Read Online Catharsis (Book 2): Catalyst by D. Andrew Campbell - Free Book Online Page B

I've had so far.  Unfortunately, the boost is quickly absorbed by my body's attempts to heal my eardrums and cure their incessant ringing after that point blank shotgun blast and the necessary restoring of my already low chemistry levels.  It's tempting to take more than the three to four pints I allow myself (too much more than that, and he'll need medical assistance), as the man is incredibly healthy and toxin-free (he doesn't even smoke judging by the purity of his red blood cells).  But I don't allow myself to do that.  There is no need to gorge myself when I have three more volunteers just a few feet above me.
                Licking the small puncture marks I created in his neck, I allow my saliva to work its magic and seal the holes as I concentrate on what my returning senses tell me.  Being able to hear again is nice, but it brings with it some side effects.  Namely, the vehicle is still running and I am lying almost directly underneath the engine.  The motor's idling hum is nearly a roar to my sensitive ears, so hearing the conversations coming from inside the car are much more challenging than I had anticipated.
                I can pick out a heated conversation (raised voices, but not quite to the level of yelling) occurring up there, but I can't quite make out what they are saying.  I do notice two things, though, that catch my attention.  The first is that the emotions that are seeping through in the words are not as much of the fear variety as I had both hoped and assumed.  They seem angry, cautious and excited.  Not necessarily a good combination for my continued good health.
                The other thing I notice is that the words they're using are all in Spanish.  All of them.  And that is unusual.  Up here in the Midwest, we do have our Hispanic populations, but I have run into very few gangs that are solely comprised of the nationality.  I always assumed that was more of a West Coast or Southwestern thing.  Normally I just run into one or two guys speaking my native tongue per nocturnal excursion.  But an entire car full of them?  That is definitely unusual.  I wonder what's up with it.  I guess I'll just have to ask.
                Wiggling back towards the passenger side of the car so that I can pop up and attempt a surprise, impromptu conversation with my new friends, my movement is interrupted by a sound on the far side of the car:  the back door on the driver's side opening up.  Apparently, they've opted to come out to me.  How kind of them.
                Flicking on my microphone (I've learned that forgetting to re-activate it will just get me reprimanded later.), I quietly update Ren on the situation.  "First target neutralized," I whisper before adding, "And he was delicious."  I know the comment isn’t necessary, but sometimes it's fun just to aggravate the guy.  I have to have some hobbies, right?
                The speaker clicks on and then off in my pocket as his signal that he received what I said (Even though simple electronic clicks can't convey a disapproving tone, I'm still pretty sure I could sense one.  The guy is a bit too uptight sometimes.).  "Plus the back door just opened.  I think one is coming out to join me.  Standby."
                Scraping my belly on the ground, I shimmy my way forward until I am just beneath the open back door of the vehicle.  I figure I can wait for them to step out, and then I'll just grab their feet and yank really hard.  It typically works in the movies, and I don't see why the physics of it would betray me here.  Now it is just a matter of being patient and waiting for the feet to actually hit the pavement.
                But no feet come out.  And no more talking comes from above me.  I can hear movement, though.  And quite a bit of it.  Someone is right above me in the back seat of the SUV, and it sounds like they are lifting something heavy