Broken Mirror: Apophis 2029 Read Online Free
Author: Michel Savage
willing to pull the trigger out of fear. The world had gone insane ...not that our species hadn't been all along.
Rain had begun to pelt the dirty glass of the window panes as I continued my exploration of the house, at least it would be a test if the roof would hold its own and keep me dry until morning. The first rule of surviving on your own is to scout out an entire building to make sure it was safe to be in. Unfortunately, near the end of the hall I stumbled across a dark stairwell and vented an audible sigh of regret upon finding it.
"Well, shit," I whispered out loud to myself in hesitation, knowing I had to investigate, though I really didn't want to.
It's not that I was afraid of the dark, but I spared no personal love for cellars since they most always had merely one point of entry or exit. For a brief moment I juggled the thought of sleeping in the barn outside instead, but by the condition I had seen of the rotting exterior and gaping holes in its roof, there was no way I was going to spend a dry moment out there in this storm. Beside s the fact that one of its large doors was hanging askew from its frame with no means to secure it.
I set my flashlight on to its brightest setting and descended into the gloom below as the tattered floorboards creaking under the weight of each step. I spied odd ends of furniture and broken boxes were tossed about as if a whirlwind had passed through the room. The cellar was unusual, as its dimensions extended beyond the footprint of the foundation of the house above; appearing to be nearly twice as large. Most likely it doubled as someone's bug-out shelter back in the day and had been raided at some point by scavengers moving through the countryside. Still, I had to investigate to see if it was safe and in the remote chance I might something of practical use had been left behind; a coil of rope or can of fuel; pretty much anything l that could come in handy for bartering.
It was when I turned the edge of the stairwell at the bottom landing when my heart stopped. I was used to seeing dead bodies, but what I saw before me put me in shock. In the narrow light from the lamp my eyes pieced together the image of desiccated human arms and legs that intertwined in a layer of filth. As hardened as I was to such scenes, I still jumped when I saw a leg twitch, then an arm, and the huddled pile of Weeper's slowly began to stir. One after another, they wriggled up from the tangled mass to shade their bloodshot eyes from the glare of my light. One of them hissed in annoyance as glared into the blinding light just as their putrid stench hit me like a brick wall. Lying their there coiled in their own feces, more than a dozen infected began to shamble to their feet. Flying up the stairs, I ran faster than I ever had in my life.
All of which events happened nearly an hour ago since I had disturbed the nest of weepers which had chased me relentlessly through the wet forest. Most of the time the duck and hide techniques are efficient enough when trying to escape their pursuit, but from the gaunt looks of this hive, it was rabid hunger kept them lingering on my trail. No matter how much ground I gained, they would not give up. I assumed I had lost most of them among the thick layer of tress and rocky terrain, but there were still two or three I couldn't seem to shake.
It was by sheer luck that I had stumbled upon this collapsed office building; and realized I might a better chance of finding a way to barricade myself in, rather than running blind through the sheets of rain during a violent electrical storm on open ground. That is when I dove behind a massive broken pillar for a spare moment to catch my breath, shivering from the cold. As I huddled there in exhaustion, I peered across from me to notice an old oil painting of a merchant ship by an ocean dock with three girls standing near a grassy shore; the damaged canvas sitting
Rain had begun to pelt the dirty glass of the window panes as I continued my exploration of the house, at least it would be a test if the roof would hold its own and keep me dry until morning. The first rule of surviving on your own is to scout out an entire building to make sure it was safe to be in. Unfortunately, near the end of the hall I stumbled across a dark stairwell and vented an audible sigh of regret upon finding it.
"Well, shit," I whispered out loud to myself in hesitation, knowing I had to investigate, though I really didn't want to.
It's not that I was afraid of the dark, but I spared no personal love for cellars since they most always had merely one point of entry or exit. For a brief moment I juggled the thought of sleeping in the barn outside instead, but by the condition I had seen of the rotting exterior and gaping holes in its roof, there was no way I was going to spend a dry moment out there in this storm. Beside s the fact that one of its large doors was hanging askew from its frame with no means to secure it.
I set my flashlight on to its brightest setting and descended into the gloom below as the tattered floorboards creaking under the weight of each step. I spied odd ends of furniture and broken boxes were tossed about as if a whirlwind had passed through the room. The cellar was unusual, as its dimensions extended beyond the footprint of the foundation of the house above; appearing to be nearly twice as large. Most likely it doubled as someone's bug-out shelter back in the day and had been raided at some point by scavengers moving through the countryside. Still, I had to investigate to see if it was safe and in the remote chance I might something of practical use had been left behind; a coil of rope or can of fuel; pretty much anything l that could come in handy for bartering.
It was when I turned the edge of the stairwell at the bottom landing when my heart stopped. I was used to seeing dead bodies, but what I saw before me put me in shock. In the narrow light from the lamp my eyes pieced together the image of desiccated human arms and legs that intertwined in a layer of filth. As hardened as I was to such scenes, I still jumped when I saw a leg twitch, then an arm, and the huddled pile of Weeper's slowly began to stir. One after another, they wriggled up from the tangled mass to shade their bloodshot eyes from the glare of my light. One of them hissed in annoyance as glared into the blinding light just as their putrid stench hit me like a brick wall. Lying their there coiled in their own feces, more than a dozen infected began to shamble to their feet. Flying up the stairs, I ran faster than I ever had in my life.
All of which events happened nearly an hour ago since I had disturbed the nest of weepers which had chased me relentlessly through the wet forest. Most of the time the duck and hide techniques are efficient enough when trying to escape their pursuit, but from the gaunt looks of this hive, it was rabid hunger kept them lingering on my trail. No matter how much ground I gained, they would not give up. I assumed I had lost most of them among the thick layer of tress and rocky terrain, but there were still two or three I couldn't seem to shake.
It was by sheer luck that I had stumbled upon this collapsed office building; and realized I might a better chance of finding a way to barricade myself in, rather than running blind through the sheets of rain during a violent electrical storm on open ground. That is when I dove behind a massive broken pillar for a spare moment to catch my breath, shivering from the cold. As I huddled there in exhaustion, I peered across from me to notice an old oil painting of a merchant ship by an ocean dock with three girls standing near a grassy shore; the damaged canvas sitting
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