Killing the Dead (Book 12): Fear the Reaper by Murray Richard

Author:Murray, Richard [Murray, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Published: 2017-10-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18- Lily

The pop-pop-pop of gunfire filled the air as another burst was fired, hitting nothing but the steel containers the creature had ducked behind.

“Spread out!” Manners commanded. “Find that fucking thing and kill it!”

Easier said than done, was all I could think as I held the cloth to the gaping wound on the young marine's neck. Blood was spreading in a slowly growing pool beneath him, his mouth moving but no words coming out as I applied all the pressure I could.

“Medic!” Gregg screamed for the second time.

“Make sure that damned thing’s dead,” I snapped at the acolyte beside me.

She grunted and moved the three feet towards where the Feral lay, it’s white eyes seeming to stare right at me, and slammed her knife down into its skull.

“Medic, for god’s sake! Gregg yelled.

“Too late,” I told him as the life faded from the young marine’s eyes.

That made three dead marines for one feral. Hardly a great exchange. I lifted my poignard from the dirt where I’d dropped it and pressed the point against the dead man’s temple. A sickening crunch sounded and I closed my eyes for the briefest moment as I pulled it back out of the skull.

More gunfire sounded from close by and a scream came straight after. The medics would have their work cut out for them.

“Gather up, people,” I snapped.

My squad and the acolytes clustered close, Lars and Mark with their guns in their hands, the acolytes with their knives and the rest of us with our poignards.

“You willing to fight with us?” I asked the black-garbed figures, my tone demanding an answer.

“We will,” their lone speaker said.

“Then follow me.”

Anger tore at me. A roaring fury that demanded a response. I should have known better, I should have warned the marines. I should have known what a fucking Reaper was.

The area around the shipyards main building was a rabbits’ warren of storage tankers, containers, buildings, vehicles and cast away steel and parts. The marines had been forced to split up into smaller groups as they searched, expecting to find a single undead lurking out there in the shadows. They’d walked straight into an ambush.

A dozen Ferals had leapt from the tops of the containers, taking down several marines before we’d even known they were there. They hadn’t been making their customary moans and they didn’t stick around to feed. Just killed and ran, soon lost in the maze of storage containers.

Three times they’d caught us. Three times we’d lost more than we’d killed and I was getting beyond sick of it. They were working together, like a pack of hyenas, they pulled down a few of our number and vanished.

I wiped the marines blood from my hands and gripped my poignard tight. I’d heard of them behaving like that just the once before. I mean, sure, they’d worked in packs before, but not as cleverly as they were doing then.

No, the only time they’d worked in such a smart manner was at that lumberyard months back, just after they’d killed Pat.

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