Read Online Hunger Chronicles (Book 1): Life Bites by Tes Hilaire - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tes Hilaire
Ads: Link
a sprint down a cross street, turn right, then left, then left again. The number of followers is dwindling rapidly. Partly because we’ve killed a good number, partly because the lazier of their companions are stopping to scavenge from the dead, and partly because we’ve just plain outrun them. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’m disappointed when the erratic path we lay seems to work. Ten blocks from the hotel and there isn’t a single zombie on our tail.
I stumble to a stop, laying my elbows on my thighs as I clamp my hands around my pounding head.
“No stopping.” John grabs my upper arm and drags me down another one-way side-road.
I groan, but drag my feet after him. I’ve stopped paying attention to street signs, but I can tell John is trying to work us back north toward the highway. I can only hope I find a lone zombie between here and there. I can’t go back to the base without feeding.
As if in answer to a prayer, a pair of zombies lunge out from the shadows between two buildings to my left. I spin, my Glock rising in an arc as I aim for the nearer of the two. The other, well, I have plans for that one. Only it’s not meant to be. My gun clicks. No ammo.
Brilliant, Eva. How could you have missed that?
I step back to give myself more room to fight but my foot catches in a pothole and I go down, wind-milling. My head cracks on the pavement, stars flashing before my eyes. Before I know it, biting pain sinks into one of my legs, followed by a violent jerk of my gun arm and a searing snap of agony as the bone breaks.
I scream, grabbing for my knife with my good hand. The blade whistles out of its sheath in an upward arc as I stab for the creature that’s attacking the flesh of my thigh with zealous need. The blade sinks home into the base of its skull just as four rounds are popped off nearby. The zombies fall, both the one attacking my leg and the one trying to drag me by my dangling arm away from its companion. And I lay injured and starving. So not a good combination.
I whimper, yanking the knife out of the creature. I barely get it sheathed before hands are grabbing me under my armpits, yanking me out from under the heavy weight of the dead zombie, and spinning me around.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” John demands, his face flushed and neck corded with anger.
I pant through the pain. Not sure what hurts more, the injuries that are not going to heal anytime soon, or the squelching of my humanity by the instinct that is screaming at me to lunge forward and sink my teeth into John’s neck.
I clamp my teeth together, jerking my gaze away from his pulse and meet his gaze. I need to look into his eyes, see the human in him. “I need to feed.”
His gaze cuts to the dead zombies on the ground. There is no life in either of their eyes, John’s double taps having eradicated it.
“Fresh blood. Need them to be alive.” Or at least alive when the blood is drawn. I’d managed to find a hospital filled with pints of blood once. I’d lived off them for over a week before the supply I’d confiscated ran out. But something about the suction action of drawing blood from a collapsed artery destroys whatever it is I need.
Hemolysis. That’s the word. Both my dad and my biology teacher would be bawling right now.
John yanks his hands back. “Then fucking grab a snack, because I can’t keep saving your ass and keep mine out of the fire, too.”
Wow. I don’t know why that hurts, but it does, even if it does make sense. It’s a dog eat dog world out here, each man—or woman—has got to take care of themselves first.
Even as I think this, John belies this belief by yanking a strip off the bottom of his T-shirt and kneeling down to wrap it around my gushing thigh.
“I was trying to but I tripped.”
“Then stop tripping.” He yanks the knot tight, causing me to wince. He stands back up, eyeing my dangling arm. With a sigh, he rips another couple strips off and works them into a
I stumble to a stop, laying my elbows on my thighs as I clamp my hands around my pounding head.
“No stopping.” John grabs my upper arm and drags me down another one-way side-road.
I groan, but drag my feet after him. I’ve stopped paying attention to street signs, but I can tell John is trying to work us back north toward the highway. I can only hope I find a lone zombie between here and there. I can’t go back to the base without feeding.
As if in answer to a prayer, a pair of zombies lunge out from the shadows between two buildings to my left. I spin, my Glock rising in an arc as I aim for the nearer of the two. The other, well, I have plans for that one. Only it’s not meant to be. My gun clicks. No ammo.
Brilliant, Eva. How could you have missed that?
I step back to give myself more room to fight but my foot catches in a pothole and I go down, wind-milling. My head cracks on the pavement, stars flashing before my eyes. Before I know it, biting pain sinks into one of my legs, followed by a violent jerk of my gun arm and a searing snap of agony as the bone breaks.
I scream, grabbing for my knife with my good hand. The blade whistles out of its sheath in an upward arc as I stab for the creature that’s attacking the flesh of my thigh with zealous need. The blade sinks home into the base of its skull just as four rounds are popped off nearby. The zombies fall, both the one attacking my leg and the one trying to drag me by my dangling arm away from its companion. And I lay injured and starving. So not a good combination.
I whimper, yanking the knife out of the creature. I barely get it sheathed before hands are grabbing me under my armpits, yanking me out from under the heavy weight of the dead zombie, and spinning me around.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” John demands, his face flushed and neck corded with anger.
I pant through the pain. Not sure what hurts more, the injuries that are not going to heal anytime soon, or the squelching of my humanity by the instinct that is screaming at me to lunge forward and sink my teeth into John’s neck.
I clamp my teeth together, jerking my gaze away from his pulse and meet his gaze. I need to look into his eyes, see the human in him. “I need to feed.”
His gaze cuts to the dead zombies on the ground. There is no life in either of their eyes, John’s double taps having eradicated it.
“Fresh blood. Need them to be alive.” Or at least alive when the blood is drawn. I’d managed to find a hospital filled with pints of blood once. I’d lived off them for over a week before the supply I’d confiscated ran out. But something about the suction action of drawing blood from a collapsed artery destroys whatever it is I need.
Hemolysis. That’s the word. Both my dad and my biology teacher would be bawling right now.
John yanks his hands back. “Then fucking grab a snack, because I can’t keep saving your ass and keep mine out of the fire, too.”
Wow. I don’t know why that hurts, but it does, even if it does make sense. It’s a dog eat dog world out here, each man—or woman—has got to take care of themselves first.
Even as I think this, John belies this belief by yanking a strip off the bottom of his T-shirt and kneeling down to wrap it around my gushing thigh.
“I was trying to but I tripped.”
“Then stop tripping.” He yanks the knot tight, causing me to wince. He stands back up, eyeing my dangling arm. With a sigh, he rips another couple strips off and works them into a
Similar Books
