Born to Fight by Tara Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

threatened.
    I feel sick thinking about it. My own family participated somehow. My dad must have been a scientist too. My mom must have been a complete idiot.
    I slide against the wall and creep, pushing away all the thoughts I'm having. My stomach is a ball of nerves and butterflies, but I want that gun. This side of the parkade has been destroyed completely. It's an avalanche of gravel and broken concrete. It really would the be the easy way to come. I sigh  walk down the debris, onto the ground where he is.
    I feign a limp and hold my stomach. The knife is in the back of my pants, waiting.
    I moan slightly. There is no way I can sneak up on him from here. I climb over the edge of the broken concrete and stumble down the crumbled debris.
    His eyes lift. Disgust and confusion settle in. He frowns at me, "Stop."
    I shake my head, "Sir, please help me. I ate some food I found and I think it was bad."
    His lip curls up, "Stop, where you are." He lifts the gun and points it at me. My stomach tightens more. I could throw up, I'm so nervous.
    I shake my head, "My dad is one of the military heads. I got lost and hid from the infected. Please help me."
    He tightens his grip on the gun and jerks it at me, "Stop walking, bitch."
    I stop and crouch down. I don't like being called bitch. I hold my stomach and fake heave. I don’t have to try very hard. I've used this one before.
    He comes closer, just close enough. "What's your dad's name?"
    "General…General…" I gag and burp.
    He comes closer to hear my soft words. I shoot up and grab the gun, slamming it back into him and lifting the barrel. The hit in the chest dislodges his fingers from the trigger. I pull the gun and swing it. It clips him in the side of the head.
    I pull the blade from my back pocket, and in one fell sweep, I slice it across his jugular. I wipe it on his pants as he falls. I shoulder the gun and drag him through the alley as fast I can. My guts are killing me.
    I round the corner where the infected are. I watch them milling about as I drag him. He's sputtering and gurgling still. I stop and rifle through his pockets. He has a small blade, a water bottle, a picture that I don't let my eyes see, and a bunch of shells for the gun. I pocket them and the knife as I stand up.
    I look around. The infected are milling further down. I bend down and pick up a chunk of broken concrete and toss it down the alley. It lands in between several of them. They look at it and bend down. I sigh and pick up another one. I toss it to the same spot and hit one of the ones bent over.
    He stands and looks with his bloody, dirty face. He makes a high moan. I shudder but toss another piece. The ones next to him start making the high moans. I turn and run back to the side of the building. I am gasping for air, my nerves are on fire, and I'm trembling, but I try to stay perfectly still.
    The high moans become the ragged screams as they draw nearer to the dead man. It's the third time I've done it. It rots me inside, but it's us and them and I don’t know where all my us are. I don’t know if they're all safe.
    My hands find their way to my ears when the ripping starts. My breath is ragged like their throats. I don’t have time to wait and hide. I turn and run back the way I came. I slide my body against the wall where I crawled down and hide. The men should be here by now but I don’t hear them. They really are so stupid, as to sit in a parkade surrounded by the infected and chat?
    I'm about to crawl up the debris but my stomach does its thing it does where it makes me stop and wait—like it knows something I don’t. I freeze and wait.
    "George!" one of the men shouts from above me, inside of the parkade.
    "God dammed, George. Where you at?" the other man shouts.
    My skin tingles. I try not to think about the barbecues and whatever U2 was. I try not to imagine their memories as I finger the rifle in my hands. I hold my breath and my back, tight to the wall.
    "Shit!" one man yells