David Raker 01 - Chasing the Dead by Tim Weaver

Author:Tim Weaver [Tim Weaver]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Publishing
Published: 2010-01-19T06:00:00+00:00

Then, slowly, I opened up my body and threw the stone as hard and as far as I could to my left. It hit the forest floor with a thud, snow spitting up, brambles crackling.

The two of them spun around. Zack was quicker off the mark, moving forward, and around the thorns, towards the noise, gun primed. Jason seemed more reticent – as if he knew it might be a trick – but followed at a distance, walking rather than running. I gripped the thicker stone, and moved on to my haunches. The hardest, sharpest end poked out the top of my hands. Jason was about six feet away from me now, the gun still at his side. In his face I could see he hadn’t been fooled by the diversion at all.

Do it now.

I squeezed the stone and sprang at him. He half-turned towards me, his eyes widening as I jabbed the stone’s point into the top of his head. It made a hollow, splitting sound, like a punctured watermelon. His blood speckled against my face, his eyes rolled up into his head, and then he fell forward, hitting the ground almost silently.

I dropped to my knees next to him. There was blood all over his jacket. When I leaned in a little closer, I realized he wasn’t breathing.

I’d killed him.

A shot rang out and a puff of bark flew from a tree about a foot to my left. I fell flat to the floor and tried to pick Zack out against the darkness. Next to me,

I headed right, around the thorns, and down towards the road, parallel to the way we’d climbed. A second shot rang out, shattering the silence. I kept running. A tree loomed out of the dark and I grazed my arm against the bark, my body swerving too late to avoid it. An ache shot up through my muscles, into my shoulder. I pushed it down with the rest of the pain, and carried on running.

A third shot, then a fourth. A fifth narrowly missed me, hitting a tree as I passed it. My lungs felt like they were squeezing shut. I knew I was losing ground. I knew I was slowing down. I couldn’t keep this pace up – my feet were torn to shreds and there was still no sign of the road. I wasn’t even sure I was heading in the right direction.

Then I fell.

My left foot clipped the grasping arm of a tree root. I tumbled head first, hitting the ground hard. Collapsed on to my front and cried out in pain. It felt like I had broken my arm.

Looking up, I could see Zack, about twenty feet away to my left. He hadn’t spotted me yet, but he’d heard me and he was heading in my direction. I looked around. The gun was wedged against the bottom of an oak tree, its gnarled bark closed around the weapon. I scrambled to my feet and reached for the gun, pulling

I fired twice.

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