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

toward my weapon.
    I reach the stall, place one hand on top, and throw myself over the other side of it. I shoulder slam into the ground and try to stop my momentum from knocking over the stand and causing too much more noise. I can hear growls coming from all around me, and I try to slow my breathing and make it as quiet as possible, hiding under the stall—almost mimicking my previous position.
    Reaching my hand around the ground, I feel numerous bows and I carefully pull one to me. It feels good in my hand—strong—even though I know it’s probably made of cheap wood. I know it will fire if I need it to. With my other hand, I root across the dark ground, feeling for arrows, finding several in a box. The points are pretty blunt, but hopefully with enough power behind them they can still do some good.
    I look around me in the darkness for something I can use to carry the arrows, but it’s too dark, and I don’t dare get my iPhone out to use the built-in flashlight. I shuffle out from under the stall when my breathing has returned to normal and I don’t hear any movement close by. The cop car’s blue light reflects off the back of the stall, and I can see a small brown backpack, which would be perfect to carry the arrows, hanging near a coat.
    I peek over the top of the stall, my blood freezing in my veins when I see a dark shadow lurch from around the police car. In the flash of blue it’s clear that this man is missing most of his face. I gasp involuntarily and he pauses mid-lurch, lifting his nose in the air before finally turning in my direction with a low growl.
    “Shit,” I mumble. I glance back at the bag, knowing that if I stand up and make a grab for it, I’ll be giving away my position. But what choice do I have? I can’t carry around a handful of arrows, and I need to find Daryl and Brown Eyes quickly.
    A long, piercing scream makes up my mind and I abruptly stand and grab the backpack off the hook. It snags on something on the wall, and for a few precious seconds I don’t think it’s going to come free. When it does, I’m pulling so hard that I collapse backwards into the stand and knock a ton of things over. The faceless man growls louder, his growl joined by several more, each echoing around me. I grab handfuls of arrows and thrust them into the bag before throwing it over my shoulders and sliding it onto my back as I start to run.
    The faceless man is nearly upon me by the time I climb over the other side.
    But I’m not worried about him anymore.
    I’m worried about the other ten or so monsters that have come out from wherever they were hiding—each one a new horror to see.
    Another long, piercing scream sounds out, and I throw caution to the wind and run in the direction of it, dodging reaching arms and bodies that try to stop me as rotten smells invade my senses and make my eyes water.
    I run, passing several dead bodies that litter the ground that I try not to look at too closely, past blood-smeared stalls and overturned food carts, until I come to the House of Glass—the place the screaming is coming from.
     

Six.
     
    Bodies surround the place, both dead and alive—well, sort of alive—and I’m about to go in search of my friends somewhere else when I hear Daryl’s loud ass shouting. Another scream and I’m almost certain that they are both inside the House of Glass. A noise behind me makes me turn just in time to see long, gangly arms reaching for me, and I duck and run to the entrance.
    I slam into the doorway, skidding to a halt as my eyes adjust to the dimness inside. I take a breath and try to ignore the pounding of my brain as a migraine begins to throb behind my eyes. My hand still clutches onto the bow, but in here it won’t be any good: there’s not enough space to be able to shoot it properly. I pull an arrow out of the backpack, feeling the point and knowing it’s not really sharp enough for what I want—not unless I put a helluva lot of strength behind it. Passing