by Amy Miles
The Withered Series #2
Amy Miles
A PERMUTED PRESS BOOK
Published at Smashwords
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-68261-298-9
Resurrect
The Withered Book 2
© 2016 by Amy Miles All Rights Reserved
Cover art by Christian Bentulan
This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.
Permuted Press, LLC
109 International Drive, Suite 300
Franklin, TN 37067
Published in the United States of America
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
PROLOGUE
A torrent of rain falls from the low hanging black clouds above and forces me to crouch low. Mud and blood swell high over the soles of my shoes as water carves a narrow path between my feet. Briars tangle in my hair and scratch at my face when I attempt to push farther back into the bushes to minimize the risk of being spotted.
“She went this way.” The man’s voice sounds muffled against the downpour but I can tell that it is getting far too close for comfort.
I should have outmaneuvered the soldiers miles ago but they have a tracker with them and none of my attempts at evasion have worked. Now I am hemmed in both by the soldiers and the foul weather.
In an attempt to conceal myself further, I slip the black hiking pack off my shoulders. Though the pack holds only minimal weight, my left shoulder gives out when I try to hold the pack above my head and I am forced to resort to curling into a ball behind it. When I scavenged for the bag a few towns back, I was worried that it might be too big but now its bulk will come as an advantage.
In the fading light, I scoop handfuls of mud onto my exposed skin and try not to think about the creeping, slithering things that are sure to live in it. They are the least of my concern now.
“Do you see her yet, Gunner?”
The shout feels as if it comes from directly over my shoulder and I stop breathing for a few seconds, waiting for a hand to grab hold of me and yank me from my hiding place.
My leg muscles ache and my lips quiver from the cold as I force rising panic from my mind. The rain has a bit of ice in it as it slips into my collar and down my back but I do not risk moving. They are too close now. Any wrong move and I may betray my location.
“I think she has probably done a runner, Cap. We ain’t gonna find her in this mess unless she comes waltzing out of the woods with her hands up and I don’t see her being the type. She wouldn’t have made it this long if she were that fool-headed.”
“Agreed,” a second voice responds. “Are you sure that you clipped her?”
I bite down on my lip and force myself to breathe through the steady throbbing in my left shoulder. That jackass named Gunner did more than clip me. He jammed that bullet straight through the muscle of my shoulder and now my entire left arm feels like it is on fire. My only saving grace is that I’m a righty and stubborn as a ticked off mule.
“Hell yes, I got her. I ain’t never missed before. Saw me some blood a ways back but it’s all washing away faster than I can find them new tracks. Hell, she coulda circled back and I’d never know it. We won’t be finding her until this flood ends or we build a big ass boat to float our way out.”
Less than fifteen feet away, I catch a hint of movement through the thick undergrowth and gently peel back a few branches to get a closer look at my enemy. Even through the heavy rain, I spy the long, scruffy beard of the man I assume to be Gunner as he kneels in the mud. I would bet my last can of peas that there was a time when that man wore only flannel shirts, trucker hats and drove a jacked-up four-wheel drive truck with a “proud to be a redneck” sticker on the back. Although he is wearing a proper soldier’s uniform, it has been modified with torn sleeves, missing buttons and a jagged hem.
Despite his ragged appearance, Gunner has proven to be a good tracker and a decent shot. He has that look about him like he’s been torturing innocent squirrels since he was old enough to carry a pellet gun and I want nothing more to do with him.
When I accidentally stumbled across their camp in the woods several miles back, I’d only seen four sleeping bag rolls, but they were paired with two covered trucks that were bound to house other soldiers. Any idea of hijacking a truck vanished when one of the soldiers returned from the woods and caught sight of me. The roar of their engines after the warning shout sent the soldiers into a flurry of panic and sent me fleeing straight into the thickest parts of the forest so the trucks couldn’t follow, but it wasn’t nearly far enough.
Their pursuit was methodical and well organized, while I relied solely on instinct and a desperation to survive.
“What do you think, Nox? Should we keep hunting or hole up for the night?” The man named Cap turns to speak with someone just out of my line of sight but I don’t risk adjusting my position again just in case Gunner was to look my way.
“Gunner is the best tracker that we’ve got, sir. If he says we call it then we call it,” the man standing just out of sight responds.
When he shifts closer, I can barely make out a portion of his profile along with the pistol that he taps impatiently against his thigh. “It’s nearly nightfall, sir. Perhaps our best course of action is to circle up and protect the camp. She can’t get too far at night and if she’s smart she will find a tree and climb.”
“Agreed.” Cap looks to the sky. “Let’s hope the rains hold out through the night.”
