Read Online SEAL Team 13 (SEAL Team 13 series) by Evan Currie - Free Book Online
Authors: Evan Currie
Ads: Link
for an accident of epic proportions, I don’t know what is.
“Is anyone there?!” he called out again as he approached the second machine shop, whose doors were also closed. What the hell is going on here?
He hammered on the side door with his free hand, then wrenched it open. As he took a step inside, the air from within struck him, warm and filled with a cloying smell that made his stomach churn. Leland held back the urge to retch, to spill his last meal over the slush and ice and mud, and reflexively shifted his grip on the shotgun as he brought the weapon up.
It was a smell he knew.
The air inside smelled of death.
Not much blood, but he could smell the distinctive odor of recent decomposition. Leland braced his shotgun on his arm as he reached around to see if he could locate a light switch by the door. The interior of the building was dark, even more so than the falling twilight outside, and he couldn’t make out anything but a few large shadows.
“Barrow PD!” he called, eyes searching the darkness as his hand felt along the wall. “Is anyone here? Announce yourself!”
He found the switch, finally, and flipped the industrial lever up. The power snapped on audibly as the lights began to emit a low glow, bathing the building in an orange shade. He squinted, barely distinguishing forms in the shadows, people moving.
“I’m Sheriff Leland Griffin,” he said. “Is everyone all right in here?”
The lights made another snapping noise, half of them flickering out just as Leland caught a hint of motion in the corner of his eye and turned his head to the left. He screamed in shock, and then horror, as a figure descended on him suddenly and locked its jaws around his left forearm, biting down hard enough that he felt the bone crunch.
The pain was unreal, and Leland reacted automatically by trying to rip his arm free, only to realize that his attacker was holding on like a pit bull. He used the shotgun like a club, beating the man about the face and head but not wanting to resort to deadly force.
“Let go, you crazy bastard!” he yelled, still beating the man with the weapon.
With a final wrench, one that triggered a near sickening agony from his arm, Leland pulled himself loose and fell back and away from his attacker. He stared in horrified shock at his attacker as the lights snapped back to full brightness.
It was a man, or maybe it used to be—Leland didn’t know if he’d still call it human, as badly torn up as it seemed to be. Pustules had formed on the creature’s face, and the skin seemed to be flapping away from the bone in places as it bared its teeth at him and snarled.
“Jesus,” he swore, unable to quite help himself. “You look like hell, son.”
The thing, man, whatever it was standing there in front of him didn’t seem impressed with his concern, however, and it look another step in his direction. Leland shifted the shotgun so that it was pointed right at the man’s chest and shook his head.
“Don’t do it, son,” he said. “I’m not keen on blowing you away, but you ain’t taking another bite out of me.”
The big bore of the pump twelve-gauge didn’t seem to be much of a deterrent, unfortunately, as the figure continued to step closer, his proximity making Leland’s heart race. He took a deep breath, fighting back the urge to gag as the smell of rot overwhelmed him again.
“I am an officer of the law! Stop walking toward me or I will fire!” Leland practically chanted as he stepped back.
Part of him wanted nothing more than to drop the hammer on the bastard who’d just taken a chunk out of him, but he let himself sink into the rote responses he’d learned a long time ago, in what seemed like a different life. None of it mattered, though—the man kept stumbling in his direction with the clear intent to continue the attack, and when Leland felt a rail pressing into his back he pursed his lips and shook his head as his intellect tried to deny what his body was
“Is anyone there?!” he called out again as he approached the second machine shop, whose doors were also closed. What the hell is going on here?
He hammered on the side door with his free hand, then wrenched it open. As he took a step inside, the air from within struck him, warm and filled with a cloying smell that made his stomach churn. Leland held back the urge to retch, to spill his last meal over the slush and ice and mud, and reflexively shifted his grip on the shotgun as he brought the weapon up.
It was a smell he knew.
The air inside smelled of death.
Not much blood, but he could smell the distinctive odor of recent decomposition. Leland braced his shotgun on his arm as he reached around to see if he could locate a light switch by the door. The interior of the building was dark, even more so than the falling twilight outside, and he couldn’t make out anything but a few large shadows.
“Barrow PD!” he called, eyes searching the darkness as his hand felt along the wall. “Is anyone here? Announce yourself!”
He found the switch, finally, and flipped the industrial lever up. The power snapped on audibly as the lights began to emit a low glow, bathing the building in an orange shade. He squinted, barely distinguishing forms in the shadows, people moving.
“I’m Sheriff Leland Griffin,” he said. “Is everyone all right in here?”
The lights made another snapping noise, half of them flickering out just as Leland caught a hint of motion in the corner of his eye and turned his head to the left. He screamed in shock, and then horror, as a figure descended on him suddenly and locked its jaws around his left forearm, biting down hard enough that he felt the bone crunch.
The pain was unreal, and Leland reacted automatically by trying to rip his arm free, only to realize that his attacker was holding on like a pit bull. He used the shotgun like a club, beating the man about the face and head but not wanting to resort to deadly force.
“Let go, you crazy bastard!” he yelled, still beating the man with the weapon.
With a final wrench, one that triggered a near sickening agony from his arm, Leland pulled himself loose and fell back and away from his attacker. He stared in horrified shock at his attacker as the lights snapped back to full brightness.
It was a man, or maybe it used to be—Leland didn’t know if he’d still call it human, as badly torn up as it seemed to be. Pustules had formed on the creature’s face, and the skin seemed to be flapping away from the bone in places as it bared its teeth at him and snarled.
“Jesus,” he swore, unable to quite help himself. “You look like hell, son.”
The thing, man, whatever it was standing there in front of him didn’t seem impressed with his concern, however, and it look another step in his direction. Leland shifted the shotgun so that it was pointed right at the man’s chest and shook his head.
“Don’t do it, son,” he said. “I’m not keen on blowing you away, but you ain’t taking another bite out of me.”
The big bore of the pump twelve-gauge didn’t seem to be much of a deterrent, unfortunately, as the figure continued to step closer, his proximity making Leland’s heart race. He took a deep breath, fighting back the urge to gag as the smell of rot overwhelmed him again.
“I am an officer of the law! Stop walking toward me or I will fire!” Leland practically chanted as he stepped back.
Part of him wanted nothing more than to drop the hammer on the bastard who’d just taken a chunk out of him, but he let himself sink into the rote responses he’d learned a long time ago, in what seemed like a different life. None of it mattered, though—the man kept stumbling in his direction with the clear intent to continue the attack, and when Leland felt a rail pressing into his back he pursed his lips and shook his head as his intellect tried to deny what his body was
Similar Books
