Excerpt
He trudged across the rough land and up a steep incline, finally coming to a blacktop, which he followed for several miles. Parts of the road were broken up. He saw crushed cars, a few mangled bodies. No living people. The countryside didn’t look like LA, it looked like the Rockies to him, but he had no idea how he got there. He checked. Mostly Montana license plates. Okay, that explained the mountains.
Maybe there was a nuclear war. Maybe I’m right in the hot zone. Fear clutched at him, but there was nothing that could be done.
He came to a home, leveled into a pile of timbers and bricks. In what was once the driveway was a car, its roof partly caved in by a fallen tree. The license plate said Idaho.
With great effort, he managed to pull the tree off. The occupant was dead, neck broken by a branch that had gone right into the broken window. Other than the roof the car seemed undamaged. It wasn’t gory, really, a broken neck. He dragged the guy to the side of the house. “Sorry, guy, but I'm gonna take your car. Not like you need it anyway.”
Some impulse— derangement caused by this accident? Was he insane? But the man smelled like food. His stomach rumbled with gnawing hunger. He felt his teeth grow. And he knew just what to do with them. He bit into the man’s neck, swallowing still-warm blood. Fresh blood. Not the bagged blood he was familiar with. Electric thrills ran down his limbs as he fed.
When he was done he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his jumpsuit. He felt energized, alive. He knew he was stronger and faster. More alert.
What the hell? A vampire? But it’s daylight. Morning. Now he had an even better reason to get away from this area. Nobody liked vampires.
There was a suitcase in the car, and a cooler full of food. A cell phone, not that he knew anyone to call. He dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt, baggy but workable, and removed the dead man's shoes, which were a little long, but okay. He tossed the orange jumpsuit behind a shrub, but not before ripping off the number patch. Maybe he could use it for identity. He felt extremely full so ignored the snack foods and the drinks in the cooler.
A small locked box yielded cash and bank account information.
He searched the corpse and found the driver's license. “David Green, thirty years old. Pocatello, ID. Well, man, I'm gonna borrow your life for a while. Until I can remember who the hell I am.”
He went to the side view mirror and compared his face to the license. He was surprised to find that he was handsome, with sharp cheekbones, green eyes rimmed in grey with long dark lashes, and curly dark brown hair, clipped military short on the sides. A square jawline. The man in the driver's license had a shaved head, scruffy dark beard, a goofy half-smile on his face. Bad photo, blue eyes, brown hair. It worked well enough. He could say he’d been dieting and working out. As he’d changed clothes he’d been gratified to see he had six-pack abs and muscled thighs and arms. Being strong would probably help in this destroyed world.
Using a tree limb as a lever, he managed to get the dented car roof up so he could sit in the driver’s seat. Then he started it and was pleased to find that the engine was in good shape. That would mean it wasn’t an EMP, right? He was a bit fuzzy on man-made, world-ending disasters.
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment