Mutation (Twenty-Five Percent Book 1) by Wheatley Nerys

Author:Wheatley, Nerys [Wheatley, Nerys]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-05-04T07:00:00+00:00

. . .

They left the Cutters more than an hour later.

Although Alex wanted to get home, it felt good to relax for a while in a place where he could be sure no-one was trying to eat or kill him. And Micah didn’t offer any objections.

They headed in the general direction of East Town, keeping to the more residential roads where the roaming eaters weren’t so numerous.

“Do you know if Beth’s seeing anyone?” Micah said as they walked.

“Cutter hasn’t mentioned torturing anyone lately.”

“Torturing?”

“He’s very protective of them. About a year ago he didn’t think this guy Beth was seeing was being good enough to her. She’d mentioned some stuff, nothing serious, but where he was being a bit of a jerk. Cutter had the entire station giving him traffic violation tickets for a week before he got the message and started treating her like royalty. Although she dumped him two weeks later anyway.” He smirked. “But if you want to try, go ahead.”

Micah smiled. “When this is all over, maybe I will. I’m good with fathers. He’ll come around.”

“Good luck with that. You’ll need it.”

“Carrie seems to like you a lot.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s just a crush. It’s been going on for four years, since she was fifteen.”

“She’s certainly not fifteen anymore.”

“True, but I’m not suicidal. Cutter would saw my dick off and beat me to death with it.”

They turned onto a street with a small park sloping down away from the road on one side and a row of terraced houses along the other.

“We can cut through the park...” Micah began, stopping as three men stepped out of a doorway in front of them.

“What’s in the bag?” one of the men said in a deep voice that could have given Barry White a run for his money. The man’s appearance matched. Black, head shaved, at least six five, with a build that made Alex wonder if he bench pressed shipping containers.

He pointed at Alex’s bag of weapons with what looked like a bread knife.

“Groceries,” Alex said. “We thought we’d stock up. You know what people are like when the excrement hits the cooling system.”

“Well, this is our street, and the fee to pass is that bag,” one of the other men said, a marginally smaller white guy with a ponytail and a tattoo of the Greek letter pi on his left cheek. Alex wondered if he knew what it meant. The man casually hefted a kitchen chopping knife in his right hand.

“Hey, he’s a white-eye,” the third man said, a bleach blond with a buzzcut.

Barry’s face split into a grin. “Well, so he is. We have a special offer for white-eyes,” he said, looking at Micah. “The fee is the bag plus his life. You can leave.”

Micah’s expression was unreadable. Alex surreptitiously unclipped his holster.

“Fine by me,” Micah said, “but I want the bag. You can have the white-eye.”

“Bag’s ours,” Pi said.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Micah said, switching his skull-spiker to his left hand and pulling his pistol from where he had it tucked into his belt beneath his jacket.

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