Read After: Whiteout (AFTER post-apocalyptic series, Book 4) for Free Online Page B

was going to help them. DeVontay was
pretty sure Hilyard would join their journey to Franklin Wheeler’s compound at
Milepost 291, and another competent ally would be welcome.
    He
called Campbell’s name several times in a loud whisper, carefully navigating
the gaps between trees. He was two hundred feet behind the lean-to when he
nearly bumped into the silhouette standing beneath the scraggly limbs of a
gnarled oak.
    “Shit,
Campbell, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” DeVontay said. “Why didn’t you
answer?”
    The
silhouette said nothing and didn’t move from the shadows. Then a branch shifted
and glinted in the moonlight.
    No,
not a branch, the barrel of a gun.
    “My
watch,” DeVontay said, determined not to let Campbell intimidate him. “Go on
down and get some sleep.”
    “Sleeeeeep,”
Campbell said, only it wasn’t Campbell.
    At
first DeVontay thought this must be one of the rogue soldiers from Hilyard’s
unit. So much for Campbell’s prowess as a sentinel. But the man spoke as if he
were drunk. Then other voices came from unseen mouths around him.
    “Sleep,
sleep,” they said, imitating DeVontay’s stage whisper.
    “What
the hell?” DeVontay wondered if he should shout and warn the others. He might
get shot because of it, but they might have a fighting chance. And he was
probably going to get shot anyway.
    “Sleep,”
the man with the rifle said, and then DeVontay saw the glints of yellow dancing
above the source of the words.
    Zap.
    DeVontay
lunged toward him, bracing for the sting of hot lead in his guts. But the
figure didn’t react as DeVontay slapped the weapon from his hands and knocked
him to the ground. DeVontay had never seen a Zaphead with a firearm, and this
one apparently didn’t know how to use it.
    DeVontay
crawled atop the Zaphead and grappled for his throat, intending to choke until
the larynx popped like a persimmon. His other hand, which still held the flare,
clubbed the man in the temple. The man sprawled passively beneath him for a
heartbeat, and then exploded into a flurry of flailing fists and wild kicks.
    Someone
else climbed onto DeVontay’s back, putrid, metallic breath strafing his neck.
He bucked to throw his new assailant but only succeeded in getting more
entangled with the man beneath him.
    He
landed an elbow in the ribs of the attacker behind him, eliciting a decidedly
feminine grunt. Sharp fingernails raked across his cheek and brow. Hot fluid
poured down his forehead, and he wasn’t sure if his scalp had ripped or if
somebody’s knuckles had split open.
    “Sleep,”
said the female clinging to his back, only she delivered the word like a curse.
DeVontay rolled free of the man beneath him and slammed backwards, driving the
wind from the woman’s lungs. She released her grip but the man was already in
attack mode, wet clicks rising from his throat and his eyes glinting like a
furnace.
    DeVontay
wedged his knee between his body and the attacker, gaining enough space to
maneuver his other hand to the flare. He twisted the cap free and worked the
ignition as Hilyard had instructed, and the flare erupted with scalding red
light and sputtering sparks.
    The
brilliant cone of illumination revealed DeVontay’s attacker as an older man,
maybe in his sixties, although his strength and ferocity was that of someone
half his age. With his rounded features and toothless mouth, he might have been
someone’s grandfather mere months ago. But now he was a savage killer, his
vocalized clicks become mushier as he forced a word with great effort. “ Sssshleep .”
    As
the man bent DeVontay’s leg forward, closing the distance between them,
DeVontay jammed the signal flare forward until its frothing tip penetrated the
man’s mouth, shutting him up. But he didn’t scream as sizzling nitrate and
sulfur dribbled from his lips. DeVontay pulled the Ka-bar knife from his belt
and shoved it in the mutant’s heart. The creature jerked and spasmed for a few
seconds and then lay