Slow Burn: Sanctum, Book 9 (Slow Burn Zombie Apocalypse Series) by Bobby Adair

Author:Bobby Adair [Adair, Bobby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beezle Media, LLC
Published: 2016-03-20T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

Across the hall from the commissary, I swung the door open on a room full of supplies that I glanced at too quickly to identify. Nothing moved. That was the important thing. I pointed and told Grace, “Inside.”

Grace resisted. She wasn’t one to take orders. She wasn’t one to shirk. “Whatever you have in mind, we’ll do it together.”

I shoved her through the doorway. “No time.”

Whites were running up the stairs. They were in pursuit mode and the Smart One had worked them into a hunting frenzy.

I looked Grace in the eye and said, “Another person won’t help. Don’t risk yourself for no reason. But get inside or do exactly what I do or you’ll kill us both.” I spun around, planning my next move, leaving it up to her to choose.

A white-skinned corpse, one of dozens in the hall, lay just feet away. I dropped to my knees beside it, sliced its belly open with my knife and tucked my machete beneath its leg. With my empty hand, I scooped a palm full of blood and splashed it over my head. I scooped more, drenching my skull and face in dripping red. I shoved the hand with my knife gripped tight into the gaping wound, burying my fist in the decedent's innards. The knife punctured the intestine, releasing a fume of stink. I reached under the leg and grabbed the handle of my machete and lowered my face to the wound to pretend like I was feeding.

The door to the room where I tersely told Grace to hide clicked closed with her inside. She’d made the right decision.

The door to the stairwell swung open, and the tattooed Smart One ran onto the floor with his troupe of rabid White monkeys in tow. He sprinted straight for the door to the pantry, grabbed it and swung it open. The Whites fell over one another pouring into the room, screaming for blood as they did.

When the last of them passed inside, the Smart One held the door wide and stepped around to get a view of the coming mayhem. His back was toward me. And why not? At the moment I was just another cannibal feeding on a dead brother. He was hunting two loquacious Slow Burns.

I pulled my legs beneath me so I could pounce—the sound of my feet sliding across the messy floor must have seemed odd to the Smart One because he turned to look, confident and slow.

Too bad for him that his earlier skittishness had been an act. Otherwise, he'd have dodged away from the unexpected sound and might have had a chance.

I jumped as I raised my machete high.

His eyes went wide, and the tattooed arm came up to block my blade.

Silly White. That never works.

My machete came down with all the force I could bring to bear.

His tattooed forearm separated and spun through the air. His bald White skull split down through the forehead to the bridge of the nose and blood exploded from the wound.

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