Read Online The Risen (Book 2): Margaret by Marie F Crow - Free Book Online
Authors: Marie F Crow
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
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of pain. I am about to discover my answers.
“Margaret?” It is a small voice. An almost whisper with fear holding the volume at bay. My body reacts the way it has become trained to do.
I become immobile, only my eyes roll slowly to the source of the sound, keeping my motions from giving away my intentions. My foot even pauses in mid-step, waiting to see if the sound will repeat itself.
“Margaret?” It comes again, a little bolder this time, lured into the safety net of my inactions. I softly reposition myself to pivot in his direction, stalking the sound of him so that I will be ready for any attempt of escape again. My body pulls into itself, hiding the truth of me and the threat of the danger I present. My hair sways even with the effort of looking harmless, adding its own illusion of safety to my performance.
The brunette, once again, ruins our game. I hear her voice hiss a warning to him. It will pull him from me and I will lose my chance. My body clenches with the anger over her actions and the pain of my hunger. I won’t lose him again, and if she gets in the way, then she too can feed my suffering.
His head turns away as mine turns, too. It is a perfect moment in time for a hunter and its prey, keeping the prey safe and secure in its little trap of peace. He is only a few wide steps from me. I can smell his soft flesh. It floats to me with a trail of mouth-watering aroma blended together with the smell of him and the smell of his clothing. Hunger combats my mind’s calm, rational plan for his murder. It flashes pictures inside my head of how to proceed. It shows me how to obtain my goals and I obey. I have no deeper needs than that.
My fingers tighten and hook into the perfect tearing weapons to shred his flesh. My body becomes motivated and pitches forward, forgetting my unresponsive leg for a brief moment. A moment that motivates her with needs of her own. We are both in a race to reach the boy for different reasons. I want his death. She wants his life. For one to become the winner, the other has to become the loser.
He never saw me. Nor did he feel the mere space of air that my hand missed him, but she did. Her panic is a musky perfume with her smoky under tones. She might not be the seductress she intended, but she seduces my senses all the same. I am so impassioned by her scent, and what it whispers to my tongue, that I do not grow angry when she steals him from me. It only adds to the game now. I originally set out to find him, now my mouth is watering for her.
I do not run after them as I watch her run from me. I smile to the boy that now stares at me over her shoulder, letting him know that I am coming. His wide eyes know that I am coming.
Run if you like, but I am co ming.
She slips rounding the first corner and I know she will not get far.
Run. Run as fast as you can. Tire yourself out. Find a spot to hide, thinking you are safe from me and from your death. My body does not need to rest or recover. I will not grow tired. I will find you. So run, run until your heart gives out, because I am co ming.
CHAPTER 12
I t didn’t take long for the others to catch up to me. The “shadows” crept into the space with silent movements and watching eyes. Their eyes being the only acknowledgment of me with their slow stare and a general assessment of my actions. They are aware that while they hung back for one, I was hunting two. With what part of me accepts as respect, they do not pass my steady pace as they easily could. Instead, we keep the pace of the group with eye contact and silent communication as we continue in our hunt.
The dark part of me that enjoys the sensation of fear in my victims, knows that the same sensation could be used against me if I allow those now crowded around me to sense it. A blank resolve to stay calm settles over me because no one understands the hunt better than the hunters.
Her scent is easy to follow. It is as if it tugs on me to come forward with ghostly fingers,
“Margaret?” It is a small voice. An almost whisper with fear holding the volume at bay. My body reacts the way it has become trained to do.
I become immobile, only my eyes roll slowly to the source of the sound, keeping my motions from giving away my intentions. My foot even pauses in mid-step, waiting to see if the sound will repeat itself.
“Margaret?” It comes again, a little bolder this time, lured into the safety net of my inactions. I softly reposition myself to pivot in his direction, stalking the sound of him so that I will be ready for any attempt of escape again. My body pulls into itself, hiding the truth of me and the threat of the danger I present. My hair sways even with the effort of looking harmless, adding its own illusion of safety to my performance.
The brunette, once again, ruins our game. I hear her voice hiss a warning to him. It will pull him from me and I will lose my chance. My body clenches with the anger over her actions and the pain of my hunger. I won’t lose him again, and if she gets in the way, then she too can feed my suffering.
His head turns away as mine turns, too. It is a perfect moment in time for a hunter and its prey, keeping the prey safe and secure in its little trap of peace. He is only a few wide steps from me. I can smell his soft flesh. It floats to me with a trail of mouth-watering aroma blended together with the smell of him and the smell of his clothing. Hunger combats my mind’s calm, rational plan for his murder. It flashes pictures inside my head of how to proceed. It shows me how to obtain my goals and I obey. I have no deeper needs than that.
My fingers tighten and hook into the perfect tearing weapons to shred his flesh. My body becomes motivated and pitches forward, forgetting my unresponsive leg for a brief moment. A moment that motivates her with needs of her own. We are both in a race to reach the boy for different reasons. I want his death. She wants his life. For one to become the winner, the other has to become the loser.
He never saw me. Nor did he feel the mere space of air that my hand missed him, but she did. Her panic is a musky perfume with her smoky under tones. She might not be the seductress she intended, but she seduces my senses all the same. I am so impassioned by her scent, and what it whispers to my tongue, that I do not grow angry when she steals him from me. It only adds to the game now. I originally set out to find him, now my mouth is watering for her.
I do not run after them as I watch her run from me. I smile to the boy that now stares at me over her shoulder, letting him know that I am coming. His wide eyes know that I am coming.
Run if you like, but I am co ming.
She slips rounding the first corner and I know she will not get far.
Run. Run as fast as you can. Tire yourself out. Find a spot to hide, thinking you are safe from me and from your death. My body does not need to rest or recover. I will not grow tired. I will find you. So run, run until your heart gives out, because I am co ming.
CHAPTER 12
I t didn’t take long for the others to catch up to me. The “shadows” crept into the space with silent movements and watching eyes. Their eyes being the only acknowledgment of me with their slow stare and a general assessment of my actions. They are aware that while they hung back for one, I was hunting two. With what part of me accepts as respect, they do not pass my steady pace as they easily could. Instead, we keep the pace of the group with eye contact and silent communication as we continue in our hunt.
The dark part of me that enjoys the sensation of fear in my victims, knows that the same sensation could be used against me if I allow those now crowded around me to sense it. A blank resolve to stay calm settles over me because no one understands the hunt better than the hunters.
Her scent is easy to follow. It is as if it tugs on me to come forward with ghostly fingers,
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