Read Online Rise & Walk (Book 2): Pathogen by Gregory Solis - Free Book Online Page A

flare burned an arc through the air, lighting up the area underneath.  As the flare landed about three house-lengths away, Mason could make out two shapes shambling towards him.  The eerie orange backlight created inhumanly elongated shadows for both forms that reached out towards him.  Mason drew his Katana with his right hand and held the scabbard as a blocking weapon in his left. Okay; do I get Tony, or just do this myself?   He calculated that he didn’t have the time to get his friend without allowing the creatures too get close to the house.  I better do this, fast and quiet .  Jack Mason began to run towards the figures. A plan formed in his mind; he would thrust for the eye on the first monster and push its body into the second.  He hoped the force would be enough to punch the chisel-like tip of his sword into the creature’s brain.  He’d have to see how the momentum went and improvise the rest after that.  Mason was centered and knew what he had to do.  He closed the distance fast and raised his arm like a jouster, ready to strike.  Mason was shocked to see the first creature throw a small flashlight.  The tin flashlight missed him and shattered its plastic top on the roadway. The creature then raised a pair of scissors defensively and shrieked in fear.  It’s a person! , he realized.  Jack stopped short and swung his sword arm to the side to avoid spearing the cowering figure’s face.  This left his stance open and unprepared for the second figure, just paces behind the first.  The creature sprang on Mason with a foul intent sending him tumbling back to the asphalt. 
    Margaret’s heart raced painfully.  She didn’t know what to make of the two shapes struggling in the street.  She searched in her pocket for her sandwich bag of pills and managed to secure one of the small tablets.  She placed the medicine under her tongue while backing away from the conflict.  It dissolved quickly and her heart began to settle. 
    Mason’s protective motorcycle vest scraped loudly against the unforgiving asphalt.  The creature snapped wildly above him.  It clenched a slippery hand on Mason’s neck.  The sensation of its cold, wet paw filled Mason with revulsion and anger; anger that he let it get this close; close enough to touch him with his infected, filthy hand. Where the hell is Tony when I need him?
    Mason didn’t want to let go of his sword but he needed his hand for close quarters fighting.  Experience and practicality won in his mind and the sword clattered free.  Mason brought his hand up under the attacking creature’s chin and drove his thumb into a nerve cluster underneath its jaw.  He was shocked that it had no effect. Usually, pressure on the nerve would cause pain, severe pain, and instinctively drive the head away. Shit? Mason thought.  The thought that the dead were unaffected by tried and true combat techniques sent an extra shot of adrenalin to his gut.  Mason was still able to use his hand positioning to control the beast’s head.  He pushed off with his right leg and rolled on top of the writhing ghoul.  A rancid smell of ammonia and meat stung his nose.  He pushed his left hand onto the creatures chin, driving its head sideways and brought his right fist down on its temple.  Mason struck it again and again with angry blows until he felt cold moisture soak through his motorcycle gloves.  Pressure points may not work but good old physical force was still in play.  Mason stood, tore off his motorcycle glove, and stomped on the twitching beast’s head. A wet sound emitted from the body with an unnerving rattle.  Removing a light stick from his pocket, he ripped open the package and snapped it to mix the contents.  With a shake it began to emit a soft green glow. 
    Margaret had backed away from the struggle until she nudged into an old Ford Taurus.  Mason retrieved his sword and scabbard and saw that she was still retreating, her hand tracing the shape of the