Read Online The Screaming (Book 1): Dead City by Matthew Warwick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Matthew Warwick
Tags: Zombies
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across the floor, with a large bright red mass of unrecognisable flesh and bone discarded in the centre. A faint ferrous odour hung in the stale air.
Only one of the creatures now remained. Squatting over the remnants of the teenagers, frantically picking minuscule segments of tendon from bone.
“Oh shit, no.” It was the old teacher.
The once valiant defender, now battered and torn, resorting to picking at the leftovers that were once his class. Despair filled Zac as he pondered the power of something that could turn a warm hearted, caring man, willing to sacrifice himself to protect others, into a flesh hungry cannibal in a matter of minutes. Zac couldn’t help but think of how his mother’s mind had slowly degraded, leaving an unrecognisable shell. Warm saliva filled his mouth as the comparison sickened him. He hated himself for allowing his mother into the same trail of thought as these creatures. Sick filled his mouth until it filled beyond capacity and the partially digested Coco-pops he had scoffed before leaving home that morning, gushed down his t-shirt.
He refocused on the here and now and looked across at the teacher again. His anguish deepened as he realised that the old man knew of his hiding place. Though, at the moment, he seemed somewhat content by the scraps at his feet. Or simply the traumatic transformation into blood thirsty monster had caused some degree of brain damage. Regardless, Zac knew he needed to get out.
He slowly started to edge himself out, each inch left an echoing scrape as he pushed his wedged backpack through the tight gap. He froze as the old teacher paused to sniff the air and look over his shoulder towards the cage, before sinking his face back into the mass of slops. Zac fed his backpack out and placed it on the floor, then slid himself out of the gap, scooted down the steps and back onto the hard core, before ducking behind the lip of the platforms edge. He waited for the sound of screams or heavy footsteps, convinced he must have been seen.
Nothing. He looked himself over to find a fine vail of cobweb coating his clothing, with dust matted Coco-pops clinging to his chest. He wiped his face down with his hands and quietly brushed himself off, pausing briefly as he realised just how much his hands were shaking. He clenched his fists and wiggled his fingers before turning his attention to his next move. He studied the platform on the opposite side of the tracks. It was a mirror image of the slaughter filled platform Zac cowered against. It had the same long concrete surface, with pillars supporting a low ceiling of artificial lights. It also had a large concrete staircase leading topside.
No sign of any movement along it. Zac decided the stairs were his best chance of escape. He needed fresh air. The stale, claustrophobic tunnels were stifling and Zac’s desperation was building. He needed to get out and find help. He looked across at the old teacher. He was now stood, bimbling around the remains of his class, scanning their corpses for remnants of flesh. He was clearly distracted, but Zac had to be quick before the old man started looking further afield for his next meal.
Zac placed his backpack over both his shoulders and pulled the straps tight. He took one last sympathetic glimpse at the old man, which doubled as a check to ensure he was still distracted. The old teacher was bent over, tugging at a clump of long blonde hair attached to a cluster of red bone. His back to Zac. This was his chance. Zac stood up and stooped across the rails, trying his best to avoid the noisy hard core, and the live rail in the middle. He reached the other platform edge in seconds and rolled onto the cold concrete floor. He paused laying on his belly as he scanned for movement. The old man was still
Only one of the creatures now remained. Squatting over the remnants of the teenagers, frantically picking minuscule segments of tendon from bone.
“Oh shit, no.” It was the old teacher.
The once valiant defender, now battered and torn, resorting to picking at the leftovers that were once his class. Despair filled Zac as he pondered the power of something that could turn a warm hearted, caring man, willing to sacrifice himself to protect others, into a flesh hungry cannibal in a matter of minutes. Zac couldn’t help but think of how his mother’s mind had slowly degraded, leaving an unrecognisable shell. Warm saliva filled his mouth as the comparison sickened him. He hated himself for allowing his mother into the same trail of thought as these creatures. Sick filled his mouth until it filled beyond capacity and the partially digested Coco-pops he had scoffed before leaving home that morning, gushed down his t-shirt.
He refocused on the here and now and looked across at the teacher again. His anguish deepened as he realised that the old man knew of his hiding place. Though, at the moment, he seemed somewhat content by the scraps at his feet. Or simply the traumatic transformation into blood thirsty monster had caused some degree of brain damage. Regardless, Zac knew he needed to get out.
He slowly started to edge himself out, each inch left an echoing scrape as he pushed his wedged backpack through the tight gap. He froze as the old teacher paused to sniff the air and look over his shoulder towards the cage, before sinking his face back into the mass of slops. Zac fed his backpack out and placed it on the floor, then slid himself out of the gap, scooted down the steps and back onto the hard core, before ducking behind the lip of the platforms edge. He waited for the sound of screams or heavy footsteps, convinced he must have been seen.
Nothing. He looked himself over to find a fine vail of cobweb coating his clothing, with dust matted Coco-pops clinging to his chest. He wiped his face down with his hands and quietly brushed himself off, pausing briefly as he realised just how much his hands were shaking. He clenched his fists and wiggled his fingers before turning his attention to his next move. He studied the platform on the opposite side of the tracks. It was a mirror image of the slaughter filled platform Zac cowered against. It had the same long concrete surface, with pillars supporting a low ceiling of artificial lights. It also had a large concrete staircase leading topside.
No sign of any movement along it. Zac decided the stairs were his best chance of escape. He needed fresh air. The stale, claustrophobic tunnels were stifling and Zac’s desperation was building. He needed to get out and find help. He looked across at the old teacher. He was now stood, bimbling around the remains of his class, scanning their corpses for remnants of flesh. He was clearly distracted, but Zac had to be quick before the old man started looking further afield for his next meal.
Zac placed his backpack over both his shoulders and pulled the straps tight. He took one last sympathetic glimpse at the old man, which doubled as a check to ensure he was still distracted. The old teacher was bent over, tugging at a clump of long blonde hair attached to a cluster of red bone. His back to Zac. This was his chance. Zac stood up and stooped across the rails, trying his best to avoid the noisy hard core, and the live rail in the middle. He reached the other platform edge in seconds and rolled onto the cold concrete floor. He paused laying on his belly as he scanned for movement. The old man was still
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