The Ashes: an Eden prequel Read Online Free Page B
Author: Keary Taylor
looking. It feels safer to sleep with some distance between us.
The sky is just starting to lighten. As much as I don’t dare sleep, I’m exhausted. I’d starved nearly to death for weeks and then had the most intense day I could conceive. My body is shutting down.
I rest my head on my pack, lying in the dirt, and close my eyes.
35°46’23.72”N 81°29’8.14”W
When I wake the sun is high. I can feel it burning my skin. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent any amount of time outside. I sit up gingerly and look at my arms. They’re already a healthy shade of pink.
I pick my pack up and start back toward the SUV. I’m trying to mentally calculate how far back it is to the town to get fuel. Shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes to get there.
I realize I probably should have fueled up when it was still dark. At least the one’s I had run into had been sleeping most of the time. If there are any human tendencies left in them, they may still be more active during the daylight.
There is someone lying face down in the dirt right next to the driver’s side door. I pull out my new handgun and lock it in on the man. I debate with myself for just a moment.
I can shoot him right now.
I can simply walk away.
Or I can confront and investigate.
“Hey,” I say, my voice just loud enough for him to be able to hear me. “You need to get out of here. That vehicle belongs to me.”
The man doesn’t move.
“Something wrong with you?” I say. I take two steps closer. “Hey, can you hear me?”
He still doesn’t stir.
I cross the remaining space between us and kick his foot. He lies still as a fallen tree.
I’m not stupid enough to touch him with my bare hands, so I use my foot and roll him over.
The man must have been living in the wild the last few weeks. His skin is dirty, his hair tangled and filled with broken bits of leaves and twigs. And he looks half-starved. His cheekbones stick out in a gaunt way. His eyes are sunken.
He is definitely dead.
He’d been looking for food, I’m sure of it. I wonder why he didn’t just go inside the SUV. He would have found my box in the back of it if he’d just gone inside and looked. He must have collapsed before he got to that point.
I take a small stick, and with it, peel his eyelids open. The whites are still white, his irises brown. Still human. He hadn’t been infected before he died.
I still don’t want to touch him so I use my boots to push him out of the way of the SUV. I notice a pack ten yards from where he is lying. He must have dropped it.
Robbing the dead isn’t something I’d normally be okay with, but nothing about these past few days has been normal.
The zipper on the pack sticks and it takes me a few good tugs to get it to open. Inside I find a length of rope, a knife, and a thick book. I’m about to leave the book with the tattered pack when I realize what it is.
An atlas.
I take everything he had and put it in the SUV. I say a silent prayer for the man I could have helped if I had just found him a bit sooner, and pull back onto the road.
Re-entering the freeway, I start back toward the town.
I glance down at the gas gage. I’m a bit over a quarter of a tank, but I don’t know how far this mountain range is going to stretch, or if I can count on there being any gas stations on it.
When I look back up I slam on the breaks.
There are at least five of those things walking around on the road about three-quarters of a mile down from where I am. As I watch them a moment longer, I see two more walking up the on-ramp.
They don’t seem to know what they’re doing. They look confused almost. Like they know they’re supposed to be going somewhere or doing something, but they can’t think clearly to figure out what it is. Their movements are jerky, unorganized. But they’re still powerful looking.
Off in the distance I can see more of
The sky is just starting to lighten. As much as I don’t dare sleep, I’m exhausted. I’d starved nearly to death for weeks and then had the most intense day I could conceive. My body is shutting down.
I rest my head on my pack, lying in the dirt, and close my eyes.
35°46’23.72”N 81°29’8.14”W
When I wake the sun is high. I can feel it burning my skin. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent any amount of time outside. I sit up gingerly and look at my arms. They’re already a healthy shade of pink.
I pick my pack up and start back toward the SUV. I’m trying to mentally calculate how far back it is to the town to get fuel. Shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes to get there.
I realize I probably should have fueled up when it was still dark. At least the one’s I had run into had been sleeping most of the time. If there are any human tendencies left in them, they may still be more active during the daylight.
There is someone lying face down in the dirt right next to the driver’s side door. I pull out my new handgun and lock it in on the man. I debate with myself for just a moment.
I can shoot him right now.
I can simply walk away.
Or I can confront and investigate.
“Hey,” I say, my voice just loud enough for him to be able to hear me. “You need to get out of here. That vehicle belongs to me.”
The man doesn’t move.
“Something wrong with you?” I say. I take two steps closer. “Hey, can you hear me?”
He still doesn’t stir.
I cross the remaining space between us and kick his foot. He lies still as a fallen tree.
I’m not stupid enough to touch him with my bare hands, so I use my foot and roll him over.
The man must have been living in the wild the last few weeks. His skin is dirty, his hair tangled and filled with broken bits of leaves and twigs. And he looks half-starved. His cheekbones stick out in a gaunt way. His eyes are sunken.
He is definitely dead.
He’d been looking for food, I’m sure of it. I wonder why he didn’t just go inside the SUV. He would have found my box in the back of it if he’d just gone inside and looked. He must have collapsed before he got to that point.
I take a small stick, and with it, peel his eyelids open. The whites are still white, his irises brown. Still human. He hadn’t been infected before he died.
I still don’t want to touch him so I use my boots to push him out of the way of the SUV. I notice a pack ten yards from where he is lying. He must have dropped it.
Robbing the dead isn’t something I’d normally be okay with, but nothing about these past few days has been normal.
The zipper on the pack sticks and it takes me a few good tugs to get it to open. Inside I find a length of rope, a knife, and a thick book. I’m about to leave the book with the tattered pack when I realize what it is.
An atlas.
I take everything he had and put it in the SUV. I say a silent prayer for the man I could have helped if I had just found him a bit sooner, and pull back onto the road.
Re-entering the freeway, I start back toward the town.
I glance down at the gas gage. I’m a bit over a quarter of a tank, but I don’t know how far this mountain range is going to stretch, or if I can count on there being any gas stations on it.
When I look back up I slam on the breaks.
There are at least five of those things walking around on the road about three-quarters of a mile down from where I am. As I watch them a moment longer, I see two more walking up the on-ramp.
They don’t seem to know what they’re doing. They look confused almost. Like they know they’re supposed to be going somewhere or doing something, but they can’t think clearly to figure out what it is. Their movements are jerky, unorganized. But they’re still powerful looking.
Off in the distance I can see more of
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