The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire Read Online Free Page B
Author: Charles Scottie
Tags: Zombies
blow. The bone parted
easily under the force of the hit, and the contents of its skull spilled out
over the floor. For a brief moment Natalie pictured an overfull cup, before
turning and retching on the carpet.
"Oh
yeah, that's good, that's great. I was almost worried I was getting used to
this.", speaking aloud to herself as she wiped the vomit from her mouth,
Natalie closed her eyes. She knew what she had come here to do was still ahead
of her. Dealing with the zombies was terrifying in its own right, but you could
picture them as beasts . It was easy to forget they were people
once, but the man upstairs was all too human. She needed to handle this, or
else his image would stick with her forever.
Taking
the staircase back up, she felt heavy. Her limbs didn't want to respond, as if
every part of her was trying to say it was okay to leave. Growling quietly to
herself, she pressed on. All too soon, she stood at the door to what must have
been the master bedroom. Her mind raced with pictures of what it would look
like, each more gruesome and nauseating than the last. With her hand shaking at
the doorknob, she pushed open the door to find what awaited her inside.
It
wasn't what she expected. In her head, there was going to be blood everywhere,
brains and bone fragments blown across the floor. The truth was almost too
simple. He had shot through his temple, and while there was an undeniable pool of
blood and dusted red across the wall, there wasn't much mess beside that. Even
the smell of death was relatively faint, thanks to the open window nearby. You
could almost have mistaken the scene for peaceful.
Up
close, she could see for the first time how haggard he really was. At a
distance he had seemed well built, but now it was obvious that the muscles were
loose and almost flabby. He hadn't been in good shape for a long time. She felt
the same pang of sympathy again, and began the process of covering him up.
Whoever this man had been before the outbreak was dead a long time ago. What
was left was barely more than a shell.
She
would bury him if she could, but she wasn't sure if there was a way outside
that didn't involve either the ladder or tearing down boards. Exploring the
house for a safe exit, she found a hefty stockpile of supplies. Knowing that he
was well off but still as worn down as he had been made her feel worse. He
hadn't chosen to kill himself as a last resort. He chose it because he would
rather die than fight to see another day.
Continuing
her search, she found that the back door wasn't sealed shut. Instead, it had a
crossbar built over it, secured with heavy metal brackets to the wall. He had
left himself a way out after all. It felt like it hadn't been touched in weeks,
and it took a minute to force it out of place.
A
quick check outside revealed his fence was in good shape and the backyard to be
clear. It was empty and overgrown, save for a shovel resting near... something.
Natalie couldn't make out what she was looking at, but it seemed to be old and
stained. A sheet, maybe. It was definitely cloth, wrapped loosely around a
sizeable object. A few steps closer, and the smell of rot confirmed what it
was.
Natalie
had been right about his daughter not surviving. He had brought her out here to
bury her, but he hadn't been able to do it. He had the shovel laid out beside
the body, and at some point, he had just walked away and shut the door behind
him. Natalie felt her heart tear in two different directions as she examined
the scene before her.
He
should have buried her. He was mourning, but he should have done it anyway. Back and forth she bounced, finally deciding that it didn't matter. He couldn't
bury her, but she could. She would do it for both of them. That's what good
people did, they honored their dead. Or at least in Natalie's case, they did
the best they could.
As
the hours passed, Natalie was only vaguely aware of
easily under the force of the hit, and the contents of its skull spilled out
over the floor. For a brief moment Natalie pictured an overfull cup, before
turning and retching on the carpet.
"Oh
yeah, that's good, that's great. I was almost worried I was getting used to
this.", speaking aloud to herself as she wiped the vomit from her mouth,
Natalie closed her eyes. She knew what she had come here to do was still ahead
of her. Dealing with the zombies was terrifying in its own right, but you could
picture them as beasts . It was easy to forget they were people
once, but the man upstairs was all too human. She needed to handle this, or
else his image would stick with her forever.
Taking
the staircase back up, she felt heavy. Her limbs didn't want to respond, as if
every part of her was trying to say it was okay to leave. Growling quietly to
herself, she pressed on. All too soon, she stood at the door to what must have
been the master bedroom. Her mind raced with pictures of what it would look
like, each more gruesome and nauseating than the last. With her hand shaking at
the doorknob, she pushed open the door to find what awaited her inside.
It
wasn't what she expected. In her head, there was going to be blood everywhere,
brains and bone fragments blown across the floor. The truth was almost too
simple. He had shot through his temple, and while there was an undeniable pool of
blood and dusted red across the wall, there wasn't much mess beside that. Even
the smell of death was relatively faint, thanks to the open window nearby. You
could almost have mistaken the scene for peaceful.
Up
close, she could see for the first time how haggard he really was. At a
distance he had seemed well built, but now it was obvious that the muscles were
loose and almost flabby. He hadn't been in good shape for a long time. She felt
the same pang of sympathy again, and began the process of covering him up.
Whoever this man had been before the outbreak was dead a long time ago. What
was left was barely more than a shell.
She
would bury him if she could, but she wasn't sure if there was a way outside
that didn't involve either the ladder or tearing down boards. Exploring the
house for a safe exit, she found a hefty stockpile of supplies. Knowing that he
was well off but still as worn down as he had been made her feel worse. He
hadn't chosen to kill himself as a last resort. He chose it because he would
rather die than fight to see another day.
Continuing
her search, she found that the back door wasn't sealed shut. Instead, it had a
crossbar built over it, secured with heavy metal brackets to the wall. He had
left himself a way out after all. It felt like it hadn't been touched in weeks,
and it took a minute to force it out of place.
A
quick check outside revealed his fence was in good shape and the backyard to be
clear. It was empty and overgrown, save for a shovel resting near... something.
Natalie couldn't make out what she was looking at, but it seemed to be old and
stained. A sheet, maybe. It was definitely cloth, wrapped loosely around a
sizeable object. A few steps closer, and the smell of rot confirmed what it
was.
Natalie
had been right about his daughter not surviving. He had brought her out here to
bury her, but he hadn't been able to do it. He had the shovel laid out beside
the body, and at some point, he had just walked away and shut the door behind
him. Natalie felt her heart tear in two different directions as she examined
the scene before her.
He
should have buried her. He was mourning, but he should have done it anyway. Back and forth she bounced, finally deciding that it didn't matter. He couldn't
bury her, but she could. She would do it for both of them. That's what good
people did, they honored their dead. Or at least in Natalie's case, they did
the best they could.
As
the hours passed, Natalie was only vaguely aware of