Killing The Dead | Book 24 | Lord of Death by Murray Richard

Author:Murray, Richard [Murray, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Published: 2022-03-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

The frenzied thumping of my heart seemed to be all that I could hear beneath the shallow, quick, breaths as I stood at the top of the stairs. I gripped my knife hilt tight, even though I knew that I had little real chance against a determined foe.

Downstairs the Furies moved into position along with the two cultists. Their whispered words were meaningless sounds by the time they reached me and I could only guess at what they were saying.

I wouldn’t leave my post though. No, I would make my stand and ensure that my children were safe for as long as I possibly could. I just hoped Ryan would be back sooner rather than later.

My lips were dry and tears ran down my cheeks no matter how I tried to stop them. A sense of hopelessness had settled over me and for the first time, I thought that we might meet our end. We had lost so much already, I wasn’t sure how much more there was to give.

Our enemy had the weapons, the machines, the supplies we had painstakingly built up over the years. They had an army of Infected people, any one of which could tear apart a group of casual fighters.

All we had was a serial killer and our own desperate desire to survive. Once upon a time, I might have thought that enough but the years had taken their toll, the losses we had endured, the crumbling of hope before dark despair.

A crash rattled the door as something battered against it, and an almighty roar followed the sound. I swallowed hard and forced down my fear but it didn’t work. The Infected had found us.

There was another roar, a scream of pain and then the shattering of glass as something burst through the window downstairs. A man squealed, a woman cried out and Two yelled as something large and heavy was picked up and thrown at her.

Into the light it stepped, blood running freely from a dozen cuts on its bare torso. The knives in its hands were bathed in crimson that dripped steadily to the floor as it crouched, lifting its head as though to sniff at the air.

Slowly, oh so goddamned slowly, it turned its helmeted head to stare up at me. I couldn’t see its eyes but I could feel its hunger, that depth of need that drove it. A man, wrapped in pain and torment, twisted to do the bidding of a greater evil.

If I hadn’t already been weeping I would have then. Instead, I raised my knife and prepared to sell myself as dearly as I could.

It took the stairs three at a time, bounding up to them with the grace of a gazelle and then it was upon me. Pain lanced through me before I could lash out with my own blade and my blood filled the air.

Another howl filled my ears, driving me back a step as I tried desperately to block its blade. Blood filled my

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