Running Dry: The Complete Series by M. Christian

Author:M. Christian [Christian, M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1603818022
Amazon: B00CWNRFYM
Published: 2013-05-20T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

Run!

She saw him. He saw her. No question about that. No question at all. Still, she hesitated. In the cool, dusty living room, looking at the door, she couldn't move. Light was behind him, outlining him with a dull yellow afternoon.

Paralysis – until Sergio saw her, and smiled.

Paralysis lifted. Movement granted. Legs finally obeying her will, she spun around, and began to sprint in the general direction of away. But even though she was moving, the air felt like syrup, as if she was at the bottom of a translucent, sluggish sea.

Her breathing was a bellows in her ears. Pushing herself through the thick air, she tried to focus on a steady, simple repetition: Forward, leg up, leg down, push, move forward, leg up, leg down, push, move forward, away from the door, back towards the living room.

She could feel him behind her. The kitchen was on the hazy, indistinct side of a huge expanse, but there was another exit.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit, was her thoughts, an endless loop in her mind. The kitchen might be too far away, but bright golden daylight was coming through another way out, through the plaster and lath-ringed gap in the wall.

Faster; she tried to/had to move faster. A scream filled her chest, trying to push its way up her throat, but couldn't make it gasping her gasping inhales and exhales.

Light. Somehow, she wasn't sure how, she'd put one leg down, pushed, and repeated herself through the weighty air until she was there, at the hole in the wall.

A second's pause to appraise: it was wide enough, but how far down to the ground was it? The sun was dazzling, making everything blaze painfully, stabbing painfully into her eyes.

Senses magnified in panic, imagination running faster than her legs, she could feel him in the room behind her, running towards her, his mouth stretched, open too wide to be human, just like Doud's hungry, ravenous roar the night before. Her terror knew – knew – that he was there, right there, ready to grab her, spin her around, put those awful lips to hers.

Flexing her legs, she propelled herself through the broken wall and out into unknown space. No idea how far up, or what was exactly below, but she did it anyway. Anything was better than what was chasing her.

She flew. Mind racing, heart keeping pace with its racing, she thought, thanks to her stretched, distorted time sense, got to get the hell away from here, just before she hit the ground.

Legs hitting first, she slipped, collapsed into a crouch. Pain throbbed up from her thighs and ankles, rushing past even the fear thudding in her ears.

Up onto her feet, pushed away, began running again. Weeds stung her face, her sprint through their thick patches a loud shushing in her ears. Tearing through the thin stalks, her feet slid and skipped over irregularities, ripples and ruts, or half-buried rocks in the fallow field.

Legs pumping, the curtain of dead, yellow,

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