The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither by Amy Miles Read Free Book Online

garbage left out to rot.
 Cat urine is nearly as potent.  I press my sleeve to my
mouth and take a shallow breath as I keep to the shadows and move
away from the fight, wishing that I could plug my ears against the
screams and laughter.
    My
hoodie catches on the brick as I weave around overturned garbage bins
and discarded bicycles.  Suitcases spill from forgotten
vehicles, their engines dead and cold.  Car doors stand open
like empty tombs as I pass.  Apartment windows remain dark,
blinds pulled and curtains drawn.  I wonder if anyone has
remained in this part of the town.
    Gunfire
up ahead makes me eat pavement.  It chews at the skin of my
palms and knees but I choke down my cry.  That was close.
    At
the ping of bullets hitting metal and brick, I belly crawl toward an
abandoned car.  Crouching in the space of an opened passenger
side door, I peek into the back seat to make sure nothing is going to
leap out at me.  A vacant child’s car seat sits behind the
driver’s seat.  Its pink material is splattered with
flaking blood.  I shiver and draw my gaze away, checking under
the car to be sure I’m safe.
    Screams
spill  out into the night, shrill and filled with terror. A
man’s bellow cuts off suddenly.  An eerie silence follows.
I clutch the seat belt for support, feeling the fibers dig into my
bloody palms as I frantically look all around.  Which direction
did that come from?
    The
narrow streets and tall buildings make it nearly impossible to
determine the location of the screams.  A loud explosion comes
at me like a rolling echo and rumbles in my chest as a fireball rises
into the sky from two or three blocks away.
    I
trip over my laces as I get to my feet, using the car to steady me.
 Staggering back toward the edge of the building, I slip down
the darkened alley.  The sound of my shoes slapping the ground
is covered by more gunfire.  This time it sounds closer.
    Headlights
pass by, zipping erratically.  A crunch of metal is followed by
a steady honk of the horn.  They will hear the sound.  They
will come.
    I
know who they are
now.  Cable tried to warn me about the rioters but I didn’t
listen.  He said they were in another part of town, over by the
hospital.  That’s at least ten miles to the west by my
best guess.  Have they moved into this area so quickly? Has the
entire city already been lost?
    I
look around to get my bearings.  I’m not overly familiar
with this part of the city.  I lived further west, towards the
outskirts of town.  I used to take the Metro each morning to see
my mother and return long after dark.  That was before the
Moaners arrived.  
    Reaching
the end of the alley, I hug the wall and peer around.  This
street is not as well lit and that scares me.  Shadows mean
plenty of hiding places for things lurking in the dark.
    As
I step forward, glass crunches beneath my sneakers.  I look up
to see that the streetlight overhead has been knocked out.  My
hands seek purchase on the building for support as I gulp in air.
 Darkness encroaches along the edge of my vision.
    “Don’t
pass out.  Don’t pass out.”   I
chant to myself for a minute until the dizziness passes.  I
clutch my stomach with my free hand and double over, desperate not to
be sick. Grabbing the stomach meds, I fight with the plastic cap then
toss back a couple of pills without looking at the dosage.  I
hold my breath and count.  After a minute I feel better and
rise.
    As
I push off the wall my fingers sink into a hole.  I turn and
trace the indentation.  Six more span a two foot radius.  Bullet
holes.
    I
search the fire lit street behind me.  My mind imagines all
sorts of foul things crawling toward me in the dark.  Evil men
with lurid thoughts.  Faceless people endlessly walking the
streets.  I listen for the tell-tale moan of the Withered Ones
but hear nothing.
    I
look to the darkened windows all around and wonder who lived in these
homes.  Did they make it out alive?  Did they