Read Online Slow Burn (Book 4): Dead Fire by Bobby Adair - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bobby Adair
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Ads: Link
were excited and they were coming, coming toward the sound of the boat in the river right in front of me.
I ran at a full sprint to ward the dock and waved.
What had frightened her off?
My boots stomped noisily across the boards over the water and I stopped as I got to the edge, waving, and yelling “Hey! Hey!” She still had plenty of time to pick me up.
A s I came to a stop, she looked at me, with an unreadable expression. She made one more full throttle circle, and as she straightened the boat out, extended her arm toward me, flipped a middle finger, and let it stand brazenly as she headed up the river.
Then it occurred to me that she was calling the infected down to my location and she was abandoning me.
Fucking Dalhover was right!
I screamed across the water at the top of my lungs, “Vindictive cunt!”
And as the reverberation of my scream faded from my ears with the receding sound of the motor, the clomping of running feet on wooden planks told me that I’d just fucked up in royal fashion. But that’s as far as that thought went, because a body slammed me from behind, knocking the wind out of me as I splashed into the cold green water with a hysterical, hairless monkey on my back.
Chapter 9
Bodies pressed me down through the cold water and into the muddy bottom. Hands tore at my clothes and grasped for my throat. Panicked arms and legs flailed. There were more than two of us in the water. My face was being pressed into the mud. My feet were above me. I squirmed.
Air!
I needed air so desperately!
I spun, wrestled, and lost my sense of which way was up. All reason was gone. Only mindless panic and my need for air were left. My feet hit something solid and I kicked out hard. My head broke the surface for half a second and I gasped as hands clawed at my face to drag me back down and lift themselves out.
I was back under.
Elbows, knees, fingers, and teeth. However many of us there were, we were all struggling at a primal level to use one another’s bodies to get our own heads above the water.
Escape or die!
I caught a second half-breath and then I was under again.
With some oxygen in my blood , I was able to form a thought. I pulled a knee to my chest and kicked out hard against a body as hands held firmly to my ankle. Paddling mightily with my hands, I got my head above water for another breath. The hands on my ankle wouldn’t release, so I kicked, and kicked, and kicked with my free leg, hitting flesh and bone. Then I was away from the grasping hands.
Underwater, I swam hard for a few strokes and got another face full of mud as my teeth ground against a stone buried in the muck. I pulled my feet under and pushed to shoot my head above water again, just barely. I sucked as much air as I could before the weight of my equipment dragged me back down.
Once under, I danced my feet around to find the bottom as I sank. It took several long seconds of sinking. The water was way too deep to stand. I didn’t know where the shore was. I needed to get several long breaths or I was going to drown. In desperation, I shed my rifle, my pistol, and my machete and pushed off of the bottom again to get my head above water.
With most of the weight off, I was able to get a good breath , but my vest, still full of magazines, dragged me back under.
It was harder to get rid of. I bounced off the bottom again, breathed , and saw that I was twenty feet off the end of the pier and drifting slowly downstream. A dozen Whites were on the shore, focused on me and following me down.
Dragged under again by the weight of my vest, I struggled to peel it away. I pushed to the surface for another breath. It took longer to get up through the column of water above me. The river was getting deeper. If I didn’t shed the vest on this breath, I might not get another chance. Back underwater, I tore at the vest with frantic hands until finally, it fell away. I kicked and struggled back up again until my head broke the surface. Just
I ran at a full sprint to ward the dock and waved.
What had frightened her off?
My boots stomped noisily across the boards over the water and I stopped as I got to the edge, waving, and yelling “Hey! Hey!” She still had plenty of time to pick me up.
A s I came to a stop, she looked at me, with an unreadable expression. She made one more full throttle circle, and as she straightened the boat out, extended her arm toward me, flipped a middle finger, and let it stand brazenly as she headed up the river.
Then it occurred to me that she was calling the infected down to my location and she was abandoning me.
Fucking Dalhover was right!
I screamed across the water at the top of my lungs, “Vindictive cunt!”
And as the reverberation of my scream faded from my ears with the receding sound of the motor, the clomping of running feet on wooden planks told me that I’d just fucked up in royal fashion. But that’s as far as that thought went, because a body slammed me from behind, knocking the wind out of me as I splashed into the cold green water with a hysterical, hairless monkey on my back.
Chapter 9
Bodies pressed me down through the cold water and into the muddy bottom. Hands tore at my clothes and grasped for my throat. Panicked arms and legs flailed. There were more than two of us in the water. My face was being pressed into the mud. My feet were above me. I squirmed.
Air!
I needed air so desperately!
I spun, wrestled, and lost my sense of which way was up. All reason was gone. Only mindless panic and my need for air were left. My feet hit something solid and I kicked out hard. My head broke the surface for half a second and I gasped as hands clawed at my face to drag me back down and lift themselves out.
I was back under.
Elbows, knees, fingers, and teeth. However many of us there were, we were all struggling at a primal level to use one another’s bodies to get our own heads above the water.
Escape or die!
I caught a second half-breath and then I was under again.
With some oxygen in my blood , I was able to form a thought. I pulled a knee to my chest and kicked out hard against a body as hands held firmly to my ankle. Paddling mightily with my hands, I got my head above water for another breath. The hands on my ankle wouldn’t release, so I kicked, and kicked, and kicked with my free leg, hitting flesh and bone. Then I was away from the grasping hands.
Underwater, I swam hard for a few strokes and got another face full of mud as my teeth ground against a stone buried in the muck. I pulled my feet under and pushed to shoot my head above water again, just barely. I sucked as much air as I could before the weight of my equipment dragged me back down.
Once under, I danced my feet around to find the bottom as I sank. It took several long seconds of sinking. The water was way too deep to stand. I didn’t know where the shore was. I needed to get several long breaths or I was going to drown. In desperation, I shed my rifle, my pistol, and my machete and pushed off of the bottom again to get my head above water.
With most of the weight off, I was able to get a good breath , but my vest, still full of magazines, dragged me back under.
It was harder to get rid of. I bounced off the bottom again, breathed , and saw that I was twenty feet off the end of the pier and drifting slowly downstream. A dozen Whites were on the shore, focused on me and following me down.
Dragged under again by the weight of my vest, I struggled to peel it away. I pushed to the surface for another breath. It took longer to get up through the column of water above me. The river was getting deeper. If I didn’t shed the vest on this breath, I might not get another chance. Back underwater, I tore at the vest with frantic hands until finally, it fell away. I kicked and struggled back up again until my head broke the surface. Just
Similar Books
