Read Online Revenence (Novella): Dead Red by M.E. Betts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: M.E. Betts
Tags: Zombies
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tears. They poured from her eyes, coating her face and hairline. She confronted the full brunt of the pain burnt into her, allowing the physical and mental agony to merge together in her psychological distress. Together they condensed inside her until they flooded out with her tears and screaming sobs.
After a few minutes, having spent much of her energy, she began to wind down. She focused, with no small amount of will power, on those people, places and times which had brought her peace. She had some vague, nebulous memories of early childhood, when she had still lived with her biological family. Mostly, though, her life had been blissfully uneventful before that point, at least the parts she had been old enough to remember. There were merely hazy recollections of a simple, innocent time, a time when she had everything she needed.
It was only after some months of living with the Andersons on their rural property in Kentucky that Daphne began to develop a love of the wild, and the woods behind the house became her refuge. She had stumbled upon some old, forgotten military survival guides in Mr. Anderson's tool shed, including several covering the flora, fauna and geology of the local area. Using these field guides and some phonics that she recalled from kindergarten in Chicago, she taught herself to read fluently while simultaneously learning about the wild environments around her. She studied all the plants she could identify, tasting those said to be edible and steering clear of those purported to be poison.
Although the woods were a part of her, given that she freely assimilated herself with them, she couldn't initially wander their depths as she would have liked to. The tracking shock collar with which the Andersons had fitted her would only permit 50 yards of range. Daphne knew that the distance would have been even shorter if it weren't for a bothersome alarm which would sound from inside the house when she did chores such as taking the garbage to the dumpster or dragging tree branches to the fire pit. Since Mrs. Andersen couldn't abide the interference of the shrill beeping while watching her soaps and game shows, Daphne had been given more range.
Her love of the woods had continued during her in-patient treatment, as well as after her release, when she had taken a taxi from the facility to the woods near the Andersons' farm. In these woods, she had hidden away her titanium knife, burying it beneath an ancient, gnarled oak. Upon her return, she quickly found the tree and excavated her knife, cradling it to her breast as tears of relief poured down her face.
The taloned huntress had spent the remainder of the short time before the dead arose wandering Kentucky, lurking on the fringes of sleepy farming communities. She was always amused to hear whisperings of a ghostly woman on the edge of town, misplacing and stealing random, mundane items such as jerkied snacks and leather gardening gloves. Despite her nomadic, penniless lifestyle, Daphne had felt truly content for the first time since parting with her biological family in Chicago. She moved of her own volition, seeing the stars from a different part of the woods each night. She slept outdoors, seeking shelter only in freezes and downpours, and lived off of foraging and hunting what she could while stealing the rest from yards and outbuildings.
When the apocalypse came, her lifestyle barely changed, other than her primary concern shifting from sneaking amongst humans to a mixture of living and undead. She thought of contented memories in the woods. She thought of Shari and Hugo, and the other people she had grown to like, even love, since the end of the old world.
As she lay prone and restrained, with her flesh throbbing and itching beyond rational comprehension, her respirations were slow and deliberate, attempting to rein in her self-composure. Although
After a few minutes, having spent much of her energy, she began to wind down. She focused, with no small amount of will power, on those people, places and times which had brought her peace. She had some vague, nebulous memories of early childhood, when she had still lived with her biological family. Mostly, though, her life had been blissfully uneventful before that point, at least the parts she had been old enough to remember. There were merely hazy recollections of a simple, innocent time, a time when she had everything she needed.
It was only after some months of living with the Andersons on their rural property in Kentucky that Daphne began to develop a love of the wild, and the woods behind the house became her refuge. She had stumbled upon some old, forgotten military survival guides in Mr. Anderson's tool shed, including several covering the flora, fauna and geology of the local area. Using these field guides and some phonics that she recalled from kindergarten in Chicago, she taught herself to read fluently while simultaneously learning about the wild environments around her. She studied all the plants she could identify, tasting those said to be edible and steering clear of those purported to be poison.
Although the woods were a part of her, given that she freely assimilated herself with them, she couldn't initially wander their depths as she would have liked to. The tracking shock collar with which the Andersons had fitted her would only permit 50 yards of range. Daphne knew that the distance would have been even shorter if it weren't for a bothersome alarm which would sound from inside the house when she did chores such as taking the garbage to the dumpster or dragging tree branches to the fire pit. Since Mrs. Andersen couldn't abide the interference of the shrill beeping while watching her soaps and game shows, Daphne had been given more range.
Her love of the woods had continued during her in-patient treatment, as well as after her release, when she had taken a taxi from the facility to the woods near the Andersons' farm. In these woods, she had hidden away her titanium knife, burying it beneath an ancient, gnarled oak. Upon her return, she quickly found the tree and excavated her knife, cradling it to her breast as tears of relief poured down her face.
The taloned huntress had spent the remainder of the short time before the dead arose wandering Kentucky, lurking on the fringes of sleepy farming communities. She was always amused to hear whisperings of a ghostly woman on the edge of town, misplacing and stealing random, mundane items such as jerkied snacks and leather gardening gloves. Despite her nomadic, penniless lifestyle, Daphne had felt truly content for the first time since parting with her biological family in Chicago. She moved of her own volition, seeing the stars from a different part of the woods each night. She slept outdoors, seeking shelter only in freezes and downpours, and lived off of foraging and hunting what she could while stealing the rest from yards and outbuildings.
When the apocalypse came, her lifestyle barely changed, other than her primary concern shifting from sneaking amongst humans to a mixture of living and undead. She thought of contented memories in the woods. She thought of Shari and Hugo, and the other people she had grown to like, even love, since the end of the old world.
As she lay prone and restrained, with her flesh throbbing and itching beyond rational comprehension, her respirations were slow and deliberate, attempting to rein in her self-composure. Although
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