The Rotting Souls Series (Book 5): Charon's Vengeance by Ray Timothy A

Author:Ray, Timothy A. [Ray, Timothy A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Published: 2018-08-03T04:00:00+00:00

II

Good news was he had a full tank of gas, soon to have a full stomach, and he was about to be back on the highway and on the way home. He was at the end of the drive thru, his foot on the brake, eyes turned left watching as several vehicles passed by, trying his best not to look and see if he was still being watched. He could feel it in the back of his mind, his neck hairs twitching, his neck arcing as he physically forced his head to keep still.

The cars passed, so he finally looked right just to insure no pedestrians were about to cross in front of him, and that’s when he saw the homeless man across the street in the strip-mall parking lot. It would have just passed unnoticed if the man didn’t have a hand to his chest, his face twisted in pain, his knees giving out as he pitched forward onto the asphalt below in the throes of a heart attack.

Reacting instantly, he picked up his phone and dialed 911, forgetting that the cell service was off. He had a hand on the door, his feet shifting as he prepared to get out, his rampant mind rushing his body through the motions before it could reason through what was happening. He stopped himself from opening the door, his eyes wide as he realized what was about to happen and his inability to do anything about it.

Well, almost.

He threw the SUV into drive and hit the gas. Bouncing across the road, he kept his hands firmly on the wheel as he impacted the curb, jarring his body forward, but continuing forward nonetheless. Before he could change his mind, he pointed his front end at the dying man’s body and shuddered at the loud thump and the bucking of his vehicle as he finished the job the man’s heart had begun.

He slammed his foot on the brakes and felt the tires skid as he came to a screeching halt.

A hand slammed into his hood, Ahiga’s face filled with rage, the gun no longer casually held but pointed straight at his head. Others were running their way, some to back up the youth with the gun, the rest to the man he’d just run over. “You just killed yourself!” the boy screamed at him, his voice breaking.

His fingers were trembling, his mind was racing, and he knew that even though he’d just done the right thing, he might just die for it. The President had said that they were all infected, that when they died they turned into one of these things, and even if the ambulance had already been on its way, they’d never get to him in time before he woke up as an undead. Then he’d be all over the unsuspecting populace around him and the serenity they were enjoying would be permanently shattered.

People began to scream behind him and it didn’t sound like it was due to what they’d found, but from pure terror.

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