He stumbled. His foot fell into a small hole. He caught himself before hitting the ground. Stepping back, he saw there was indeed a hole, and it appeared to go underneath the wall. It was barely noticeable, and he wouldn't have found it except that he was pressed to close against the structure.
Dex lowered himself to the ground and looked through. The hole had long, skinny divots. They appeared to be claw marks. Maybe from an animal. Or monsters.
And he could almost fit through.
He patted his knife on the outside of his pocket and looked around.
No one was near. Everything was silent.
Except for the scratching and groans from down near his house.
Dex pulled out the knife. It made a light noise as it brushed against the sheath. He drove it into the dirt. Once. Twice. Again and again until it was just wide enough for him to squeeze through.
He made sure the loose dirt was on the town's side of the fence so he could pack it back in when he came back.
If he came back.
The risk was worth it. He had to know. If he could find a city with hospitals and stores, he would be a hero. No more runners. Fear of monsters. It would all be gone.
Dex lowered himself to the ground and squeezed himself through, again scraping himself. Finally, he pulled himself out into freedom's side. A mixture of peace and thrill ran through him. He'd just done something no one else had.
The scratching sounds reminded him of why he was out there.
He needed a plan. If there really were monsters, he would go back to the hole and return home. Then he would need to figure out if it was worth it to plan a trip out beyond the woods to look for a metropolis. Even if there weren't monsters, he would need to decide how to go in search for it. He wasn't prepared for a trip through the woods.
All he had was a knife. No supplies. Nothing.
No matter what he found making the noises, he would need to be ready to run back. Monsters could kill him, but people from the community would beat him within an inch of his life and let him suffer to serve as an example to others.
Dex wiped the dirt off the blade onto his pants and crept toward the noises, darting from behind one tree to the next. The scratching grew louder with each step. He clutched the handle, ready to fight.
He saw them. A crowd of people gathered around the wall, fighting each other to scratch it.
It made no sense.
Dex darted behind a few more trees to get a better glimpse. The moonlight shone on them, showing their dirty, torn clothes practically hanging from their bodies.
He moved to a closer tree. A twig snapped underfoot.
The blood drained from his head and his stomach twisted in tight knots.
A couple of the people turned around. Their skin was a yellowish-gray color, and it hung off their bodies just like the clothing. A nauseating smell wafted over to Dex. He gagged, though frozen in fear.
One monster pointed a long, yellow nail toward him and made a hissing groan. Both creatures that had seen him took a step in his direction. A dozen others turned around. One had his intestines hanging out. Each of them moved in his direction.
Pure terror ran through him. He turned around and ran, looking for the hole he'd gone through.
Why hadn't he marked the spot? It would be nearly impossible to see. He glanced back. The monsters were still behind, but gaining distance. If they were getting faster as they moved—like it seemed—Dex didn't have much time to find that hole.
He recognized a tree he'd seen while climbing out. Slowing, he studied the bottom of the wall. A portion of the dirt looked freshly packed. His stomach dropped to the ground. Someone had filled in the hole in the short time he'd been out of the walls.
A hissing groan sounded near him.
Dex's heart raced and remembered something about needing to get the monsters in the temple.
He turned. A monster missing half its face was only a couple feet from him. It reached for Dex.
Dex darted to the left and stabbed the monster in its temple. Its eyes rolled behind its head and it crumpled to the ground.
The rest of the crowd was just behind him, hissing and groaning.
Dex turned and ran away from the only home he'd ever known.
(Read the next story to find out what happens to Dex! Don't miss Dex, the novel coming in October 2017.)
Wanderers
Snap!
Dex Sheahan grabbed his crossbow from his back and brought it to position.
Snap!
He moved closer to the nearest tree and aimed all around, focused on everything and nothing all at once. He'd been so careful to stay out of sight, but sometimes it didn't matter.
Everything remained silent for a few minutes—which felt like forever. That was actually worse than the sounds. At least with noise, he could figure where he was looking for enemies. Also, which kind. Humans were by far the more dangerous threat than the wanderers.
Dex took a deep breath and lowered the weapon. It was time to grab his things and move on. He'd been staying in the abandoned home too long, anyway. It had to have been close to a month, but this place had a plethora of berries and even a stream with actual healthy fish. He'd been living like a king, though he'd only heard about that kind of life as a kid from his parents.
He raised the crossbow again, slowly scanning the horizon. Whatever had made the noises had either moved on or was waiting for him to make the first move. Either way, he was ready. He hadn't survived so long on his own by giving into his fear. It was a kill-or-be-killed world, and so far, that had worked out for him.
With the woods quiet, he crept back to the house, ready to show an arrow at a moment's notice. His skin didn't crawl as it usually did when the wanderers were nearby, watching.
