Read Online Wake Up Dead - an Undead Anthology by Adam Millard, Guy James, Suzanne Robb, Chantal Boudreau, Mia Darien, Douglas Vance Castagna, Rebecca Snow, Caitlin Gunn, R.d Teun - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Adam Millard, Guy James, Suzanne Robb, Chantal Boudreau, Mia Darien, Douglas Vance Castagna, Rebecca Snow, Caitlin Gunn, R.d Teun
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would be never-ending.
He began to choke violently and coughed up bits of yellow and green phlegm. His mouth was filled with the taste of rotten eggs, as he tried to repress a second choking fit.
Examining his body as he dressed, he failed to notice that the sores were spreading. The collar of his shirt no longer hid the open sores that were growing up his neck and onto his face. Nor did his sleeves hide the sores on his hands.
A mortal would have died five times over. He'd never been able to imagine the pain that they felt. The ones who suffered with it now should think themselves lucky to die, go so quickly. His pain was far greater than theirs, and he did not have the endless sleep they were finally blessed with.
Suddenly, he doubled over with a stabbing pain in his stomach. The hunger was back and needed to be satisfied. Last night, he'd feasted on the blood of an alley cat. It was too bitter and too little for him. He hadn't had human blood in months and craved it more than anything now.
In his condition, people walked away from him. They even chased him. He thought of the times when he could charm anyone. They would be in his power and beg him to do his bidding. That was a lifetime ago. He'd begun to lose most of his charismatic charms back in the late eighties, when he no longer was able to hide the symptoms.
He needed some air so he pulled the duct tape off the black window shades and opened the window.
Leaning against the window sill of his motel room, he looked out. The pink neon of the Vacancy sign was a beacon of Judgement Day to him.
The end of the Millennium was months away he thought. Half the country was infected and dying or already dead. The other half was fighting over what would be left when the afflicted all had died. When the button is pushed I'll still be here, being eaten away from the inside.
He began to laugh, as tears ran down his face. Now I'm going crazy, he thought.
Another sharp pain stabbed at his stomach. He needed sustenance, and it had to be from a human tonight.
He put on his tattered coat and limped to the door.
The weather was cold, and he felt the chill deep in his bones. He remembered one winter he'd spent in Maine. It had been at least ten below zero, and he'd gone out to feed in a jogging suit. Climate had never bothered him. Now everything did.
Looking the way he did, and the condition he was in, he could not get into any bars or clubs. Instead, he searched the alleyways for a sleeping drunk or a homeless person. They were easy enough to find.
Not long after he'd begun his search, he found his prey. An old man with a yellowed beard, reeking from Ripple and urine, was sleeping in a doorway of an apartment house.
The wino had on tattered layers of rotted, filthy clothes. Bits of newspaper peeked out through the many holes in his outfit.
The heat was on high in the building, and the man was lucky enough to get this spot where he could keep warm.
Randy knelt besides him. "I am truly sorry my friend."
The Vampire was about to sink his rotted teeth into the man's exposed throat when a bottle crashed against his skull.
"Get the hell away from me! This is my spot. Get away. Find your own place to sleep!"
Randy was already running down the block when the wino started shouting. After running only a half a block he was winded. He paused to compose himself and then continued up the avenue.
The streets seemed deserted to him. Walking along the silent streets, he noticed that nothing stirred except for the steam rising from the sidewalk grates. He felt somewhat powerful. It was as though the people of the city knew that Randolph Blazedale roamed the streets once again. He fancied them cowering in their
homes behind barricaded doors. There was a time that he could have had that effect on any city. Now he couldn't even feed on a drunk.
He was beginning to feel sorry for himself again when he saw an unaccompanied woman crossing the street along the deserted avenue.
He rushed to
He began to choke violently and coughed up bits of yellow and green phlegm. His mouth was filled with the taste of rotten eggs, as he tried to repress a second choking fit.
Examining his body as he dressed, he failed to notice that the sores were spreading. The collar of his shirt no longer hid the open sores that were growing up his neck and onto his face. Nor did his sleeves hide the sores on his hands.
A mortal would have died five times over. He'd never been able to imagine the pain that they felt. The ones who suffered with it now should think themselves lucky to die, go so quickly. His pain was far greater than theirs, and he did not have the endless sleep they were finally blessed with.
Suddenly, he doubled over with a stabbing pain in his stomach. The hunger was back and needed to be satisfied. Last night, he'd feasted on the blood of an alley cat. It was too bitter and too little for him. He hadn't had human blood in months and craved it more than anything now.
In his condition, people walked away from him. They even chased him. He thought of the times when he could charm anyone. They would be in his power and beg him to do his bidding. That was a lifetime ago. He'd begun to lose most of his charismatic charms back in the late eighties, when he no longer was able to hide the symptoms.
He needed some air so he pulled the duct tape off the black window shades and opened the window.
Leaning against the window sill of his motel room, he looked out. The pink neon of the Vacancy sign was a beacon of Judgement Day to him.
The end of the Millennium was months away he thought. Half the country was infected and dying or already dead. The other half was fighting over what would be left when the afflicted all had died. When the button is pushed I'll still be here, being eaten away from the inside.
He began to laugh, as tears ran down his face. Now I'm going crazy, he thought.
Another sharp pain stabbed at his stomach. He needed sustenance, and it had to be from a human tonight.
He put on his tattered coat and limped to the door.
The weather was cold, and he felt the chill deep in his bones. He remembered one winter he'd spent in Maine. It had been at least ten below zero, and he'd gone out to feed in a jogging suit. Climate had never bothered him. Now everything did.
Looking the way he did, and the condition he was in, he could not get into any bars or clubs. Instead, he searched the alleyways for a sleeping drunk or a homeless person. They were easy enough to find.
Not long after he'd begun his search, he found his prey. An old man with a yellowed beard, reeking from Ripple and urine, was sleeping in a doorway of an apartment house.
The wino had on tattered layers of rotted, filthy clothes. Bits of newspaper peeked out through the many holes in his outfit.
The heat was on high in the building, and the man was lucky enough to get this spot where he could keep warm.
Randy knelt besides him. "I am truly sorry my friend."
The Vampire was about to sink his rotted teeth into the man's exposed throat when a bottle crashed against his skull.
"Get the hell away from me! This is my spot. Get away. Find your own place to sleep!"
Randy was already running down the block when the wino started shouting. After running only a half a block he was winded. He paused to compose himself and then continued up the avenue.
The streets seemed deserted to him. Walking along the silent streets, he noticed that nothing stirred except for the steam rising from the sidewalk grates. He felt somewhat powerful. It was as though the people of the city knew that Randolph Blazedale roamed the streets once again. He fancied them cowering in their
homes behind barricaded doors. There was a time that he could have had that effect on any city. Now he couldn't even feed on a drunk.
He was beginning to feel sorry for himself again when he saw an unaccompanied woman crossing the street along the deserted avenue.
He rushed to
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