Eaters (Book 1) by Michelle DePaepe

Author:Michelle DePaepe [DePaepe, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: permuted press, postapocalyptic, Zombies, walking dead, living dead, survival horror, female protagonist, apocalypse
Publisher: Permuted Press
Published: 2012-06-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Cheryl flipped the switch, shrouding them in darkness as the fingernails on the other side of the door, just inches from her back, continued to scratch.

Aidan took his gun, hopped up on top of the toilet seat, and looked out, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim light outside.

She braced herself for his inevitable scream if he found teeth inches away, ready to bite down. Instead, he said, “It’s quiet on this side.”

A breeze lifted the short blue bloodstained curtains on either side of him.

“Go!” she whispered.

He threw their guns out over the window and tossed the duffel bag after them, then he hopped up and hoisted himself through. Going head first, he dropped down, and out of sight, into the black night.

When he didn’t immediately call for her to come out, she called, “Aidan?”

“Shhh!”

She couldn’t see him, but she could see the faintest twinkle of stars above the spear-like shapes of the trees across the clearing behind the cabin. Inside the tiny bathroom, the flames from the torch made shadows flicker over the walls. Her own shadow body looked crooked and gnarled, a caricature from a story by the Brothers Grimm.

Monsters inside…and monsters out.

There was a loud SLAM on the door behind her and a quick splintering crack. The door wasn’t going to hold long. She knew she had to get out now, because she’d never make it out fast enough if the door gave way. They’d pull her back in by her legs.

She wanted to call for him again, but figured he’d shushed her for a reason. Was he just trying to make sure the coast was clear? Had he seen movement? Or worse, had he been spotted and was afraid to call her out to join him?

The door creaked and groaned. It was certain that she had just a few minutes, maybe even seconds to get out before the door burst open.

Standing on the toilet seat, leaning out over the ledge, she whispered this time, “Aidan?”

“Come on,” he said from below.

She saw him reaching up, and she handed the torch out to him.

Before she could leap onto the sill, a thunderous blow sounded behind her. She threw herself up and onto the window ledge, not daring to look back.

Aidan held a hand out to her. She grabbed it and tried to wiggle out but something was preventing her progress. Her shirt was snagged on something.

“I’m stuck.”

“Come on!”

“I can’t!” She reached back, trying to find the source of the hindrance as a voice in her head told her to leave it.

No, she said to Mark’s voice. It’s your shirt. It’s the only thing I have left of you.

She realized that she was caught on the window crank and fumbled to release the corner of the shirt when she felt something cool and clammy grasp her floundering ankle. Cold fingers caressed up her leg. Then, something wet. A tongue?

She screamed and kicked her feet back, swimming through the air.

Aidan yanked her arm hard. The edge of the shirt ripped and came loose, and she landed in the dirt below with a painful thud.

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