Read Online Nightmare of the Dead: Rise of the Zombies by Vincenzo Bilof - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vincenzo Bilof
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driven them to the depths of depravity—what happened?
The boy once again glanced over his shoulder as the hooves thundered upon the ground. Bannan moved then, and her mouth moved, too, but if the sound escaped from her mouth, it didn't matter. The flames that coursed over the town sounded like a thousand whips cracking at once, such was the intensity of their burn. Nothing from that place would be saved. Nothing would be salvaged.
That was Santiago's purpose.
From the edges of reality and time, she wanted to shout at herself, shake the woman who merely stood with her hands on the guns. Shoot Santiago. Stop him while you still can. What will you win by allowing him to have his way? Take him in the back and let his body molder within the flames. Take the boy and help him build a life. Perhaps leave him on a church doorstep. Save him, because nobody else will.
She was somehow different. She wasn't the woman who watched Santiago. The revulsion she felt now while the horse galloped into the bowels of damnation wasn't familiar to the version of herself that stood near the heat o f the flames and watched with mouth agape.
Hot ash carried by a sudden wind caused her eyelids to blink frantically.
Shoot him. Save the boy.
Who was this woman? How could she allow such terror? She was no different from the bloodthirsty creatures that hunted her in the marshland.
The horse galloped onward, and a glowing shaft of sunlight fell upon the burning town as the boy cried out for his mother .)
***
It was easy to occupy her mind with these ruminations while she waited in the darkness for terror to find her.
McPhee fell asleep against her shoulder, and she continued to watch the shadows. Her stomach growled, and her throat ached for a sip of water from the canteen amongst her belongings. It wasn't far away, yet, she didn't want to give away their position. What if the creatures waited for them to emerge?
Perception became warped by the long minutes and the desolate, featureless shadows. She was alone against the light of the moon and its propensity to wrestle with her concept of reality. She tried to re-focus her mind and think about the long, strange day she'd experienced. She remembered Bill Carter, young and dead, like his brother. She thought about Santiago's cold eyes, and Doctor Lynch's odd laughter.
There. A pair of glowing, feral eyes were trained on her from between the black brambles and swaying boughs. She stared back and waited. No part of her wanted to move. She forgot about the guns in her fists. Her lips wanted to form words, but they could not. Her will abandoned her in the wake of soul-devouring fear.
Her entire body seemed to sink beneath the weight of strength-sapping exhaustion. McPhee dozed soundly, and she slowly turned their bodies so she could eye their surroundings without losing sight of the glowing eyes that waited in the brush. If they were surrounded, the fight would prove challenging, although Bannan could never admit that a situation was hopeless.
How could those eyes glow? She had to talk herself down, slow her heartbeat. Even if those beasts had once been mortal men, they couldn't be gifted with any extraordinary powers. She almost believed that a touch of moonlight had highlighted a set of malicious eyes. It might have been foolish to move, no matter how slowly, but if those were eyes, they were clearly leveled upon her. As she turned, the eyes seemed to disappear into the dark. The temptation to breathe a sigh of relief was crushed when a swath of tall grass crunched beneath the weight of something heavy.
In McPhee's ear, she whispered, "Wake up."
When he didn't stir, she gritted her teeth and said it again. A low growl emanated from the shadows. She took a deep breath and decided she was going to do what needed to be done.
With her arms raised about McPhee's broad shoulders, she bit her bottom lip and counted to ten. One more sudden movement and she would open fire. Her fingers were ready.
The boy once again glanced over his shoulder as the hooves thundered upon the ground. Bannan moved then, and her mouth moved, too, but if the sound escaped from her mouth, it didn't matter. The flames that coursed over the town sounded like a thousand whips cracking at once, such was the intensity of their burn. Nothing from that place would be saved. Nothing would be salvaged.
That was Santiago's purpose.
From the edges of reality and time, she wanted to shout at herself, shake the woman who merely stood with her hands on the guns. Shoot Santiago. Stop him while you still can. What will you win by allowing him to have his way? Take him in the back and let his body molder within the flames. Take the boy and help him build a life. Perhaps leave him on a church doorstep. Save him, because nobody else will.
She was somehow different. She wasn't the woman who watched Santiago. The revulsion she felt now while the horse galloped into the bowels of damnation wasn't familiar to the version of herself that stood near the heat o f the flames and watched with mouth agape.
Hot ash carried by a sudden wind caused her eyelids to blink frantically.
Shoot him. Save the boy.
Who was this woman? How could she allow such terror? She was no different from the bloodthirsty creatures that hunted her in the marshland.
The horse galloped onward, and a glowing shaft of sunlight fell upon the burning town as the boy cried out for his mother .)
***
It was easy to occupy her mind with these ruminations while she waited in the darkness for terror to find her.
McPhee fell asleep against her shoulder, and she continued to watch the shadows. Her stomach growled, and her throat ached for a sip of water from the canteen amongst her belongings. It wasn't far away, yet, she didn't want to give away their position. What if the creatures waited for them to emerge?
Perception became warped by the long minutes and the desolate, featureless shadows. She was alone against the light of the moon and its propensity to wrestle with her concept of reality. She tried to re-focus her mind and think about the long, strange day she'd experienced. She remembered Bill Carter, young and dead, like his brother. She thought about Santiago's cold eyes, and Doctor Lynch's odd laughter.
There. A pair of glowing, feral eyes were trained on her from between the black brambles and swaying boughs. She stared back and waited. No part of her wanted to move. She forgot about the guns in her fists. Her lips wanted to form words, but they could not. Her will abandoned her in the wake of soul-devouring fear.
Her entire body seemed to sink beneath the weight of strength-sapping exhaustion. McPhee dozed soundly, and she slowly turned their bodies so she could eye their surroundings without losing sight of the glowing eyes that waited in the brush. If they were surrounded, the fight would prove challenging, although Bannan could never admit that a situation was hopeless.
How could those eyes glow? She had to talk herself down, slow her heartbeat. Even if those beasts had once been mortal men, they couldn't be gifted with any extraordinary powers. She almost believed that a touch of moonlight had highlighted a set of malicious eyes. It might have been foolish to move, no matter how slowly, but if those were eyes, they were clearly leveled upon her. As she turned, the eyes seemed to disappear into the dark. The temptation to breathe a sigh of relief was crushed when a swath of tall grass crunched beneath the weight of something heavy.
In McPhee's ear, she whispered, "Wake up."
When he didn't stir, she gritted her teeth and said it again. A low growl emanated from the shadows. She took a deep breath and decided she was going to do what needed to be done.
With her arms raised about McPhee's broad shoulders, she bit her bottom lip and counted to ten. One more sudden movement and she would open fire. Her fingers were ready.
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