Read Online Hunger Chronicles (Book 1): Life Bites by Tes Hilaire - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tes Hilaire
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next intersection, Eva.
I curl my lip at my conscience, drat her, and rope in my impatience by imagining how awesome it’s going to be to sink my fangs into one of those zombies up ahead. We’re almost to the corner when the first zombie raises its head, cracked lips gaping, decaying nostrils flaring as it tries to scent the air. I can’t help but cringe at the sight of the thing. It no longer resembles anything remotely human, the advance of decay and obvious starvation twisting it beyond monster and far into the realm of nightmares. My stomach twists again, but for a different reason this time. I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can feed off that thing.
I frantically scan the rest of the nearby creatures. Most are in similar condition to this one, but there are a few whose flesh hasn’t started showing visible signs of decay. Thank God.
John’s hand swipes out to the side. We pause. The zombie takes a lurching step in our direction. John gestures to me and cuts his hand down the road. Got it. Run. Finally!
I lurch up, striking out across the corner of the intersection and south on H street. As eager as I was for this moment, I’m finding it difficult to run on legs that feel like cheap dollar-store bendable straws stuffed in a thick shake. I hit an uneven edge of pavement, my ankle twisting. Pavement flies up to meet me and, for a couple strides, I resort to a knuckle-aided run that would have made our furry ancestors proud.
Holy crap I need to feed.
Behind me I can hear the pounding stride of boot falls and the quick retort of John’s rifle as he lays down cover fire on the run. John’s rifle goes silent as he concentrates on running rather than fighting. The fall of zombies doesn’t end though. Convict and Brian have taken over.
Around the corner of the hotel stumbles another zombie. I instinctively raise my gun, before lowering it. This zombie looks half-way human. I glance at the pack half-running, half-staggering at us from behind. Plenty of time. I make a beeline for the zombie, only to watch its head explode as a slug blasts through it.
I glance up at the roof to the bastard who’s just stolen my dinner out from under me. My jaw drops open as Brian gives me a cocky salute and shifts his sight back to the mob racing up behind us.
“Eva! Get your ass in gear.”
John’s sharp command as he bolts by jerks me back into reality. The zombies are closing in and there are too many of them to hope for a light snack. Unless I want to be the snack.
Ignoring my growling stomach and screaming limbs, I run after John. Behind us, more and more zombies fall, their rotting bodies hitting the pavement with heavy thuds as Brian and Convict’s aim holds true. It ticks me off. At the rate they’re going there won’t be a zombie left for me. Okay, maybe I’m being unreasonable. I doubt either of them sees it as denying me my meal, rather laying down cover for their teammates. I can admit this, but they could go to the devil if they expect me to be grateful.
All too soon there are less muffled plops. We’re beginning to outrun the rifle’s ranges. Ahead of me, John spins around and drops into a one-legged kneel. He lifts his gun, takes aim and squeezes off a half-dozen rounds. Behind me more bodies fall.
I hesitate when I reach him, but a quick shake of his head gets his message across. Keep going. John wants to tag team.
I race down another half block then spin and drop. “Go!”
I needn’t have yelled. John is already up and running. Good thing too, these zombies are desperate and determined. Either that or we have some regular athletes in the group. Damn they’re fast.
I wait for them to get a bit closer, then start dropping them with my Glock. It about kills me to pop off the frontrunner when letting the creature get close would coincide with my desire to get one alone and feed from it, but it’s not just me I have to worry about.
John and I work another five blocks like this, then make
I curl my lip at my conscience, drat her, and rope in my impatience by imagining how awesome it’s going to be to sink my fangs into one of those zombies up ahead. We’re almost to the corner when the first zombie raises its head, cracked lips gaping, decaying nostrils flaring as it tries to scent the air. I can’t help but cringe at the sight of the thing. It no longer resembles anything remotely human, the advance of decay and obvious starvation twisting it beyond monster and far into the realm of nightmares. My stomach twists again, but for a different reason this time. I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can feed off that thing.
I frantically scan the rest of the nearby creatures. Most are in similar condition to this one, but there are a few whose flesh hasn’t started showing visible signs of decay. Thank God.
John’s hand swipes out to the side. We pause. The zombie takes a lurching step in our direction. John gestures to me and cuts his hand down the road. Got it. Run. Finally!
I lurch up, striking out across the corner of the intersection and south on H street. As eager as I was for this moment, I’m finding it difficult to run on legs that feel like cheap dollar-store bendable straws stuffed in a thick shake. I hit an uneven edge of pavement, my ankle twisting. Pavement flies up to meet me and, for a couple strides, I resort to a knuckle-aided run that would have made our furry ancestors proud.
Holy crap I need to feed.
Behind me I can hear the pounding stride of boot falls and the quick retort of John’s rifle as he lays down cover fire on the run. John’s rifle goes silent as he concentrates on running rather than fighting. The fall of zombies doesn’t end though. Convict and Brian have taken over.
Around the corner of the hotel stumbles another zombie. I instinctively raise my gun, before lowering it. This zombie looks half-way human. I glance at the pack half-running, half-staggering at us from behind. Plenty of time. I make a beeline for the zombie, only to watch its head explode as a slug blasts through it.
I glance up at the roof to the bastard who’s just stolen my dinner out from under me. My jaw drops open as Brian gives me a cocky salute and shifts his sight back to the mob racing up behind us.
“Eva! Get your ass in gear.”
John’s sharp command as he bolts by jerks me back into reality. The zombies are closing in and there are too many of them to hope for a light snack. Unless I want to be the snack.
Ignoring my growling stomach and screaming limbs, I run after John. Behind us, more and more zombies fall, their rotting bodies hitting the pavement with heavy thuds as Brian and Convict’s aim holds true. It ticks me off. At the rate they’re going there won’t be a zombie left for me. Okay, maybe I’m being unreasonable. I doubt either of them sees it as denying me my meal, rather laying down cover for their teammates. I can admit this, but they could go to the devil if they expect me to be grateful.
All too soon there are less muffled plops. We’re beginning to outrun the rifle’s ranges. Ahead of me, John spins around and drops into a one-legged kneel. He lifts his gun, takes aim and squeezes off a half-dozen rounds. Behind me more bodies fall.
I hesitate when I reach him, but a quick shake of his head gets his message across. Keep going. John wants to tag team.
I race down another half block then spin and drop. “Go!”
I needn’t have yelled. John is already up and running. Good thing too, these zombies are desperate and determined. Either that or we have some regular athletes in the group. Damn they’re fast.
I wait for them to get a bit closer, then start dropping them with my Glock. It about kills me to pop off the frontrunner when letting the creature get close would coincide with my desire to get one alone and feed from it, but it’s not just me I have to worry about.
John and I work another five blocks like this, then make
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