Psychosis (Wildfire Chronicles Vol. 3) by K.R. Griffiths Read Free Book Online

have used to describe Rothbury as they approached the edge of town, Deborah slowing the car to a crawl, and finally they saw it up close.
    The town was a bloodbath. The entire population looked to have spilled onto the streets simultaneously, and then proceeded to tear each other apart.
    Alex stared at it in w onder as they entered from the west. There were bodies everywhere, walls and cars stained dark with blood. He saw a severed head sitting atop the bonnet of a Toyota like a grisly hood ornament, the thing’s eyes fixed in terror on some horror that had long since departed. What did you see? Alex thought, and lifted his hand, placing it on Deborah’s arm.
    “Stop here.”
    “I need to get to my parents’ house, it’s not far.”
    “Stop here. ” A little bit of steel poured into the mould, a touch of him in the tone. She stopped.
    “We’re barely in the town,” She began, but he lifted a hand to silence her.
    “Have you looked outside? I’d say we’re go ing to want this car on the edge of town when we have to get the fuck out of here.”
    He saw the logic of it hit home, and she killed the engine.
     
    *
     
    John Francis .
    The words meant little to him. H is mind was like a dry sponge. It offered up nothing.
    The small rectangular identity card he had found in his pocket while he had sat propped against that tree all through the fiercely cold night, listening intently until the three figures huddled around the fire had fallen asleep, told him nothing. A name, a long serial number, the name of some organisation – his job, probably. Chrysalis Systems Ltd . Suitably generic and utterly unhelpful.
    He had worked constantly at his mind, trying to summon up something other than fragmented snapshots, but all he got was a series of images: a blonde woman. A vehicle exploding in front of him on a sun-bleached dirt road. The soundtrack accompanying the images was always the same, though.
    Gunfire.
    Remembered shots repeated in his head at the very moment that the massive man sitting opposite him leapt up like he’d received a dose of adrenaline and smashed a lead pipe into the eyeless thing’s head.
    Gunfire.
    He didn’t know what it meant, but suddenly John Francis was on his feet and moving forward, and he felt a strange sensation building in his gut, a familiarity, like returning home.
     
    *
     
    Rachel’s astonishment at the sudden change in the morning was matched only by self-recrimination. That was stupid Rach. Don’t do that again.
    “Michael can’t walk, stay close to Michael!” she yelled, and lunged forward and up, scooping up a knife and driving it into the neck of what had been a teenager, all black mascara and piercings, surprised at the way it felt, the way the neck resisted briefly for a moment before letting the knife in. Warm blood spurted out onto her arm, and she felt her stomach heave and staggered backwards.
    The thing went down gurgling, still focused on her, st ill clawing at the air, like its mind had not received the message from its body, or was unwilling to accept it. Sniffer …she thought absently, and then her foggy eyes lifted to see Jason obliterating another forehead and John…well… what was John doing?
     
    *
     
    Military. Michael knew it as soon as he saw the bare-chested man move, knew it deep in his gut, the way he’d know that he was hungry or that he needed a drink.
    Sat on the floor next to the fire, with the gun beyond his reach, Michael was reduced to limply throwing rocks at their attackers, seething in frustration at his useless body, and he saw the difference immediately. Where Jason was a juggernaut of brute force, each mighty swing of either weapon clutched in his huge hands ending each particular encounter, John fought in the manner that a dancer might show off a well-practiced routine. He was sharp, graceful, quick ; attacking them high and low, incapacitating them with devastating subtlety. Michael watched as he met them low, bringing them to the