The Creepers Read Online Free Page B

roof.
    Medical helicopters transported the
wounded out of the city, but as another week drifted away so, too, did the
medical evacuations. They were all alone and losing ground day by day. The
limbs were piled six feet high on the roofs, but even in the face of death the
newly limbless fought hard, raining fire on the growing hordes from the
windows.
    Shortly after losing the lower levels of
the building,all radio contact with the outside
went dark. New York had fallen. There would be no reinforcements. It was then,
faced with the inevitability of death and worse, the soldiers resorted to
insane tactics. They used the rotting limbs of the wounded to buy time. Tears
in their eyes,the soldiers threw the limbs onto
the streets below. In their hearts they knew it was a futile effort at best,
but if it bought them just a few hours of precious life then it was worth it.
The Creepers’ hunger is an endless thing, and the limbs, mere snacks to them. Like
so many strongholds of humanity,Newark was laid
to waste, bolstering the ranks of the army of the dead.
    “Bobby, snap out of it.”
    Bobby blinked the blurriness from his
eyes. The memory of the story dispelled by the cold night air and Ryan’s
snapping fingers.
    “I did it again?”
    “Yeah, it’s so cold." Ryan’s face
was as pale as clean hospital linen, his thin blue lips—a doctor’s errant pen
stroke. He cradled his injured arm in his lap.
    Ryan had, at best, a day of pain-filled
humanity left.
    But how long did he have left? Bobby’s
wound wasn’t deep, and his t-shirt alone stopped the tiny trickle of blood, but
it was enough. The Creeper broke skin. That’s all it took for the Fection to
spread. Spit mixed with blood and his heart did the rest, pumping the disease
through his veins slowly over a twenty four hour period. The thing was,he didn’t know where in that day-long period his
final heartbeat would come, orif he’d be one of
the exceptions to the rule. He could be one of the unlucky bastards that got
bit and languished for days before turning.
    Should he tell Ryan? Did Ryan see? No,
he would’ve said something. Bobby had experienced many fears over his thirteen
winters, but never had he become the victim of finality. Life as he knew it was
over.
    “Bobby, I’m sorry.”
    Bobby sat next to Ryan and put his arm
around him. Even though it was cold,Ryan was
extremely hot. Bobby never forgot a lesson, and he knew the fever was the
body’s poor defensive first strike at the Fection. “Don’t be. You did well.”
    Ryan laughed. His teeth began to
chatter. “Ga-ga-got ten of ’em, Bobby boy, bet your ass I did.”
    “Shit yeah.”
    “Se-se-se-see, feels good doesn’t it?”
    He had to admit, it did feel good.
Letting one fly was liberating. The moment brought a brief respite from the
growing dread. Bobby had to get help. But the more he tried to will his legs
into action,the more he wondered…  Why?
Why bother?
    Something moved on the road. The kick of
a rock;was that dragging feet? A shuffle?
Bobby’s legs unfroze and he whipped the little flashlight around pointing it up
the road. The thick night swallowed it. Another shuffle, dragging feet, hidden
by the dark.
    “What is it, Bobby?” Ryan whispered. The
carbine shook in his good hand. He tried to steady it but it wobbled, up, down,
drifted, pointing into the blackness.
    “I hear something, it’s close. Maybe ten
yards up the bend in the road,” Bobby whispered back. He’d lost the revolver in
the blast and opted for Ryan’s knife instead. He swept the light across the
road and crept forward.
    “S-s-s-stay la-la-low." Ryan was
overcome by another bout of shivers. “I-I’ll ca-cover you.”
    Bobby kept his eyes forward. “Can you
keep her steady?”
    With a sharp intake of breath Ryan said,
“I won’t miss.”
    Knife out to his right, Bobby zigzagged his
way up the road. The swaying branches played tricks on his senses, but he had a
good idea of the general location of the noise.