Read Online Paragenesis: Stories of the Dawn of Wraeththu by Storm Constantine - Free Book Online

the heel of his palm; blood spurted up immediately and
he licked the wound.
    “Sharp!” He laughed spitefully.
“This’ll do some damage.”
    I swallowed hard and closed my
eyes, but it didn’t do any good, I could still see the blade.
    I held my breath and when I
felt him shift his weight a bit I bucked hard and rolled.
    My bid for freedom didn’t get
me far; I ended up face down on the garage floor; my face pushed
into the oily reek of old car grease and gasoline. They had my arm
twisted so far behind my back that I held my breath afraid that
even the slightest movement would snap it. I could feel their
leader’s weight on me, pinning me to the floor.
    “I like a fighter,” he growled,
his face near enough to my ear that I could feel the heat of his
breath.
    The knife sliced into my left
shoulder. The leader grabbed the wound roughly, pressing hard into
my shoulder, twisting the wound until I yelled.
    He lowered his face again, so
that his lips were touching my ear. “Now you are mine.”
    Then one of his group shouted,
“They know we’re here! Let’s go! Fast! Move out! Go! Go! Go!”
    The creatures reacted to the
alarm immediately. I was dragged to my feet and shoved at a tall
Wraeththu in a leather jacket.
    “Don’t lose him,” barked their
leader.
    They moved quickly and
silently. I was dragged, shoved, and hustled along with them; out
into the night street.
    There were some yells and a
popping noise. Something whizzed past my face. I heard a grunt from
the creature dragging me and when he fell I dove for cover,
crawling through a small hole in a chain-linked fence.
    Then I ran until the first dark
doorway arch I encountered. Although it smelled of urine and decay,
I pressed myself as flat as I could and waited. It seemed like
forever before the shouts and the running feet faded. Still I
waited.
    Dawn found me beneath a rusty
fire escape hidden behind some battered garbage cans. I’d been
woken by the sound of squeaky wheels and shuffling feet. I waited
silently until they passed; two old men pushing an old shopping
cart loaded high with junk. They muttered to themselves as they
passed.
    I weighed my options. I
couldn’t go back to my old ‘hood. I was alone now and I’d be marked
for revenge by all those with grievances, real or imagined, against
those I’d relied on. I also couldn’t stay out alone. You didn’t
survive alone. I’d have to squirrel into another area and try and
work my way into a new group.
    I felt awful that morning: a
heavy queasiness accompanied by the chills, and my shoulder really
hurt to move. I was weak and shaky. Daylight in the city was safer
than night, but I still moved cautiously through the streets; it
never paid to draw attention to oneself.
    As the morning wore on, I felt
progressively worse; nauseous. My stomach cramped. By midday my
head was swimming. I felt so sick and dizzy. I stopped to retch a
few times.
    The earth began to rumble and a
mechanical throbbing filled the air, a warning that motivated me to
find safety behind a burnt-out wreck of a car. I huddled there as
several army patrol tanks and armoured cars rumbled slowly down the
street.
    I’d often toyed with the idea
of flagging one of these patrols down and throwing myself at their
mercy, but they worked for those humans who existed in the gated
communities; there was no room in those safe havens for
disenfranchised hard-luck stragglers.
    By late afternoon I was fairly
sure I was dying; whatever disease I’d picked up was progressing
rapidly. By the time I crawled into a rusty, crumbling dumpster, I
could barely walk. I huddled there scared and feeling beyond
miserable.
    “Eww. He’s a mess.”
    “Don’t look at me! I haven’t
done anyone in weeks…”
    I could hear voices.
    “Well get him out of there! We
can’t have him hollering like that out here. He’ll attract too much
attention.”
    I tried opening my eyes, but it
was hard; they didn’t open all the way and my face felt swollen.