Read Online Blood on the Floor: An Undead Adventure by RR Haywood - Free Book Online
Authors: RR Haywood
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ever run before. Another glance behind and that big man is in the lead, easily outstripping the rest of the horde on his strong legs and in that glimpse she sees veins bulging from skin and a twisted snarling face contorted with wild rage.
She keeps going, past the doors to the few remaining screens and spots the service door at the far end marked staff only and the dull gleam of the emergency exit sign above it.
Another glance back and she spots the man is closing the distance. She can’t risk slowing or easing speed but takes the door at full pelt. Ramming into it with her body impacting on the security bar that makes the door yield and she bursts through into a concrete stairwell almost pitch black save for the dull fading emergency lights.
She grabs the handle of the first rail and uses it to pivot and leap the first two steps. A change of speed and the gears in her body grind to start driving her up the first flight of stairs. She uses the handrail to pivot again on the first landing to propel up the second flight and she gets almost to the top when she hears him bursting through the door behind her. Third flight and her legs pump furiously to keep lifting to ascend the flights that go up higher and higher.
Harsh breathing from both of them. The prey ahead and the predator behind. He was in the middle of the horde when they caught the scent of blood in the air. He turned with the others and saw the woman and he burst to life with the others when they started the charge. The shotgun blast removed two in front of him and the sprint across the road into the cinema gave him the room to outstrip the others. He reached the doors first and held the woman in sight as she ran down the red carpet. The stench of her blood driving him wild with urges to bite and rake but again, as he burst to action so the flashes in his mind started. Fast and frantic. The sight of the woman. The fear he could smell in her. The sight of her blood. The running. The chasing. The red carpet. The posters on the wall of the tall wide shouldered actor with the thickly muscles arms. Strobing images that pushed faster and deeper into his cerebral cortex to infiltrate the frontal lobes with the first hint of meaning.
Still the infection within deadens them. Sends them away and shuts down the neural pathways that keep sending more. He is a host. She is a potential host. He will take her. He will tear her flesh and bite into her skin. He will take the host. It will be done. It cannot be denied.
Pain in her thighs from lactic acid burning through the muscles but she goes faster. Gasping for air to ascend and vault the steps two at a time. She wants the stairs to end but never end. Ending means getting to the top where she will be trapped but not ending means she’ll slow down and he’ll catch up. They will catch up. Her mind works as fast as her legs. She has to get out of these jeans and her knickers are no good either. She has to ditch them and run. She has to stop the bleeding and hide. How? When? Where? Just keep going and keep praying.
While running, while thinking frantically she ditches the now useless shotgun and slides the bag from her shoulders. While running and while thinking frantically she rubs the bag into her groin, covering the sweat soaked back of it in her blood. She turns for the next flight and spots the door leading somewhere else but the stairs keep going up. Not a second to lose so she grabs the door handle and throws her bag through before running on and up the flight. The man doesn’t fall for the trick. The smell of her is too powerful. Too strong. He gets pumped with testosterone and adrenalin. He gets pumped full of rage inducing chemicals to overcome the images in his mind. He is wild, a beast and driven only to harm. He will tear her apart limb from limb and drink her blood to satisfy the craving.
She hears him rounding the landing and going past the door. This is it then. She knows the next flight will reach the top
She keeps going, past the doors to the few remaining screens and spots the service door at the far end marked staff only and the dull gleam of the emergency exit sign above it.
Another glance back and she spots the man is closing the distance. She can’t risk slowing or easing speed but takes the door at full pelt. Ramming into it with her body impacting on the security bar that makes the door yield and she bursts through into a concrete stairwell almost pitch black save for the dull fading emergency lights.
She grabs the handle of the first rail and uses it to pivot and leap the first two steps. A change of speed and the gears in her body grind to start driving her up the first flight of stairs. She uses the handrail to pivot again on the first landing to propel up the second flight and she gets almost to the top when she hears him bursting through the door behind her. Third flight and her legs pump furiously to keep lifting to ascend the flights that go up higher and higher.
Harsh breathing from both of them. The prey ahead and the predator behind. He was in the middle of the horde when they caught the scent of blood in the air. He turned with the others and saw the woman and he burst to life with the others when they started the charge. The shotgun blast removed two in front of him and the sprint across the road into the cinema gave him the room to outstrip the others. He reached the doors first and held the woman in sight as she ran down the red carpet. The stench of her blood driving him wild with urges to bite and rake but again, as he burst to action so the flashes in his mind started. Fast and frantic. The sight of the woman. The fear he could smell in her. The sight of her blood. The running. The chasing. The red carpet. The posters on the wall of the tall wide shouldered actor with the thickly muscles arms. Strobing images that pushed faster and deeper into his cerebral cortex to infiltrate the frontal lobes with the first hint of meaning.
Still the infection within deadens them. Sends them away and shuts down the neural pathways that keep sending more. He is a host. She is a potential host. He will take her. He will tear her flesh and bite into her skin. He will take the host. It will be done. It cannot be denied.
Pain in her thighs from lactic acid burning through the muscles but she goes faster. Gasping for air to ascend and vault the steps two at a time. She wants the stairs to end but never end. Ending means getting to the top where she will be trapped but not ending means she’ll slow down and he’ll catch up. They will catch up. Her mind works as fast as her legs. She has to get out of these jeans and her knickers are no good either. She has to ditch them and run. She has to stop the bleeding and hide. How? When? Where? Just keep going and keep praying.
While running, while thinking frantically she ditches the now useless shotgun and slides the bag from her shoulders. While running and while thinking frantically she rubs the bag into her groin, covering the sweat soaked back of it in her blood. She turns for the next flight and spots the door leading somewhere else but the stairs keep going up. Not a second to lose so she grabs the door handle and throws her bag through before running on and up the flight. The man doesn’t fall for the trick. The smell of her is too powerful. Too strong. He gets pumped with testosterone and adrenalin. He gets pumped full of rage inducing chemicals to overcome the images in his mind. He is wild, a beast and driven only to harm. He will tear her apart limb from limb and drink her blood to satisfy the craving.
She hears him rounding the landing and going past the door. This is it then. She knows the next flight will reach the top
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