Wretched Earth by James Axler Read Free Book Online Page B

kisses at the
teetering, silent child, then he leaned toward her, puckering his lips.
    “Gimme a kiss, little girl,” he said.
    As if shot from a catapult, she sprang at him. Her arms flew
around his neck. She pressed her mouth to his in what looked like a kiss.
    “Jesus God! That’s plain wrong,” Mildred said. “Get him away
from her!”
    The wag driver screamed. He reared up, batting frantically at
the child, who continued to cling like a pigtailed monkey.
    She turned her head to look at Ryan and his companions. Her
eyes were sunken pits. A dark stain was smeared all around her mouth, and dark
liquid ran freely down her chin.
    The wag driver’s lips dangled from her teeth like a limp onion
ring.

Chapter Four
    Stiff-legged in horror, the wag drivers backed away
from their stricken friend. They weren’t quick enough. The little girl jumped on
the nearest man’s back and sank her teeth in the side of his neck.
    “Shit!” Reno shrieked. “She’s one of them!”
    “What the fuck?” Ryan said.
    Someone was hollering from the watchtower. “Stand back! Stand
away from the gate there or I’ll shoot!”
    Wag drivers pried the little girl off their second stricken
buddy and dashed her to the ground. Omar was striding toward them, shotgun in
his fist. His body language suggested he wasn’t sure who to shoot first.
    “Start the wags,” Ryan told his companions. “It’s time to
go.”
    “What about Plunkett?” J.B. asked.
    “I’ll get him,” Ryan said grimly.
    He’d scarcely started walking toward the gaudy when Krysty
screamed, “Ryan!”
    Instinct made him look left, away from where the warning cry
had come from. A man lurched toward him from the shadows between sheds.
    He moved hunched over, his face thrusting forward, his arms
dangling. One cheek had been torn off, exposing teeth on his upper jaw. The
wound didn’t bleed. His skin was gray in the faint light, his eyes white
marbles.
    At Krysty’s cry Ryan had drawn his handblaster. Bracing it with
both hands, he fired two quick shots through the center of the man’s chest.
    They were good hits. He saw them hit, punching through ragged
plaid flannel over the sternum. One or both had to have penetrated the man’s
heart. But rather than slowing, he put on a surprising burst of speed.
    “Don’t let it bite you!” Reno
screamed.
    Ryan gave the onrushing thing a front thrust-kick to the
sternum. The creature reeled back three steps, then with unwavering
determination charged forward again.
    As much from habit as anything else, Ryan punched a third
bullet through its forehead. The creature folded obediently as a dead man
should, and lay still.
    “Head shots work!” Ryan shouted as he sprinted toward the main
building.
    Around him people spilled from the sheds and the gaudy house
itself. The yard was filling with bodies, confusion and noise. People screamed.
Shots popped.
    At the front gate the Fat One didn’t seem to quite grasp what
was going on. With Locke and Leon trailing behind, she walked toward the center
of the yard, waving her flabby arms and shouting for everyone to cease
firing.
    The little girl, the lower half her face painted with the blood
of her victims, jumped up, apparently unhurt. She darted toward the large woman.
The Fat One saw her and dropped to her knees. Holding her arms wide, she cried,
“Come to me, child! Run!”
    The girl did. When she was ten feet from the kneeling woman her
head exploded. The decapitated body flopped forward almost to the horrified
woman’s feet.
    Stopping by the door to let a knot of panicky people out, Ryan
looked back over his shoulder. Mildred was lowering her blocky ZKR 551 target
revolver from a one-armed shooting stance. He caught a gleam of torchlight on
tears streaming down her cheeks.
    The Fat One squalled in outrage and jumped to her feet. “That
wasn’t a little girl anymore!” Reno yelled, jumping in front of Mildred as if to
shield her from the wrath of Omar’s heftiest wife.
    From