He went inside the old house. The rickety walls shook after he slammed the door. He placed the wooden plank across the doorway and headed for the bathroom. He studied his reflection in the dirty, cracked mirror. It was time to trim his hair and beard again, especially if he was thinking about moving on.
Dex set the bow on the toilet seat, pulled out a large knife from his pants, and cut a portion of his hair. Then another and another until it was mostly even. He repeated the process for his beard.
All he needed now was something to eat and a nap, then he'd be ready to move on once nightfall took over. Assuming no wanderers were outside, it was a solid plan.
He went into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of blackberries from that morning's outing. Some were already starting to spoil, but that never slowed him down. Food was food.
Dex moved the curtain aside and peeked outside. Everything was quiet—too quiet. For the last few days, some birds had settled around the area, singing to him each day. If they had taken off, they knew something was off.
The same as Dex felt.
He secured the crossbow to his chest and made himself comfortable on the couch—he'd never touched the red-stained beds. The lumpy couch was just fine, and besides, it was closer to the door, where intruders were most likely to enter.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Dex bolted upright, aiming his bow in all directions, but not seeing anything due to dusk having settled outside. The scratching continued on the walls next to him.
The wanderers had found him.
Thump, thump, thump.
Now that they knew where he was, they wouldn't give up until they found a small weak spot in the structure and destroyed it. They would flood in and corner him.
He had to get out before they came in.
Scratch, moan, thump.
Dex jumped up to standing and checked his arrows. He had close to two dozen thanks to his time spent in the house—plenty of time for making what he needed. His knives were secure.
He went over to the ancient peephole. Through the round, distorted hole, he could see at least ten.
That meant there were plenty more out of sight.
His pulse drummed in his ears. No matter how many times he
'd fought the mindless brutes, the threat of death was real. They just wanted internal organs.
Once again, Dex determined this would not be the night anyone got him.
Crack!
A board near the door shattered. Yellow hands appeared in its place, grasping at air. Strings of flesh hung from them.
The stench of the wanderers filled the room. Dex's stomach turned. That was one thing he could never get used to.
Crack!
Another board gave way. The sounds of their moaning grew louder.
More disgusting hands reached inside, searching for Dex.
He hurried over to the window and peeked out around a curtain and through a blind. His jaw dropped. There had to be several dozen—and more were coming.
"Oh, hell." He aimed the crossbow toward the hands and backed up until he reached the hall.
Dex scrambled into one of the bedrooms. He stumbled into an old dollhouse on his way to the window. Looking out, he didn't see any wanderers—yet.
It was only a matter of time until they had the building surrounded. He couldn't fight off that many.
He had only one option.
Dex slung his bow over to his back and unlocked the window.
Crack, crack, crack! Smash!
One of the wanderers had made it inside.
His heart nearly crashed out of his ribcage.
This was not the night he would go down.
He yanked on the window. It wouldn't budge. He tried again. Nothing.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Dex slammed the bedroom door and pushed the bed against it, buying himself maybe an extra minute or two. If he was lucky.
He pressed his foot against the wall and pulled on the window with all his might. It had been closed too long.
Scratch, scratch.
Breaking it was his only option—and it wasn't a good one. The noise would draw attention, and lots of it.
Dex glanced around the dim room. He grabbed bedpost and yanked on it until it snapped off.
Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself.
Crack!
The door would shatter any moment.
He aimed for the window and forced the bedpost through. Glass shattered, but didn't break.
"Double hell." This tiny room was the worst place he could be when the wanderers piled in.
Dex held the bedpost as tightly as he could and hit the window with everything he had. It smashed into pieces, sending shards in all directions. He dropped the post and covered his face.
Crack!
The groans and moans grew louder and the stench filled the air. Dex didn't have to turn around to know they were in.
He grabbed the sides of the window and ignored the pain as broken glass dug into his flesh. Every muscle in his body flexed and strained as he hoisted himself up and then out through the window. Broken glass sliced through his arms and legs.
The smell of fresh blood would only serve as a beacon for the monsters. Not that he had time to worry about that now.
Dex jumped down onto the dirt and ran.
Wanderers came around the house. Several pointed at him. They all moaned and came after him.
He ran into the woods, darting around trees.
Twigs snapped behind him. Wanderers moaned and groaned.
Now that they had caught wind of his scent, they wouldn't give up easily.
Dex knew of no other buildings in the area. He was going to have to run until he couldn't go any farther, and then keep going.
Something brushed against his shoulder.
He turned back.
A wanderer. They were faster the hungrier they were.
Dex pulled his knife out and dug it into the monster's temple. It cried out and then fell to the ground.
Several more came at him from behind trees with outstretched arms.
He ducked and ran, pushing his muscles as hard as he could. The monsters didn't seem to have much trouble keeping up. He must have been the first living thing they'd come across in some time. Either that, or they were all new turns. All it would take was one wanderer finding a group of stupid people.
