Read Online The Risen (Book 2): Margaret by Marie F Crow - Free Book Online Page A

leading me straight to her death. Half of me is elated with how easy this is proving to be. Another half of myself is disappointed in the simple foundation of the game. For it to end in such an uneventful trend, yet again, leaves me feeling robbed of a victory that I do not understand.
    Her scent is hiding behind a metal barrier that blocks our path. An image of what this is flashes in my mind. It’s showing me the function and purpose of it, helping me to comprehend how to defeat her escape. The “shadows” twitch as they stare at it. Their minds formulating a path through it faster than mine.
    It gives easily under the force of their shove, swaying into the room before swaying back to us. A harder shove results in the barrier swinging wider before returning. We smile, grasping the concept and with one more solid shove, the barrier’s secret is removed.
    We pour into the room with eager mouths and deadly thoughts. Her scent wraps around me like the music of a far away ice cream truck, exciting me with her tune, but she only leaves me hungry for more because just like the truck of frozen treats, she is not here. The room is empty, void of her and the melody of comfort.
    Her scent is everywhere. I should be walking around her as if she is the flowers of a blooming garden, filling the air with their fragrance. I can also smell the boy. He is a soft under current of gentle hints and fragile promises. He is here too, somewhere.
    The room is wide and easy to see in every angle. There are no places to hide, keeping them from us. The objects are too tall, or too thin, to shield them from us. No corners to crouch around, peering bravely at us from a hidden shadow of security. Nope, this room is bare and void of our prey. There is just their scent lingering in the air to taunt us and mock our hunger.
    I know this room. I have spent many afternoons huddled around the tall objects placed throughout. Faded sounds of laughter and the loud clattering of plastic trays play through my mind like an old black and white movie. The colors are not the only aspect missing with the facts hidden from me. I know the sound attached to the room though.
    Cafeteria. The sound tells me nothing more than of syllables and lost memories.
    Confusion fades before swelling to anger and then fades back to emptiness with no other action left to me. Remotely, I follow those that resemble my own features in size and shape. I block my thoughts, trying to escape the aching and burning torment that feels to be mutilating my body from within. We shuffle in clumps and lines, keeping to our own, with the hopes of keeping our minds busy on any action that will help distract from the pain. A pain that only seems to crest with each wave of her scent that reaches me before the current pulls me back into its hateful grasp.
    With nothing more to do now than to walk and endure, pictures randomly insert themselves into my vision. The random pictures of smiles and faces that stir a moment of a trickle of remembrance for a time I have forgotten inside me. Moments of emotions associated with such faces whisper to me like an old friend that I should know. Some of the pictures match up, in a small way, to those around me. The whispers tell me that I should I know them. I should know them all, but I don’t, not really.
    There are the sparks and flashes again of attempts for a feeling when I notice one or another, but nothing solid. It is the same again for the others. Our eyes meet, and for a brief pause, there is a second of connection, but in general, it fades and we are left as we are now. We are aware of each other, but unaware of who or what we are. We are nothing more now than hunters. We are monsters that cause screams at our sight. We don’t seek the smiles the pictures flash in my mind’s eyes. We don’t embrace each other with grins and joyful laughter. We walk, or stand, together for protection, not for any building of emotional interactions. We hunt. We eat. We