by Bella Street
Lani grabbed her hands and squeezed. “The most amazing thing! Gareth and Eugene think they found a way for us to go back home!”
Read an excerpt of iRobotronic, Book Three of Apocalypse Babes on the next page.
Bella Street's other titles:
The Z Word—Apocalypse Babes Book One
Kiss Me, I'm Irish—Time For Love Book One
Visit me at
ApocalypseBabes.com
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BellaStreetWrites.com
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Thank you for reading!
Excerpt from iRobotronic
Apocalypse Babes | Book Three
The whine of overhead jets eclipsed the roar of Seffy's heart as she stumbled over the debris of broken machinery and broken bodies. She skirted a small fire, then clambered over a pile of rubble. The staccato of shots sounded overhead, making her duck for a moment before pressing on. The irony was she didn't know where she was going. She had just run, until her lungs and legs gave out, day and night.
Seffy slid into a shadowed crevice of one of the few remaining structures, pressing herself against the side. She struggled to catch her breath without making a sound because she never knew what might be listening. She watched the destruction through the gap with dry eyes. Seffy had stopped crying a long time ago. There was no longer any point.
The sound of a footstep crunching on metal made her stiffen in fear. She scanned the immediate area but couldn't see what would cause the noise. Suddenly a orange cat jumped from a pile of boxes, making her gasp out loud. As she put her hand to her heart, she heard another footstep. Spotting a singular red dot on the wall next to her head sent her diving to one side. A spray of masonry marked the spot of her near-death. Seffy leapt over a pile of debris and headed out of the crevice, her limbs straining in desperation. She'd rather make a run for it then get caught like a rat in a corner.
As she burst past the edge of the building, one stood there waiting for her. She skidded to a stop, gasping for breath. It was then she realized they'd set a trap. Seffy curled her lip in acknowledgement of their achievement. But it didn't stop to celebrate. It pointed the weapon and fired two rounds into her torso. She dropped to the ground, almost relieved that it was finally over. The absence of pain probably meant that the bullets had severed her spine. She lay on her back, looking into its eyes, not expecting to see a soul. As the image above her wavered in the flickering gloom, she watched its foot lower onto her head, crushing her skull.
“Seffy.”
She opened her eyes. The nightmare receded into the depths of her consciousness as she became aware of her surroundings.
The compound.
Nausea roiled in her gut. Seffy despised every painted concrete block, every hidden passage, every dank basement hole. She suppressed a flash of regret that the dream wasn't real—that her life really wasn't over.
Gareth was staring down at her with a sad smile. He tapped his cheek, indicating her tears. “Another bad dream?”
She nodded, attempting a smile. But her fatigue was so great she couldn't be sure her facial muscles had moved. At least the bad dreams seemed to be tapering off—even if the content was still horrifying. She'd only had one other in the last several days, which ostensibly meant she was no longer being drugged by the shadowy puppet-master who really ran Fugere—a so-called refuge in a remote reaches of Montana.
Yipee.