Day One (Book 3): Alone Read Free Page B

me, yet I hesitated to long and it suddenly turned toward the bedroom again. I ducked back into the darkness wondering where I could hide in such a short notice. The closet was not the place I wanted to be, nor was hiding under the bed. I needed a place, where if I was discovered I could shoot and flee all at the same time. There could only be one of them to deal with or a great many more just waiting outside for me to try and escape. I had to outsmart this thing, which was swiftly becoming a challenge in and of itself. I felt stupid compared to this thing.
    Wet footsteps beckoned the approach of the figure, growing closer to my position as I hurriedly looked for a place to hide, which wasn’t obvious or damning. The only possible place available, which was also the last place in the world I wanted to be, was all I had left to work with. I took my place quickly, yet quietly at the same time.
    The silent figure moved into the room and came to the foot of the bed. Through partially closed eyes, I could see it looking in my direction. It knelt and began sniffing like a dog looking for its chew toy, and in my haste to blend in I had left the rifle barrel pointed toward my feet. If I moved it up to fire the figure would recognize the movement almost before I could get a so called bead on it. The outcome would be disastrous on my part, so I remained as still as I possibly could. Deathly still, even with the foul smell of decay filtering into my nose, which I was more than positive that at any moment I would throw up and the game would be over.
    Moving in closer to the body next to me, the figure shook its head as though the smell offended it as well, and then moved ever so slightly to the left and leaned in for a good whiff of me. It took several breaths into its lungs with more bolts of lightning flashing through the window to give me a clearer picture of the figure before me. To give me that perfect up close and personal view of death, right before it devoured me in one gulp.
    It wasn’t like the others in many ways. Its eyes were not dilated, and given the small amount of blood on its mouth, probably from snacking on some poor soul, it looked no more different than I did. So why was it hunting me if it was not dead… or undead? And why had it spoken in a manner befitting a young child just learning to speak and put words together?
    I was totally confused at this point, yet still cautious not to move. It may look like me, but that is where the similarities stopped. I didn’t kill for sport, maybe for food, and then maybe; just maybe, it killed because it felt the need too. A basic instinct we all shared when we first crawled out of the ocean all those millennia ago, however, in today’s society the need to kill was justified only in the line of duty as a Police Officer or a Soldier. But something told me this thing didn’t care one quirt of piss about justification. It killed simply because that’s what it does.
    It stood and took a quick glance around the room. It opened the closet to find nothing and even knelt at the foot of the bed and peered under, once again to find nothing. When it was satisfied that I was not within the room, it waltzed out with a confident swagger and disappeared in the dark house.
    “I have got to get the hell out of here,” I said silently as I rolled away from the body and slowly got to my feet. I kept the rifle pointed in the direction of the door, trying my best to keep from vomiting. It was in the midst of all that, that I realized I could not remember when I had last eaten anything. Through the fear, the stress, and anxiety of being found and killed horribly, which was far more than one person could handle. I was suddenly concerned about eating.
    For the moment I was safe, whatever that meant, yet I didn’t bask in the minor glory because it could all change in the blink of an eye… as so many times in the past it had. History was a rather peculiar thing and had a way of repeating itself