The October Light of August Read Online Free

loss (or choking on it!), then he was infected and the fever would take him in a short time – days, or within a day – there never seemed to be a fixed time frame for it. So he was dangerous until the fever made him incapacitated. I wasn't sure the guy even knew he'd been attacked from both sides. It had all happened so quickly.
    A hollow boom rumbled from the dumpster, and I saw that the warrior was now on his feet, on the far side of the metal container. I could see a raised hand – the uninjured one – shaking, either in pain or rage. Then the man stepped into view, pushing off the dumpster and again creating another miniature sound of thunder. His injured hand jammed against his neck, the man started gagging and hacking again. As he took another step towards the office building, he arched his back and his good hand shot around and down to rub futilely at the pain there.
    I wish I could say I'm sorry dude . But you came to my little patch of paradise and were looking to stir things up.
    The man continued to jerk across the parking lot. He seemed to be trying to walk on his tip-toes, as if he could somehow defy gravity and walk on air. I almost expected to see him begin to float up above the pavement, his tattooed calf muscle flexing to find leverage in the chill autumn air. Perhaps he thought if he could just get airborne the pain would ease in his back. And neck. And hand.
    You need to put him down, I thought.
    But I was afraid to get closer – the guy was still heavily armed. I imagined the self-recriminations running through his head right now, and how he would dearly love to take his misfortune out on someone.
    Is he lucid enough to begin to wonder what the hell happened?
    I began to scoot back from the gap in the fence, and a crow landed close enough to give me a reproachful squawk. I looked up at it and couldn't help but grin. “What do you want from me?” I whispered to the bird. It eyed me dispassionately, and cawed again, louder – scolding me for wasting time.
    I could hear the oddly dainty tapping of the warrior's footsteps cease, replaced by the sound of his boots pivoting and crunching in a much faster tempo. Towards the fence.
    Aw, shit...  
    The guy couldn't be much of a shot at this point. But he could get lucky. I jumped up and spared a glance over the fence and immediately locked eyes with him. I felt as if all my muscles were fused solid. It was the first time I had frozen in fear in several months, and I was pretty startled by it. The guy looked just as surprised as me, and we gaped at each other for far too long.
    The warrior snapped out of it first, gurgled inarticulately and began to grope for the assault rifle across his back. Yet something kept him from swinging it around - two thin, dead arms had wrapped themselves around him from behind. Delicate, blood-stained hands began to grasp and claw their way across and up his chest as a blond head popped into view over his shoulder. It didn't take long for the dead woman to sink her teeth into the warrior's neck. The man's eyes were wide and full of shock and fear.
    The dead woman began to shake her head violently, sawing her teeth into his flesh and was soon rewarded with a gush of arterial spray. The warrior made keening, mewling noises deep in his throat, and thrashed in circles – trying to both dislodge his attacker and reach for any weapon he could find. Blood jetted and corkscrewed around them, and soon he lost his balance and they crashed to the pavement, pinning his good hand under himself. He gave a mighty shove with the pinned arm and was able to flop onto his back, the dead woman trapped under him.
    But now he didn't seem to know what to do. He stretched his arms up like he was reaching out to someone, a child begging to be picked up. His right leg rose, shook, dropped, the heel of his boot thumping on the pavement. And again, raising and thumping down. His arms sank slowly, shaking gently in sympathy with the gnawing motions of the