Read Online Threnody (Book 1) by Kirk Withrow - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kirk Withrow
Tags: Zombies
Ads: Link
running while he was refueling. To his horror, he soon realized that what he stumbled over was not a fuel line, but rather the lifeless, decapitated, and otherwise unidentifiable form of another human being. The body, previously obscured from his vision by the bulk of the twin-engine aircraft, also bore the unmistakable markings of a propeller injury. Where the head should be a deep gash was cut between the shoulder blades and the sternum. Had this poor soul wandered into Hasker’s prop only to be followed by Hasker himself as he tried to save the person?
Though John recovered without falling, the impediment proved just enough to allow Hasker to gain a few steps on him. Again, he reached for him, but this time John got the distinct and unsettling impression that he lunged for him rather than merely stumbled toward him. Clearly unaccustomed to his new bodily condition, Hasker’s attempt to grab John fell short, but in a slow instant he redirected his effort and was back in pursuit. John noted that Hasker’s movements, while persistent, were far from fluid. It was as if each subsequent movement was flawed from the start by the slight overshoot or other subtle inaccuracy of the preceding action. It reminded John of a gear continuously turning but occasionally slipping due to a damaged tooth, like so many patients he had seen with ataxia secondary to a damaged cerebellum.
The barrage of impossible details seemed to hit John all at once, ensnaring him like a fish helplessly caught in a net. While he knew he did not want to be there, he felt powerless to extricate himself from the situation. By now, old man Hasker was within a few feet and steadily closing the gap with each redirected movement. With what remained of his arms still outstretched, Hasker’s left hand grasped John’s jacket as the stump of his right arm tried in vain to complete the embrace.
At that moment – whether as a defense mechanism or some other psychological phenomenon – the main question going through John’s mind was why the man’s clearly severed right brachial artery was not spraying blood all over the place. Hasker pulled his head in close to John, his mouth working as though he was trying to tell him something over the roar of the engines. Intense pain erupted from John’s right arm, searing up his arm and through his spine like electrons racing through a power line. As bad as it was, the flurry of motion that followed shattered all thoughts of the pain as blood – or what he thought was blood – sprayed everywhere.
Though the twin engines still thundered nearby, John heard the unmistakable grunts of a struggle all around him. Suddenly, Hasker’s head seemed to deflate slightly as his neck craned unnaturally to the side. A dark blur arced through the air at high speed along a trajectory that carried it directly into Hasker’s skull, flattening it even further with a sickening, wet thud. Hasker’s left hand instantly fell away from John’s jacket as the old man crumpled to the ground in a motionless heap.
In a state of shocked disbelief, John looked up from the lifeless form of old man Hasker, and his eyes locked on the object that had been a frightening and deadly blur only moments ago. A two and a half foot piece of heavy, one-inch, blood-soaked steel pipe rested comfortably in the hands of an enormous, heaving man wearing equally blood-soaked mechanic’s coveralls. Were it not for the fact that he just saw torrents of blood flying about under the big man’s barrage, John thought it would be hard to tell it was blood rather than grease or oil.
John realized the hulk of a man standing before him was the same man who was frantically signaling him from the base of the tower. “Sorry about your arm,” the man yelled, as he climbed into the Baron to shut down its two massive engines. The twin propellers whirred evermore slowly with the loss of power, and John found himself entranced by their
Though John recovered without falling, the impediment proved just enough to allow Hasker to gain a few steps on him. Again, he reached for him, but this time John got the distinct and unsettling impression that he lunged for him rather than merely stumbled toward him. Clearly unaccustomed to his new bodily condition, Hasker’s attempt to grab John fell short, but in a slow instant he redirected his effort and was back in pursuit. John noted that Hasker’s movements, while persistent, were far from fluid. It was as if each subsequent movement was flawed from the start by the slight overshoot or other subtle inaccuracy of the preceding action. It reminded John of a gear continuously turning but occasionally slipping due to a damaged tooth, like so many patients he had seen with ataxia secondary to a damaged cerebellum.
The barrage of impossible details seemed to hit John all at once, ensnaring him like a fish helplessly caught in a net. While he knew he did not want to be there, he felt powerless to extricate himself from the situation. By now, old man Hasker was within a few feet and steadily closing the gap with each redirected movement. With what remained of his arms still outstretched, Hasker’s left hand grasped John’s jacket as the stump of his right arm tried in vain to complete the embrace.
At that moment – whether as a defense mechanism or some other psychological phenomenon – the main question going through John’s mind was why the man’s clearly severed right brachial artery was not spraying blood all over the place. Hasker pulled his head in close to John, his mouth working as though he was trying to tell him something over the roar of the engines. Intense pain erupted from John’s right arm, searing up his arm and through his spine like electrons racing through a power line. As bad as it was, the flurry of motion that followed shattered all thoughts of the pain as blood – or what he thought was blood – sprayed everywhere.
Though the twin engines still thundered nearby, John heard the unmistakable grunts of a struggle all around him. Suddenly, Hasker’s head seemed to deflate slightly as his neck craned unnaturally to the side. A dark blur arced through the air at high speed along a trajectory that carried it directly into Hasker’s skull, flattening it even further with a sickening, wet thud. Hasker’s left hand instantly fell away from John’s jacket as the old man crumpled to the ground in a motionless heap.
In a state of shocked disbelief, John looked up from the lifeless form of old man Hasker, and his eyes locked on the object that had been a frightening and deadly blur only moments ago. A two and a half foot piece of heavy, one-inch, blood-soaked steel pipe rested comfortably in the hands of an enormous, heaving man wearing equally blood-soaked mechanic’s coveralls. Were it not for the fact that he just saw torrents of blood flying about under the big man’s barrage, John thought it would be hard to tell it was blood rather than grease or oil.
John realized the hulk of a man standing before him was the same man who was frantically signaling him from the base of the tower. “Sorry about your arm,” the man yelled, as he climbed into the Baron to shut down its two massive engines. The twin propellers whirred evermore slowly with the loss of power, and John found himself entranced by their
Similar Books
