch Peter.”
Buster responded by doing his doggy dance and wiggling so hard I was afraid he was going to pee.
“God, just relax , would you? I’m just talking to you, ding-dong.”
Buster made some high pitched whining sounds and then let out a sharp, quick bark.
Peter smiled. “He’s telling you to go, that he’ll take care of me.”
“You talk poodle now. Awesome,” I said as I stood. “I think that .357 to the forehead might have caused just a teensy bit of brain damage.”
“Just go get the dumb bike. And don’t get killed on your way.”
“Here,” I said, laying his gun on his chest. “Try not to knock yourself out again. I don’t think your puny skull could take another hit like that.”
“I’ll hold it lower next time.”
“No, stiffen your arms next time, spaz. We don’t need you adding a cracked rib to your list of injuries.”
I got up to leave the room and Buster went to follow me.
“No, dummy, stay with him. He needs you more than I do.”
Buster looked at Peter and then at me for a second.
I gestured at Peter again. “Stay!”
Buster went back to Peter and laid down next to him.
I nodded in appreciation of the training Buster had apparently not forgotten, and left the room, tucking my own gun in the back of my pants as I walked to the front door.
I waited a few seconds to take two deep breaths and let them out, slowly calming myself before going outside. Everything seemed like it had higher stakes now. People were breaking into my house with guns and threatening to kill me. Peter had put a huge hole in one of them. And one unfortunate soul was currently getting ready to rot on the side of my house because he couldn’t take no for an answer or read my note on the front door that said to stay the hell away. This bike was the last thing I was going out to get before I left here for good.
I opened the door and nearly gagged at what I saw there. I took two steps back, forgetting that I shouldn’t just be standing there with the door wide open. But I was too stunned to reason properly and do the smart thing.
Sitting on my front porch was a gray skinned, brown-haired thing , its eyes open and staring at my knees.
Someone had chopped off the head of the kid Peter had killed and left it for me to find at the front door - a grisly warning that took me less than a second to fully appreciate. It was a promise of retribution staring out at me from the dead eyes of the boy who’d died too young, all because he was hungry and desperate enough to try and steal from me.
I took deep gulping breaths and fought my instincts to slam the door, instead carefully closing it and slowly moving the deadbolt back into place. I ran back to the living room and dropped down on my knees next to Peter, jiggling his shoulder roughly. Buster just watched me curiously.
“Peter! Get up! We have to leave now!”
“What’d you say?” he said, confusion all over his face, his speech sounding slurred. “What time is it? How long have I been sleeping?”
“They friggin cut someone’s head off and put it on the doorstep!” I nearly screeched, trying to keep my emotions under control, but losing it anyway. “It’s the kid you shot! They cut his head off!”
Peter sat up, now suddenly very wide awake,
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