Read Online The Night Sweeper: Assassin: A Zombie Conspiracy Novel (The Sweeper Chronicles Book 2) by J. Steven Butler - Free Book Online
Authors: J. Steven Butler
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it
out already. What – is – wrong – with – her?" I don’t like it, but he’s
right. Whatever is happening, he really does have the best shot of knowing what
it is and how to fix it.
Damian sighs softly and runs a hand through his graying
hair.
"Mira took extreme damage from the explosion, and
ever since, her body has been working overtime to keep her stable. Anyone else
would have died instantly, but she's managing to survive on damaged organs,
severe muscular trauma – it’s all quite amazing, in truth. Far beyond
what I would have thought possible.” For a moment, his eyes flash with a
sickening pride. “Unfortunately, her system's ability to cope has been overtaxed
for some time. When she went out into the cold, that overtaxed state along with
the metabolic spike that came from her body trying to adjust to the temperature
sent her into what could amount to a short circuit."
I wait with breath held, knowing this isn't going to
end well, and the last of my patience dissipates.
"So help me, if you don't stop playing
games…" I begin. "Tell me the punch line already.”
Damian leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees,
and looks hard at me. For a moment, he almost seems human. Is that genuine
concern in his expression, or cruel pleasure?
"Cray," he says, "Mira is dying."
His words hit me like a bulldozer, and I
react without thinking. In a flash of fear-induced insanity I’m up and on him
lifting him bodily from his chair by his collar. I spin him around and
slam him into one of the floor to ceiling windows. His feet dangle
several inches from the ground, and my face is so close to his I can smell the
coffee on his breath. Far below, several passersby in the clearing look
upwards at us, their faces registering obvious alarm at the sight of me pinning
Damian to the window.
“You're lying,” I growl. “She can’t
be dying! She’s special. She’s too strong for that.” My
breathing is coming in ragged gasps, my head pounding from the
concussion. I realize I’m leaning on him as much to keep my own balance
as to keep him in the air.
Somehow, despite the shock on his face at
my reaction, his voice comes out infuriatingly calm.
“I wish that were true, but despite what
you think of me, son, I assure you I'm speaking the truth. Mira has been
through an unbelievable ordeal, and her body is shutting down.”
In a stupor, I release my grip and stagger
to the side. This time there’s no holding it back, and I half fall over
his desk, puking onto the floor. After my stomach empties, I slump back
into the chair, my head in agony as I try to process what he's telling me.
There’s no doubt Mira's been digressing.
I've watched it with my own eyes. I just didn't think it was this bad.
Damian smooths his ruffled shirt, casting a
mortified look at the puddle of vomit on his carpet, and sits back down, his
eyes fixed on me. “Son...” he starts to say.
“Don't call me that,” I snap.
He pauses, but then continues. “I know you
don't trust me, Cray, and I understand why. There are many things that I want
to tell you, things you need to know, but I don't know if you're ready
for them yet. Not from me. I spent several hours with Mira last night and I
told her everything. It was my desire that she enlighten you. I’m
afraid that will no longer be possible.”
A few weeks ago I would have killed for
more information about Damian and this place. Now, I couldn't care less. The
whole of my consciousness is plagued by the news that Mira is slipping away
from me. Not for the first time, it occurs to me that she's all I have.
“Is there..?”
“Yes,” Damian says, anticipating my question. “I can
fix her.”
I stare into his eyes wanting it to be true. Can it be true? Can I even trust him?
“You...you can keep her from dying?” My desire to
believe it outweighs the deep revulsion I feel for my father, and I find myself
looking to this person I hate as if he's a life raft in the ocean I'm
out already. What – is – wrong – with – her?" I don’t like it, but he’s
right. Whatever is happening, he really does have the best shot of knowing what
it is and how to fix it.
Damian sighs softly and runs a hand through his graying
hair.
"Mira took extreme damage from the explosion, and
ever since, her body has been working overtime to keep her stable. Anyone else
would have died instantly, but she's managing to survive on damaged organs,
severe muscular trauma – it’s all quite amazing, in truth. Far beyond
what I would have thought possible.” For a moment, his eyes flash with a
sickening pride. “Unfortunately, her system's ability to cope has been overtaxed
for some time. When she went out into the cold, that overtaxed state along with
the metabolic spike that came from her body trying to adjust to the temperature
sent her into what could amount to a short circuit."
I wait with breath held, knowing this isn't going to
end well, and the last of my patience dissipates.
"So help me, if you don't stop playing
games…" I begin. "Tell me the punch line already.”
Damian leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees,
and looks hard at me. For a moment, he almost seems human. Is that genuine
concern in his expression, or cruel pleasure?
"Cray," he says, "Mira is dying."
His words hit me like a bulldozer, and I
react without thinking. In a flash of fear-induced insanity I’m up and on him
lifting him bodily from his chair by his collar. I spin him around and
slam him into one of the floor to ceiling windows. His feet dangle
several inches from the ground, and my face is so close to his I can smell the
coffee on his breath. Far below, several passersby in the clearing look
upwards at us, their faces registering obvious alarm at the sight of me pinning
Damian to the window.
“You're lying,” I growl. “She can’t
be dying! She’s special. She’s too strong for that.” My
breathing is coming in ragged gasps, my head pounding from the
concussion. I realize I’m leaning on him as much to keep my own balance
as to keep him in the air.
Somehow, despite the shock on his face at
my reaction, his voice comes out infuriatingly calm.
“I wish that were true, but despite what
you think of me, son, I assure you I'm speaking the truth. Mira has been
through an unbelievable ordeal, and her body is shutting down.”
In a stupor, I release my grip and stagger
to the side. This time there’s no holding it back, and I half fall over
his desk, puking onto the floor. After my stomach empties, I slump back
into the chair, my head in agony as I try to process what he's telling me.
There’s no doubt Mira's been digressing.
I've watched it with my own eyes. I just didn't think it was this bad.
Damian smooths his ruffled shirt, casting a
mortified look at the puddle of vomit on his carpet, and sits back down, his
eyes fixed on me. “Son...” he starts to say.
“Don't call me that,” I snap.
He pauses, but then continues. “I know you
don't trust me, Cray, and I understand why. There are many things that I want
to tell you, things you need to know, but I don't know if you're ready
for them yet. Not from me. I spent several hours with Mira last night and I
told her everything. It was my desire that she enlighten you. I’m
afraid that will no longer be possible.”
A few weeks ago I would have killed for
more information about Damian and this place. Now, I couldn't care less. The
whole of my consciousness is plagued by the news that Mira is slipping away
from me. Not for the first time, it occurs to me that she's all I have.
“Is there..?”
“Yes,” Damian says, anticipating my question. “I can
fix her.”
I stare into his eyes wanting it to be true. Can it be true? Can I even trust him?
“You...you can keep her from dying?” My desire to
believe it outweighs the deep revulsion I feel for my father, and I find myself
looking to this person I hate as if he's a life raft in the ocean I'm
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