I frown in confusion over the soldier’s words as they turn their backs on me. Why would that Nox guy say that I should climb a tree when that would obviously put me at a great disadvantage? Why would the Captain want the rains to continue? His men must be as frozen as I am and sleeping on the ground is not an option with the rising mud. As I rub out the pins and needles in my calves, I decide that they were probably trying to trap me on the off chance that I was still within hearing distance.
With a loud whistle that could easily be misconstrued as a bird’s final call before nightfall, Cap holds his hand high and swirls it in a large circle. A loud rustling in the woods off to my left comes less than a minute later and four more soldiers emerge. Despite the appearance of having just wallowed in a mud pit, each man holds firm to their weapons as they approach their commander.
“I want a perimeter marked out and every potential escape route noted before you bunk down. I don’t want to lose this one.” Cap turns slowly to look each man in the eye. “There will be no fire tonight so stay alert. I want two lookouts posted at four-hour intervals. Nox will see to the guests’ safety. If there are any disturbances in the night, you are authorized to engage on a shoot to kill basis. Are we clear?”
I don’t like the sound of that. For nearly fourteen hours, this group of military grunts has hunted me and I am exhausted. The opportunities for a slip up now are too great. I will have
to remain in position until they are asleep and then make a run for it.
As I watch the soldiers fan out, I lower my head to my knees and try to focus on something other than the rain beating against my head. It is my fault that I had the misfortune of stumbling across this group in the first place. I was far too careless in the predawn hours as I searched for an overlook to watch the sunrise.
Even after all of this time I continue to keep my promise to never oversleep again and miss the day’s dawning. Cable Blackwell, the soldier who proved to me that all life is precious and that hope can be found even in the darkest of times, tried to share this with me before he faded away. Now I will never miss the moment again.
Being alone on the road makes an early rising an easy thing to do since I sleep with one eye open at all times, but it is the memory of Cable’s smile that truly keeps me devoted to my promise. It has been weeks since I walked away from the cave tomb where I sealed Cable inside. Far too long since I felt his touch or felt a hint of safety.
I have done things since then to survive that I am not proud of. Things that in another life would never have crossed my mind, but this new world and my life has transformed into something twisted and ugly. In order to survive in it, I have to become someone I wouldn’t recognize in the mirror.
Cable believed that I am stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. Back then I had my doubts. Now...I know what I’m capable of and it scares me.
I should never have revealed myself so carelessly to the soldiers. That was poor judgment on my part and now I will pay the price for that slight.
No matter what happens, I refuse to be taken alive. I won’t willingly walk back into the military’s hands and be their lab rat. They have proven in the past to be corrupt and nothing could make me ever trust a soldier again.
“Don’t take it personally,” Cap says. I look up to see him grasp Gunner’s hand as he rises up from the mud and steers him away. “She’s a tricky one, I’ll give her that, but I have yet to see anyone smart enough to hide from you. Just chalk it up to shitty luck.”
Gunner turns his face up to the sky. “Ain’t got anything to do with luck, sir. It’s this piss poor weather that’s doing it. It’s almost like someone wants the girl to escape.”
“You really believe that?”
“Nah.” Gunner tips his head back down and rain ran off the bill of his cap. “I reckon karma is the same little bitch she was before all of this mess. I’ll find her, Cap. No doubt about that.”
Cap nods as Gunner moves on ahead then he pauses and turns back, sweeping his gaze over the woods.
“I know you’re out there and I know that you’re armed. You took down one of my best men. That takes guts and no small amount of skill,” he calls in a loud voice and waits for a response that never comes. “I promise that we don’t mean you any harm. Now, I know that my promises won’t mean much to you, but I’m a man of my word. You come out now I can give you a dry place to sleep and take care of that bullet wound. Then we can talk like civilized people. That’s all I want.”
“No deal?” I watch as he swings around in a slow circle, peering into the rapidly darkening woods. “Then we can plan to have that chat tomorrow morning after we hunt you down.”
I remain crouched long after he leaves watching the buzz of activity as a temporary camp is set up. As the hours pass slowly, the cramps in my legs go from annoying to severe. I fidget as minimally as I am able, softly beating on my calves to drive away the tingling. My shivering intensifies as the nighttime temperatures plummet and I’m forced to clamp my lips tightly together to keep my teeth from chattering. Never before have I spent such a miserable night on the road. As the rains continue, I know that hypothermia is quickly becoming a serious risk.
Soon I won’t be able to run even if I need to.
My options are limited and Cap knows it. I won’t make it through the night out here. Either I turn myself in or I make a run for it and meet whatever fate has in store for me.
Just as I’m about to give up and risk it all with a reckless dash through the woods, I hear something crashing through the forest. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I glimpse something pale and fast moving toward the soldier’s camp through the underbrush. The first scream pierces the night before I have a chance to locate the animal again after it leaps and I realize that it has found its prey. The scream rises to a shriek before cutting off abruptly.
