Read Online Renegades by Michaelbrent Collings - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michaelbrent Collings
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internally. Ready for Christopher to point to the crane, to where the hordes would be screaming across.
But he didn’t. He was looking the other way.
There was something behind Ken.
Something already there with them .
32
Fear surfed electric waves up and down Ken’s back. The hordes had come in behind them. It must be that. They were surrounded.
Then he heard Aaron curse. Not a fearful curse, more a resigned one. The sound of a soldier dealing with tragedy, not terror.
“Cover the girl’s eyes,” said Aaron. His voice a reverent whisper.
Ken did, putting his hand across Hope’s eyes even as he turned.
It was Buck. Sobbing, kneeling on the floor before a pile of wreckage whose once-purpose Ken could not even begin to guess at. No doubt once an integral part of this room, this building, now it was just a tangled collision of steel and trash and concrete; wood and plaster and melted bits of plastic.
And flesh.
The gray man knelt before his mother. The old lady’s mouth was working, opening and closing and opening and closing as though she had been caught in the grips of the world’s worst indecision.
She looked at the others. Only her eyes moved. Her head did not shift. It couldn’t. A thin shaft of metal – perhaps a piece of a cabinet, maybe the support bar of a desk organizer – jutted out of her cheekbone, disappearing into her skull and pinning her to the junk pile that had somehow melded itself to her.
Her mouth opened again. This time blood drooled out. The old woman’s body was broken. Bent in too many ways to count, probably shattered a hundred different ways inside.
“Help… me…,” she whispered.
Growling erupted behind them.
Ken looked back. The things that had been following them up the crane were now running down the jib. They coated it, swarming over the gangplank, climbing along the outside supports, even hanging like rabid monkeys from underneath it. He couldn’t even see the metal.
“Come on,” he said, and started to move. One hand holding Maggie’s hand, the other still shielding Hope’s face.
Buck spoke, the man’s voice much different now than it had been before. It had lost its haughtiness, its entitlement. Humility had been forced upon him. “Wait,” he said. “We can’t leave her.”
Ken was saved from having to respond by Aaron. The cowboy was gruff, direct. And honest. “She’s dead already. And we have to leave.”
“Don’t… don’t… leave… me….” The woman’s voice was a gurgling whisper, a brook burning away to lifelessness under a relentless sun.
Buck looked at the others. “Will they let her die?” he asked.
Ken didn’t know. And he could tell that the others didn’t know, either.
Buck dissolved into tears. He buried his face in his mother’s chest, and looked for all the world like a child after a hard day at school.
Aaron slung Dorcas’ arm around his shoulders, and they moved toward the other end of the area, where there was a hole that might once have been an exit. Ken couldn’t tell if the cowboy was supporting Dorcas, or if she was supporting him. He supposed they probably didn’t know, either.
“I can’t let them turn her!” shouted Buck.
Christopher followed after Dorcas and Aaron.
“I can’t!” Buck was shrieking now. His voice a piercing, whining whistle.
Ken took Maggie and Hope and limped after the others.
The growl of the horde close behind. The sobs of the grown man-child even closer.
33
Ken followed the others into the hole. There was nowhere else to go: all else was collapsed wreckage, destruction, and behind them an empty area that was sure to be swarming with zombies soon. So he walked into darkness, still hearing the sounds of Buck sobbing behind.
He almost ran into Aaron. The older man was moving back toward the area they had just left, Dorcas pulling on his arm.
“Don’t,” she
But he didn’t. He was looking the other way.
There was something behind Ken.
Something already there with them .
32
Fear surfed electric waves up and down Ken’s back. The hordes had come in behind them. It must be that. They were surrounded.
Then he heard Aaron curse. Not a fearful curse, more a resigned one. The sound of a soldier dealing with tragedy, not terror.
“Cover the girl’s eyes,” said Aaron. His voice a reverent whisper.
Ken did, putting his hand across Hope’s eyes even as he turned.
It was Buck. Sobbing, kneeling on the floor before a pile of wreckage whose once-purpose Ken could not even begin to guess at. No doubt once an integral part of this room, this building, now it was just a tangled collision of steel and trash and concrete; wood and plaster and melted bits of plastic.
And flesh.
The gray man knelt before his mother. The old lady’s mouth was working, opening and closing and opening and closing as though she had been caught in the grips of the world’s worst indecision.
She looked at the others. Only her eyes moved. Her head did not shift. It couldn’t. A thin shaft of metal – perhaps a piece of a cabinet, maybe the support bar of a desk organizer – jutted out of her cheekbone, disappearing into her skull and pinning her to the junk pile that had somehow melded itself to her.
Her mouth opened again. This time blood drooled out. The old woman’s body was broken. Bent in too many ways to count, probably shattered a hundred different ways inside.
“Help… me…,” she whispered.
Growling erupted behind them.
Ken looked back. The things that had been following them up the crane were now running down the jib. They coated it, swarming over the gangplank, climbing along the outside supports, even hanging like rabid monkeys from underneath it. He couldn’t even see the metal.
“Come on,” he said, and started to move. One hand holding Maggie’s hand, the other still shielding Hope’s face.
Buck spoke, the man’s voice much different now than it had been before. It had lost its haughtiness, its entitlement. Humility had been forced upon him. “Wait,” he said. “We can’t leave her.”
Ken was saved from having to respond by Aaron. The cowboy was gruff, direct. And honest. “She’s dead already. And we have to leave.”
“Don’t… don’t… leave… me….” The woman’s voice was a gurgling whisper, a brook burning away to lifelessness under a relentless sun.
Buck looked at the others. “Will they let her die?” he asked.
Ken didn’t know. And he could tell that the others didn’t know, either.
Buck dissolved into tears. He buried his face in his mother’s chest, and looked for all the world like a child after a hard day at school.
Aaron slung Dorcas’ arm around his shoulders, and they moved toward the other end of the area, where there was a hole that might once have been an exit. Ken couldn’t tell if the cowboy was supporting Dorcas, or if she was supporting him. He supposed they probably didn’t know, either.
“I can’t let them turn her!” shouted Buck.
Christopher followed after Dorcas and Aaron.
“I can’t!” Buck was shrieking now. His voice a piercing, whining whistle.
Ken took Maggie and Hope and limped after the others.
The growl of the horde close behind. The sobs of the grown man-child even closer.
33
Ken followed the others into the hole. There was nowhere else to go: all else was collapsed wreckage, destruction, and behind them an empty area that was sure to be swarming with zombies soon. So he walked into darkness, still hearing the sounds of Buck sobbing behind.
He almost ran into Aaron. The older man was moving back toward the area they had just left, Dorcas pulling on his arm.
“Don’t,” she
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