Read Online Impersonator (Forager Impersonator - A Post Apocalyptic Trilogy Book 1) by Peter R. Stone - Free Book Online
Authors: Peter R. Stone
Ads: Link
bounce of his skull helmet after which I would be at his mercy.
Laying the bar quietly on the floor, I pulled the long kitchen knife out of my belt, a sick feeling invading my stomach. As I had never hurt anyone before, what I was about to do went against every fibre of my being. Even though I was only going to give him a taste of what he planned to give my companions.
I considered knifing him in the back, but flash sonar revealed the futility of that action. Not only were there no gaps in the armour, but the bones themselves had been hardened with resin. Which meant they were probably impervious to knife thrusts. A feeling of hopelessness threatened to overwhelm me. I was almost out of time. Desperate to find a chink in his armour, I took a step back and gave him another once over with flash sonar.
To my surprise, I found two weaknesses. There were no bones covering his neck or the back of his knees. Unfortunately, he was too tall to stab in the neck, and at any rate, I refused to kill him. That left only one other choice – I had to go for his knees.
Afraid I would hear cries of terror from my companions at any moment, I gripped the long knife firmly and slashed it as hard as I could across the back of his right knee. The blade cut deep, severing tendons and muscles. The Skel bellowed in agony and reared back.
I sprang away from him immediately, but was still too slow. With a speed that belied belief, he whirled around, swinging his baseball bat with murderous intent. Luckily for me, his knee gave wave as he turned, eliciting an even louder cry of pain as he collapsed to the floor with a crunch of bones.
His bat still connected with my stomach, sending me careening backwards to slam awkwardly against the side of a dirt-covered armchair. The wooden armrest dug into my back, sending waves of intense pain coursing through me. My knife also went flying from my grasp. All the same, I appreciated the hours spent doing sit-ups and burpees, otherwise that blow to my stomach would have incapacitated me.
“You stinking varmint, I’m gonna gut you and string your entrails up for the crows!” the Skel hissed. Grimacing in pain, he clawed his way onto his knees and lifted the baseball bat.
I tried to ignore the pain lancing unmercifully through my torso and rolled quickly aside. The bat smashed into the chair, splintering the wooden armrest. I glanced at my fearful opponent and panic ripped through me – it would only take one solid hit and it would be all over.
I rolled under another swing and regained my feet. Picking up chunks of plaster and discarded DVD cases, I flung them at the Skel in quick succession. They ricocheted off his helmet, but he kept coming.
Remembering his weakness was his right side, I feinted to my left. As I expected, he lunged for me but then collapsed to his hands and knees when his injured leg gave out. Seeing an opportunity to escape, I jumped to the right and darted past him, making for the front door.
Ignoring his injury, the Skel twisted around and swung his bat with all his strength. It clipped my left thigh with enough force that I was sent sprawling against the wall beside the door, my shoulder smashing through the powder-like plaster sheeting. With freedom only a few steps away, I pushed myself off the wall and limped through the open doorway as fast as I could, grabbing the Skel’s surprisingly heavy metal and wood crossbow on the way out.
Chapter Eight
Now that I was in the front yard, I saw our truck parked in the driveway to my right. Con, Jack and Matt must have heard the Skel bellowing when I wounded him, for they were on their feet, looking in my direction, clearly alarmed.
“Skel!” I screamed as I limped/ran.
“In the truck, quick!” Con shouted. He didn’t need to say it twice. The three of them were off like a shot, faces white with terror.
My heart missed a beat when I realised I couldn’t see Ryan on the far side of the truck where he had been sitting
Laying the bar quietly on the floor, I pulled the long kitchen knife out of my belt, a sick feeling invading my stomach. As I had never hurt anyone before, what I was about to do went against every fibre of my being. Even though I was only going to give him a taste of what he planned to give my companions.
I considered knifing him in the back, but flash sonar revealed the futility of that action. Not only were there no gaps in the armour, but the bones themselves had been hardened with resin. Which meant they were probably impervious to knife thrusts. A feeling of hopelessness threatened to overwhelm me. I was almost out of time. Desperate to find a chink in his armour, I took a step back and gave him another once over with flash sonar.
To my surprise, I found two weaknesses. There were no bones covering his neck or the back of his knees. Unfortunately, he was too tall to stab in the neck, and at any rate, I refused to kill him. That left only one other choice – I had to go for his knees.
Afraid I would hear cries of terror from my companions at any moment, I gripped the long knife firmly and slashed it as hard as I could across the back of his right knee. The blade cut deep, severing tendons and muscles. The Skel bellowed in agony and reared back.
I sprang away from him immediately, but was still too slow. With a speed that belied belief, he whirled around, swinging his baseball bat with murderous intent. Luckily for me, his knee gave wave as he turned, eliciting an even louder cry of pain as he collapsed to the floor with a crunch of bones.
His bat still connected with my stomach, sending me careening backwards to slam awkwardly against the side of a dirt-covered armchair. The wooden armrest dug into my back, sending waves of intense pain coursing through me. My knife also went flying from my grasp. All the same, I appreciated the hours spent doing sit-ups and burpees, otherwise that blow to my stomach would have incapacitated me.
“You stinking varmint, I’m gonna gut you and string your entrails up for the crows!” the Skel hissed. Grimacing in pain, he clawed his way onto his knees and lifted the baseball bat.
I tried to ignore the pain lancing unmercifully through my torso and rolled quickly aside. The bat smashed into the chair, splintering the wooden armrest. I glanced at my fearful opponent and panic ripped through me – it would only take one solid hit and it would be all over.
I rolled under another swing and regained my feet. Picking up chunks of plaster and discarded DVD cases, I flung them at the Skel in quick succession. They ricocheted off his helmet, but he kept coming.
Remembering his weakness was his right side, I feinted to my left. As I expected, he lunged for me but then collapsed to his hands and knees when his injured leg gave out. Seeing an opportunity to escape, I jumped to the right and darted past him, making for the front door.
Ignoring his injury, the Skel twisted around and swung his bat with all his strength. It clipped my left thigh with enough force that I was sent sprawling against the wall beside the door, my shoulder smashing through the powder-like plaster sheeting. With freedom only a few steps away, I pushed myself off the wall and limped through the open doorway as fast as I could, grabbing the Skel’s surprisingly heavy metal and wood crossbow on the way out.
Chapter Eight
Now that I was in the front yard, I saw our truck parked in the driveway to my right. Con, Jack and Matt must have heard the Skel bellowing when I wounded him, for they were on their feet, looking in my direction, clearly alarmed.
“Skel!” I screamed as I limped/ran.
“In the truck, quick!” Con shouted. He didn’t need to say it twice. The three of them were off like a shot, faces white with terror.
My heart missed a beat when I realised I couldn’t see Ryan on the far side of the truck where he had been sitting
Similar Books
