The Dead Saga (Novella Part 2): Odium Origins Read Online Free Page A

either running or fighting.”
    As we pass the shooting stall, I realize how unarmed I am. Daryl has his shitty piece of wood, but I’ve got nothing. “I need to be armed. I need…I dunno, something.”
    Daryl grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me to a stop. He nods to the pellet guns on the rack—the ones I had earlier used to win Brown Eyes her pink teddy. I shrug: a pellet gun is better than nothing, I guess, and if nothing else I can smack someone with it.
    “Hey?” I whisper to Brown Eyes.
    She stops and looks back at me, her eyes wide and frightened but her jaw strong and determined.
    “Let me grab a gun.”
    Her eyes go even wider upon hearing my words, but she nods an okay and I climb up onto the stand and jump down the other side before she can say anything else. There are lots of guns, but they’re all chained to the stand, so I rummage around underneath the counter to try and find a spare but still come up blank. When I stand back up, Daryl and Brown Eyes are nowhere to be seen.
    “Daryl?” I whisper-shout. I lean over the stall and look around. I can see someone in the distance, but nothing and no one close by. “Daryl?” I shout-whisper again, my words dying out as the fairground music stops abruptly. Seconds later the lights go out and the entire fairground is plunged into darkness.
    “Shit,” I whisper.
    I look around, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, my senses becoming more aware of everything and nothing all at the same time. The only lights are the ones still coming from the top of the patrol car, which continue to flash on and off as if the fair is still going.
    A growl to my left makes me pull my head back inside the stall, and before I even know I’m doing it, I crouch down under the counter, blending my body into the darker shadows. Minutes go by before I hear someone—or something—getting closer, and I nearly stand up to see if it’s Daryl. It’s the smell that hits me first and makes me know it isn’t him. Sure, the guy has been known to stink on occasion—doesn’t every guy?—but this is unlike anything I’ve ever smelled before. I gag on the taste of it in my mouth, the smell making me retch. I shake my head to clear the stench from my nose, and try to man up to it all, a grimace covering my face as I thankfully hear the steps receding.
    I wait another minute before slowly extracting myself from my hiding position, peeking up over the top of the stall. It’s gotten even darker, but thankfully the police lights are illuminating enough for me to see that my way is clear. It also shows me that on the other side of the fair is another shooting stand, but this one is bows and arrows. I don’t know where Daryl and Brown Eyes have gone, but I need to get one of those bows and some arrows, no matter how cheap they seem: it’s better than nothing, and I’m a damn good shot with an arrow.
    I stand fully up, preparing to climb back over the stall and head over to grab my bounty, but my foot slips on one of the metal chains holding the crappy guns to the table and I trip, grabbing the table behind me for balance. I breathe a sigh of relief just in time for nine glass bottles to clatter and fall from their stand. I wince and pray that the sound just seems incredibly loud to me, but when a low chorus of moans and growls echoes around the fairground, I know I don’t have much time.
    I dive over the stall and run as fast as I can, my sneakers digging into the hard summer ground and sending up dust behind me. I leave behind the sound of moans and the clatter of bottles and cheap guns falling and grit my teeth as I push harder and faster to get to the bows and arrows. Shadows move around me, and as I focus on one, more appear. My stomach lurches of its own accord, giving me the impression that now would be a perfectly normal time to freak the hell out—if not wholly inconvenient. The thought of Brown Eyes and my best friend needing my help keeps me strong and moving forward,