Read Online The Defectors (Defectors Trilogy) by Tarah Benner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tarah Benner
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but I had no way of knowing how bad it was.
Despite my injuries, I felt almost giddy for the first time in as long as I could remember. Maybe the feeling of lightness was from the loss of blood, but I didn’t care. I was going to make it. I could survive.
I didn’t know for sure how far behind the carriers would be, so I didn’t feel safe stopping for rest. It concerned me that they showed some level of remaining human intelligence and self-control by holding me hostage — although I had no way of knowing why they had or if this group of carriers was unique. Maybe everything I thought I knew about carriers was wrong. The authorities fed plenty of lies to the media; there was no reason they wouldn’t lie about carriers’ capabilities, too.
The plastic zip ties disturbed me the most. They showed forethought and introduced the idea that carriers might be taking hostages. Were they organizing? Did they have a plan to capture and infect or kill as many humans as possible? They were all half dead and dying anyway. There was no reason for them to obey laws or care how many people they slaughtered in the process.
To ward off the hunger pangs and lightheadedness I hoped was related to hunger and not the loss of blood, I nibbled on a few nuts and a piece of jerky — the only food I’d managed to salvage from the carriers’ bounty. I stopped only long enough to find water and rest my legs for a few brief moments.
The woods had lost their appeal for me. Now they seemed like an endless minefield of danger: carriers lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to stumble into their wake or the PMC tailing me from some helicopter above the trees. I knew I was getting paranoid, but was it truly paranoia if people really were out to get you?
Despite my slower pace over the last few hours, I knew I must have put some distance between myself and the carriers. My weary stumble was still faster than the carriers’ lurching pace on their best day.
Even so, I decided I would just sleep for a few hours and then continue on my journey. My head was throbbing from the wound, and I knew I needed to find food soon.
Since I had left my sleeping bag behind, I had no choice but to build a fire for warmth. Luckily, the striker still hung from my pack. I used very little wood and let the fire burn low to avoid attracting attention.
It wasn’t difficult to rouse myself after only a few hours of restless shut-eye. I was too cold and hungry and scared to fall into a deep sleep anyway. I had to force myself to push the thoughts of carriers out of my mind. I had much bigger worries than what they might be up to or why I had survived. They were still somewhere behind me, but I had to keep moving and find food.
Too weak to run, I drank some water and continued at a slow walk through the darkness. The only thing worse than walking in a weak, starved daze the day before was walking through the woods in the dark. My eyes adjusted to the night, but that only made the details I could see in the shadows even more terrifying.
As the sky began to lighten, I prayed I would spot a town that might have an abandoned general store or some place I could steal food. My feet ached from constant movement, my head was strangely fuzzy, and my stomach felt as if it were eating itself from the inside.
I was stumbling more than walking now; I felt almost drunk from the weakness that was cannibalizing my body. Blackness curled at the edges of my vision despite the glow of early sunlight around the changing leaves. It rimmed the trees in a sort of halo. Maybe this was heaven.
Was I dead?
No. Death couldn’t feel this awful — caught between the urge to vomit and a splitting headache. Beads of cold sweat bloomed on my forehead, and as I wiped them away, I had the awful sinking feeling that I was going to pass out.
I knew I wasn’t moving as quietly as I should. Carriers would be able to hear me a mile away if they managed to catch up. Let them get me
Despite my injuries, I felt almost giddy for the first time in as long as I could remember. Maybe the feeling of lightness was from the loss of blood, but I didn’t care. I was going to make it. I could survive.
I didn’t know for sure how far behind the carriers would be, so I didn’t feel safe stopping for rest. It concerned me that they showed some level of remaining human intelligence and self-control by holding me hostage — although I had no way of knowing why they had or if this group of carriers was unique. Maybe everything I thought I knew about carriers was wrong. The authorities fed plenty of lies to the media; there was no reason they wouldn’t lie about carriers’ capabilities, too.
The plastic zip ties disturbed me the most. They showed forethought and introduced the idea that carriers might be taking hostages. Were they organizing? Did they have a plan to capture and infect or kill as many humans as possible? They were all half dead and dying anyway. There was no reason for them to obey laws or care how many people they slaughtered in the process.
To ward off the hunger pangs and lightheadedness I hoped was related to hunger and not the loss of blood, I nibbled on a few nuts and a piece of jerky — the only food I’d managed to salvage from the carriers’ bounty. I stopped only long enough to find water and rest my legs for a few brief moments.
The woods had lost their appeal for me. Now they seemed like an endless minefield of danger: carriers lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to stumble into their wake or the PMC tailing me from some helicopter above the trees. I knew I was getting paranoid, but was it truly paranoia if people really were out to get you?
Despite my slower pace over the last few hours, I knew I must have put some distance between myself and the carriers. My weary stumble was still faster than the carriers’ lurching pace on their best day.
Even so, I decided I would just sleep for a few hours and then continue on my journey. My head was throbbing from the wound, and I knew I needed to find food soon.
Since I had left my sleeping bag behind, I had no choice but to build a fire for warmth. Luckily, the striker still hung from my pack. I used very little wood and let the fire burn low to avoid attracting attention.
It wasn’t difficult to rouse myself after only a few hours of restless shut-eye. I was too cold and hungry and scared to fall into a deep sleep anyway. I had to force myself to push the thoughts of carriers out of my mind. I had much bigger worries than what they might be up to or why I had survived. They were still somewhere behind me, but I had to keep moving and find food.
Too weak to run, I drank some water and continued at a slow walk through the darkness. The only thing worse than walking in a weak, starved daze the day before was walking through the woods in the dark. My eyes adjusted to the night, but that only made the details I could see in the shadows even more terrifying.
As the sky began to lighten, I prayed I would spot a town that might have an abandoned general store or some place I could steal food. My feet ached from constant movement, my head was strangely fuzzy, and my stomach felt as if it were eating itself from the inside.
I was stumbling more than walking now; I felt almost drunk from the weakness that was cannibalizing my body. Blackness curled at the edges of my vision despite the glow of early sunlight around the changing leaves. It rimmed the trees in a sort of halo. Maybe this was heaven.
Was I dead?
No. Death couldn’t feel this awful — caught between the urge to vomit and a splitting headache. Beads of cold sweat bloomed on my forehead, and as I wiped them away, I had the awful sinking feeling that I was going to pass out.
I knew I wasn’t moving as quietly as I should. Carriers would be able to hear me a mile away if they managed to catch up. Let them get me
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