Nightmares From Hell by Michael Todd & Michael Anderle

Author:Michael Todd & Michael Anderle [Todd, Michael & Anderle, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2019-02-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The pain that assaulted Wallace with each step was frightening. It wasn’t simply that it hurt—although it hurt a hell of a lot—it was the fact that his body wasn’t even meant to do this in the first place. At least not since his injury or until he actually recovered.

There was a feeling of physical wrongness to it, a sense that he forced something to happen that was unnatural or borderline impossible. As if, he thought wildly, he held his body vertical but upside-down and tried to run on his fingertips. Or maybe as if he tried to make his limbs bend the wrong way without breaking them. He almost sobbed with the enormity of it. That, however, would have made noise.

“He went this way. Get him!” Marcus screamed from somewhere behind—and not very far behind, either.

Wallace had bolted in approximately the same direction from which Marcus and the other mercs had brought him when they approached Frankie’s camp. At least, he was reasonably certain he had. He’d been blindfolded, but it was a firm habit of his to always orient himself direction-wise as best he could.

Aside from that, he had no idea where he was or where the hell he was going.

Downhill was obvious, away from the mesa-like area of the camp. The pull of gravity helped him increase speed but also put even more strain on the coordination of his feeble legs. They could barely keep up with how fast the earth wanted him to go, and he had very little muscular power with which to resist or control the urge.

He also had no weapons, no food, no water, and no badass cybernetic suit. Only his clothes, the small heart plate, and a mere human body that functioned at about sixty percent—maybe seventy percent capacity, at best. And they were definitely in pursuit. Behind him, leaves and branches rustled and boots clomped the bare earth.

There was one other thing he did have, however, still clutched it in his hand. He held it up briefly to look at it. A closed-line, closed-circuit communications device, much like a phone but more like an old walkie-talkie. Frankie used to have one on her belt until he’d swiped it when she’d punched him.

Notwithstanding his pain and barely-controlled fear, he allowed himself a grim smile. Oh, would she ever be pissed when she found this thing missing. He hooked it securely onto his own belt and pressed on.

Marcus and his thugs were close behind and would catch up to him soon. He had already amazed himself by being able to run this far, especially in the state he was in, but he would not be able to keep it up. Already, his legs felt like they were about to break off.

They would, of course, kill him on sight. At this point, Frankie simply wanted him dead. He’d spoiled her fun and she wanted to put him into the ground amidst the maggots as soon as possible. Then, she could go home and

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