Read Devour: Death & Decay Book 1 Online
Authors: R. L. Blalock
Devour: Death & Decay Book 1 (27 page)
She raised the mallet, swinging it over her head. It fell directly onto the head of a feral lunging to wrap its mangled arms around her. The thing crumpled to the ground in a motionless heap.
A battle suddenly raged around her. The other raiders had thrown themselves into the horde as she had, and the ferals had gone wild. The horde mentality had been shattered as the ferals all dove for their own targets.
Liv swung the mallet and struck a woman in the hip. She was sure the blow had shattered the deranged woman’s pelvis.
As she raised her weapon again to deal a fatal blow, a man dove at her from the right. It was too late. She couldn’t change her swing.
Instead, she released the mallet, letting it rocket off and thud against the ground. She grabbed for a knife strapped to her thigh.
Her left arm came up as the feral closed the last few feet between them. His fingers wrapped painfully around her arm as his teeth gnashed at the metal plate.
Liv gritted her teeth against the fingers that dug into her arm and threatened to rip the muscles apart, even through her protection. In one swift move, she struck out with the knife like a cobra and buried it in the man’s eye. With another quick jerk, she ripped the knife from his eye socket before his weight could pull it to the ground with him as he fell.
No more than a second later, strong arms wrapped around her chest. Liv let her legs go slack and felt herself drop to the ground. But the feral was too strong and it was pulled down with her as he held on.
She twisted as she fell, not wanting to get pinned with her face to the ground. A man snarled down at her, his face just inches from her helmet. Ropes of saliva dropped onto the visor, obscuring her vision with a disgusting reddish smear.
Liv reached up and grabbed ahold of the man’s throat. The hold kept him at bay and gave her a better sense of aim.
Again she struck with lightning speed. This time, though, the strike was no good. She felt the blade scrape along the outside of the feral’s skull instead of penetrating through the bone.
Bile rose in Liv’s throat and she was glad her vision was obscured. She didn’t want to see the flaps of jiggling skin that hung from his face.
When she struck at him again, the bone caved under her knife with a satisfying crunch and the man went slack against her. Her breath puffed in and out, further obscuring the visor.
With a strong push and a bit of struggling, she shoved the feral off her and snapped the visor up, finally able to see the world again. She shoved herself upright and looked around wildly, ready for the next threat.
There wasn’t one.
Bodies lay all around her. Some still twitched and tried to crawl towards the humans, their bodies so broken they could hardly move. The raiders were delivering swift final blows. She was sure most of the ferals were already dead, but it never hurt to be safe.
She looked over those still standing. As she looked over the faces, she counted her raiders and mentally checked off each name against those who had run into the field with her.
They were all still standing.
Seven new faces were also present. Their bodies sagged, exhaustion taking hold with the danger gone. Who knew how long they had been running? Maybe since the outbreak.
She moved towards the newcomers, meaning to direct them to the farmhouse, where they could clean up, eat, and rest. But as she picked her way across the bodies, she froze.
Among the survivors stood a tall man. He was lanky, skinnier than she remembered. Not necessarily unhealthy, but he had lost weight. His strawberry-blond hair was wild and disheveled. His pale skin was dirty like the others.
Then his eyes met hers and Liv’s breath caught in her chest.
Eric.
Eric and Colin had been working together on the day of the outbreak. He couldn’t have known where to go unless Colin had told him.
Liv’s eyes frantically jumped from face to face as she searched for Colin. When she didn’t see him among those standing she began to scan the faces of the bodies strewn across the ground. There were so many of them. She frantically ran across the field, flipping bodies that lay face down so she could be certain it wasn’t him. Even if it didn’t look like him.
He wasn’t among the dead.
Liv looked up again, scanning the faces of the living. Had she missed him? Had his appearance changed so much that she didn’t recognize him?
Some movement at the tree line caught her attention and her heart leapt. She hurtled over bodies and broke into a sprint once she had cleared the remnants of the battle. He was running to meet her too.
A broad smile spread across her face and she could feel tears streaming down her cheeks. Behind her, someone called her name, but she didn’t care about them right now.
Neither of them slowed down as they approach each other, and they smashed together almost painfully. They rocked, threatening to fall over but barely staying upright. It didn’t matter. Liv wrapped her arms around Colin, holding him tight, tighter than she thought possible.
Colin returned the embrace, his arms around her, wrapping her up in a bear hug so tight she almost couldn’t breathe. He nuzzled her neck and shoulder as she leaned into him, lost in a moment she had thought would only ever play out in her dreams.
Pain in her shoulder startled her. Perhaps she had hurt it when she had fallen. Now it was protesting the enthusiastic embrace.
Something wet smacked against her leg. Liv fought against a sickness rising from her stomach and climbing up her throat.
Her hands dropped to her sides as she released Colin, but he continued to squeeze her.
It hurt.
Her fingers brushed the hilt of the knife strapped to her thigh and the touch sent an electric shock through her arm.
Liv seized the knife, pulled it from its sheath, and buried the blade to the hilt in the side of Colin’s head. Instantly, Colin went still, remaining standing for a split second before his body collapsed to the ground.
Liv’s legs collapsed beneath her. Her helmet was suffocating. She couldn’t breathe. She ripped the thing off and flung it into the field.
Her eyes stung through the tears and the bright, burning light.
Colin’s body was broken. His clothes were shredded and bloody. Bite marks covered his skin. In some places, ragged chunks had been ripped away, leaving muscle and bone exposed to the world. His abdomen had been ripped open, allowing his intestines to spill out in a ropy mess and tangle around his legs.
Liv’s gloved hands hovered over his body as she took in each of the wounds.
He had been ripped to shreds.
Not one of the wounds was old. None of them showed the telltale black webbing of a slow onset infection. Until a very short time ago, he had been alive and well.
Alive.
He had been alive.
He had been so close to the farm when he had changed that he had been able to follow the trail and the calls of the other ferals. He had found his way here.
The realization sent Liv spiraling into a pit of blackness.
All this time, he had been alive. He had come so close, only to die moments before they were to be reunited.
Liv was vaguely aware of more movement emerging from the tree line. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
Liv pulled Colin’s broken body into her lap, cradling his head as she sobbed. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. How could they come so close, only to have their reunion ripped away forever at the last second?
A figured darted from behind her, dispatching the ferals that stumbled out of the trees.
Liv looked down into Colin’s dead eyes as she cradled him.
The only thing she had wanted since they had been separated by the outbreak was to hold him. For him to hold her. But like a genie who grants wishes in the worst possible way, she could have never imagined the reality of her wish.
Had she known this was how she would hold him again, she never would have wished for it in the first place.
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Table of Contents
R. L. Blalock’s love of reading started young, but her love of zombies started later in life. In 2008, when R. L. Blalock first watched the remake of Dawn of the Dead she instantly fell in love with the genre.
Born and raised in Sacramento, California, R. L. Blalock now lives in St. Louis, Missouri with her loving husband, precocious three-year-old daughter, two dogs, and a bird.
Find out more at
rlblalock.com
.