Tankbread 02 Immortal Read Free Page A

groaning in desperate need. Else ignored them.
    The boat was tied up out there, on the other side of the mudflats. She’d gotten turned around somewhere along the way and come out too far downstream. Her usual route took her through the trees to the edge of the river. There was no going back now—the moans of zombies had brought others to the edge of the trees. In the brief flash of the lightning’s glow she could see the dark shapes of others coming up behind her.
    Using the stick and moving carefully between the thrashing zombies, Else made her way across the mud. The baby, cradled in one arm, had managed to latch onto her breast and she felt the strong tugging sensation of his first suckling.
    “I’m glad you can think about food at a time like this,” she murmured to him.
    An evol reared up out of the mud. Else jerked the stick back and stabbed it through the throat with the broken end. Twisting it, she forced the stake deep into the dead man’s neck and bore down on the branch until the zombie shuddered and lay still. Pulling her stick free she waded on. The packed mud near the river was firmer, and in the lightning flashes she could see the wide, slick smears where crocodiles had slid into the water.
    Turning up stream, Else could see the trees where the boat would be tied. She had checked it that morning and even the recent flooding hadn’t torn it free from its moorings. They made good time along the mud bank. The baby had gone quiet, cradled against Else’s chest; he seemed to be sleeping. Adrenaline kept her going. Adrenaline and an instinctive need to protect the tiny person she carried.
    She strode on using the stick to help keep her moving when the ground underfoot jerked. Expecting another evol, Else reared back with the stick raised ready to strike.
    A deep, hissing gurgle came from the ground. A large croc twisted and snapped at the end of the stick, biting through it like a breadstick.
    Else crouched slightly, legs bent, ready to spring away. The croc turned, its massive head splitting open to reveal a long, pale, triangular mouth rimmed with sharp teeth. With the baby tucked in her arm and the remains of the stick clutched in her other hand like a club, Else hissed and bared her teeth at the croc. Mouth wide, it rushed at her.
    Else jumped, landing lightly on the beast’s back and sprinting three steps towards its tail. The croc spun and twisted, his heavy tail thrashing with enough force to crush bone. Else jumped again, her feet splashing in the water and she almost fell. The baby mewled and began to wail. The woman turned and faced the croc again as it charged. She threw herself sideways and stabbed down with the short stick. The tip pierced his eye and Else was thrown clear. She went under the water and immediately surfaced again, pushing the shrieking baby up to keep his head above the surface.
    The croc went berserk on the mud bank. Writhing and turning, he slapped the mud with his tail. As Else scrambled out, the twelve-foot-long monster slid into the dark water. Leaping to her feet, Else ran along the bank towards the shelter of the trees. The baby cried louder, the water soaking through the blanket now chilling him.
    “Shhh baby, it’s going to be okay,” Else said through chattering teeth. The rain eased a little as they reached the trees. She found the path that led to the boat and hurried along it, both arms cradling the tiny baby to her shoulder.
    The boat was little more than a skiff, a flat-bottomed aluminum dinghy that Else had packed with emergency supplies. A shotgun, ammunition, a first aid kit, tinned food, bottled water, a spare machete, and blankets. All tied together under a canvas tarpaulin. She untied the tarp and pulled out the blanket. Stripping the baby, she swaddled him in a fresh, dry cotton blanket and gently set him down in the middle of the skiff. Covering him with the tarp quieted him and the movement of the boat on the high water rocked him to silence. Drawing