“We’re under attack!” I recognize Cap’s voice and see two men leaping down from the back of a truck as brilliant lights surge to life atop it.
Rising up from the bushes, I watch a man hurtle through the air and slam into a tree with a loud crack. He falls limply to the ground as a second scream is quickly followed by an animalistic howl that is so loud it reverberates in my chest.
“Jenkins is down!” Cap shouts. “There are two more on your ass, Nox. Take them out!”
I hear an immediate report of gunfire and another scream. In the light, I see only shadows of the pale animals and the flash of color, but they move too fast for me to truly make out what they are.
“Get back to the trucks!” Cap yells. “Form a perimeter and do not let them through!”
As the small campsite nearly fifty feet back explodes with a spray of bullets and guttural snarls, I dig myself out of the gully and run for my life.
ONE
Staring into the gaping black hole before me, I allow my imagination to run rampant. Countless horrors could lie within the tunnel that towers nearly twice my height and triple that in width. Train tracks, long since buried in packed dirt, run between my feet and race back the way I just came. The sound of dripping echoes from within the depths but nothing more.
There are no sounds of moaning or shuffling feet. There are no screams or a single hint of light.
What if something is in there? What if the path is blocked on the other end and I can’t get through? What if it’s a maze of tunnels and I can’t feel my way to freedom?
Lost in the dark with monsters watching my every step was not on my agenda for tonight, or any night for that matter, but the soldiers I left behind took that option away. If any of them survived they will be coming for me once they care for their dead and wounded. I need a place to hide and this is the least likely place they will think that I would go.
Confined spaces are not ideal for fighting, and by entering the cave, I might be making a huge mistake, but I can’t risk staying out in the open. When the soldiers do come, I imagine they will be out for revenge.
It isn’t technically my fault that they were attacked. I didn’t make those animals cross their path but they were out there because they were hunting for me and by proxy, I am the first thing those hot heads should want to blame. I’d rather not stick around to let that happen.
So into the creepy ass cave I go.
Holding my shoulder with my good hand, I turn and stare at the path behind me, searching for any signs of being followed. Slate walls rise high on either side, tangled with thick growth just waking from its winter slumber. A road lies nearly a quarter mile back and rises along the hilltop but it leads directly into the heart of a small town and that is an unpredictable risk.
As a child, I used to fear the dark, but now, as an adult, I know that nothing I imagined back then could compare to the real monsters that come out at night. The Withered are bad but humans have proven to be far worse.
The road behind me is a graveyard of abandoned cars and glass littering the ground. Charred teddy bears, composting food and flesh droppings from passing Withered create a morbid path. Most of the vehicles show signs of having been thoroughly ransacked. Others were set alight with bodies still inside after being drained of fuel. The scent of gasoline soaked into my clothes during my brief time passing through and I wonder if this was also a part of the military’s handiwork.
I could go back and pick a car trunk
to hole up in for the day but if the gasoline fumes don’t get me, the scent of decay might. It would take the soldiers a while to locate me in that mess, but eventually they would find me. I have to keep moving forward, even if that means potentially doing something really stupid.
Small pebbles crunch beneath my worn boots as I take a deep breath and step into the tunnel. I inhale small breaths as I slide forward, checking for the scent of rotting flesh. The air tastes of well-established mold and I fight not to gag. There is no light ahead to guide my path, but I can’t turn on my flashlight and risk being seen from a distance.
“This feels like the opening scene for just about every scary movie I’ve ever watched,” I mutter as I step forward, hands raised out in front of me as a guide.
The cold swells to envelop me, seeping through the three layers of rain-drenched shirts that I wear: a faded gray thermal, a black turtleneck one size too big and a dingy orange and black high school hoodie that I found abandoned in a car two weeks back. It is spattered with flecks of blood and the scent of body odor remains locked in the fibers but after a while, I just stopped caring.
The cold attacks my fingers next with aching stiffness as I grip a small ax in one hand and a heavy metal flashlight in the other, the same the police used to carry before the world went to hell. With its heavy metal casing, it doubles as a bludgeoning weapon but its weight is nearly more than my wounded arm can manage as I fight to keep a firm grip on the flashlight.
A handgun is tucked into my back pocket for extreme emergencies, but I hate to think about it. I shot the same gun back in the cave after Cable became one of them. Even though I know he would want me to use it now to remain safe, I just can’t bring myself to shoot it again. Along the way, I have collected an array of other weapons better suited to my fighting style.
A long-handled screwdriver, great for ramming through eyes or into a gut, is laced with a bit of rope tied to the side of my leg. A hammer taps against my hip as I walk, its claw head hooked through my hiking pack for easy access.