Dex had run into his fair share of them himself, having tried to join small groups a few times over the years. Most of them had very little survival sense, and that had put his life in danger a few too many times. He was better off alone than with a dangerous group.
He ran until his lungs begged him to stop.
Like that would happen.
Dex gasped for air and kept both hands on his crossbow.
Eventually, he came to an open field. A structure lay in the distance.
That could either be good news or bad—horrible, depending on what he found. One time, he'd run into what he'd thought had been an abandoned warehouse. It had turned out to be filled with wanderers—about a hundred of them. He shuddered just thinking about it. That had been one time the monsters had almost won. It had taken weeks to recover, and luckily he had been left alone to heal.
He picked up speed, aiming for the building. It was still too far away to tell what it was, but if he could hole himself up somewhere they couldn't reach him, he could at least get some rest.
The wanderers weren't slowing. They were growing faster, in fact. His open wounds were fueling their insatiable appetites.
Smoke rose from the building.
Dex groaned. Didn't those idiots know better?
At least he knew to avoid those people.
He sniffed the air. They appeared to be cooking something.
It didn't smell right.
Human flesh. They were cannibals.
His stomach turned.
But that gave him an idea. He could lead the wanderers to the cannibals and then make an escape. The monsters would forget about him once they saw an entire group of people—assuming it was a group of cannibals. They tended to travel in packs.
Dex tried to hold his breath as he ran toward the compound. Between the monsters and the roasting flesh, his stomach was ready to relieve him of the spoiled berries from earlier.
He had no time for that.
His eyes watered as he neared the structure. A group of at least twenty gathered around a campfire, announcing their presence to anyone nearby—and that was probably exactly what they wanted.
Cannibals loved luring in clueless people. They acted like they would protect them, and then they would eat them for dinner.
Dex had almost fallen for that years earlier, not long after he'd separated himself from his family and the safety of the community he'd grown up in. Curiosity had gotten the best of him at a young age, and now he could never return.
He glanced back. A couple dozen of the wanderers still followed him. A few were almost within reach.
They would be his protection against the cannibals.
"Follow me." Dex picked up his pace and headed straight for the billowing smoke.
The building was surrounded by a chain link fence. If the cannibals had only recently settled into the location, they may not have secured it. Dex could find a weak spot in the same way the wanderers did, getting into buildings.
He took hold of a second wind and ran to the other side of the building, scanning the fence as he neared it. It seemed fairly solid for what it was. That didn't mean anything—everything had a weakness. Things like chain link fences had been built in the days when Dex's grandparents had been children. They were old, and more often than not, brittle in multiple places.
Dex only needed to find one such spot.
Before the wanderers reached him or the cannibals found him.
Unfortunately, the fence seemed unusually sturdy. Almost like it had been packed away from the elements for many years, and only recently set up.
His heart sank. That was probably what had happened.
None of the cannibals he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting were very handy or crafty. That meant they were more than likely cooking the very people who had set up the fence.
Dex would
get revenge for the innocents.
A nail scratched the outside of his shirt. He spun around and sank the knife into the monster's temple before spinning around and scaling the fence. He jumped down onto the other side and waved to the wanderers. "Come and get me."
The creatures piled against the fence, moaning, groaning, and screaming. Several grabbed hold of the links and shook, making a great deal of noise.
Cries of exclamation sounded from the direction of the smoke.
Dex ran his hand along a wound on his leg and wiped his blood on the fence. The wanderers reached for him, but then fought to lick the blood, not knowing the difference between a bloody fence and intestines. They never did. They would always eat anything with blood, guts, or brains on it.
As they pushed against the fence, it bent in toward him. More of the monsters came, following the others. He smeared more blood against the fence. They fought all the harder to lick the blood.
Footsteps and shouts sounded just around the bend of the building.
He ran in the other direction.
"Stop!"
"Who are you?"
"Get him!"
Dex glanced behind him. A group of about half a dozen long-haired men and women ran after him, bearing spiked bats and other sharp objects.
Rip!
The monsters had managed to get through part of the fence. One stuck his arm through. Its flesh ripped from the wrist up to the shoulder. A rancid, foul odor filled the air.
Dex ran, gagging.
Something brushed his back. He spun around, swinging his knife.
The scraggly man ducked and Dex's arm swished through the air in a half-circle. Humans had reflexes and working brains, making him work all the harder for the kill.
He ran, stuffing the blade back into his pants and grabbed his crossbow, aiming for the nearest cannibal. The arrow went directly into his chest. The man grabbed at it, but not before blood oozed from his mouth and he fell to the ground.
One of them cried out and ran after Dex. He aimed an arrow for her, but she moved out of the way and it struck a wanderer in the arm.
The fence creaked and groaned as the monsters' weight made it bend all the more. It was only a matter of moments before they broke free.
Tiny Bites Page 17
