The Darkest Days (Death & Decay Book 0.5) Read Free Page A

why the man
held the woman’s innards in his hands.
    As the man brought the viscera to his lips,
Wyatt found his voice once again.
    “Stop right there and put your hands where I can
see them!” He was glad that his voice came out clear and forceful
and not as incoherent babble. The man whipped around and Wyatt took
a fearful step back as his eyes fell upon the man’s face.
    What…What is this? He once again
struggled to process sights that should not have been seen outside
of a movie.
    Blood was smeared across the man’s lips. It ran
down what was left his face. The right half of his face had been
gnawed off from his scalp to jaw bone. This left him with an
unnerving, perpetual smile created by teeth that were visible
through holes in exposed muscles. The man opened his mouth wide and
emitted the same guttural shriek that Wyatt had been following.
    “I said put your hands up!” This time his voice
wavered as he leveled his weapon at the man. The words fell on deaf
ears as the man leapt up and charged towards him. Two loud cracks
of the Glock rang through his ears as he fired, each shot hitting
the man in the chest. The man stumbled and his charge was halted.
The shots were just shy of centered. If they hadn’t hit the man’s
heart, they had surely punctured his lung.
    But he never fell.
    Instead, he shrieked again and continued to
charge. This time, as panic flooded through him, Wyatt’s shot went
wild and entirely missed the man. The gap between them closed and
the man slammed into him at full speed. His fingers dug painfully
into Wyatt’s shoulders and they both tumbled to the ground.
    The man’s teeth gnashed frantically just inches
from Wyatt’s face as he struggled to keep the man at bay. With all
the effort he could muster, Wyatt brought his weapon up underneath
the man’s bloodied chin and pulled the trigger. Blood and brain
matter erupted like a fountain out of the back of the man’s head
and he suddenly slumped forward. Wyatt’s breath raggedly wheezed in
and out as he tried desperately to catch his breath.
    Movement at the edge of his vision caught his
attention. As he struggled to move the man’s weight off of him, he
craned his head around to get a better look. On the ground, the
woman’s arm cast about as if she were searching for something.
    She’s alive? he thought wildly. How
could anyone survive that wound?
    Suddenly, the woman pushed herself up and let
loose a horrible, grating scream. The sound was all the incentive
he needed. Wyatt was able to shove the man off of himself. The
movement drew the woman’s attention and her lips curled back into
an animalistic snarl.
    This time his muscles seemed to react without
the command of his brain. He swung the gun around and fired in one
smooth motion. The woman’s head snapped back and she collapsed to
the ground in a motionless heap.
    “Wyatt!”
    The call was distant and barely audible over the
blood rushing through his ears.
    “Wyatt!”
    Trevor’s worry-creased face came into his view.
His caramel-colored face was flecked with red. His short, combed,
raven-black hair had already become tussled. All the sounds that
had faded away in the moments of action abruptly flooded back like
a tidal wave of chaos. Screams from the panicked people. The harsh
howls. Gunshots. Dozens of battles raged around them as the people
were forced to fight for their lives.
    “Come on!” Trevor yanked Wyatt up roughly.
Though Trevor was a few inches shorter than Wyatt, his frame
carried more muscle and he had no trouble pulling Wyatt up.
    He stumbled to his feet and leveled his gun as
he searched for a target in the dying light. But it wasn’t that
easy. All the skirmishes looked the same. All the combatants looked
the same. It was nearly impossible to determine who was an attacker
and who was a victim.
    No sooner had he taken in the scene than people
began to rush at him. Trevor was the first to fire his weapon at
the attackers. His first shot hit the shoulder