Read The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither for Free Online Page A

he
grabbed the coat from another soldier.  Reaching into his pocket
he draws out a pistol.
    “Hey!
 That’s my gun!”
    “Not
until you learn to use it.”  He chambers a round and tucks
the gun into his waistband.  “I’m going for supplies
and to see if any of my men made it out.  Stay here and stay
down.  If you’re quiet they won't know you’re here.
 If you get into any trouble, just barricade the door and wait
for me to get back. I won’t be longer than an hour or two.”
    He
grabs a gas mask from the table beside him and pulls it down over his
head.  He places the hood over his head and slips into gloves,
concealing nearly every inch of bare skin. It’s not the cold
that he hides from, but from the invisible killer he thinks is out
there.  
    When
he opens the door, I consider asking exactly who they are,
but I don’t.  I consider lying back down to rest while he
is gone, hoping that he will bring water to still the unease in my
stomach, but I don’t.  I even consider barricading the
door like he said and hiding in the corner until he returns, but I
don’t.
    I
don’t do anything that I should.  
    Later...I
will regret that decision.

THREE
     
     
    I
grew up in a sleepy town in northern Kentucky, not too far from the
Illinois border.  One stop-light.  One mom and pop grocery
store that still had small glass jars of candy near the register.
 Old tree-lined streets with a tire swing dangling in nearly
every backyard.  White picket fences straight out of the Leave
It To Beaver era.  Everyone knew my name.  I could trust
people back then.
    I
miss that place.  Especially right now.
    Looking
out from behind the black trash bag covering the grimy window of
Cable’s fourth floor hide out, all I hear is chaos in the
night.  I can almost smell the fear and smoke fumes filtering in
through the glass and try to prepare myself to enter a world where
people have run amok.  I guess in a way I don’t blame
them, not after what Cable told me.
    I
never wanted to come to St. Louis.  Of course, I never wanted my
Dad to bail on us either, but as my mom used to say, “shit
happens to the best and worst of us.”   My older
brother Connor made out better than I did.  Not long after we
moved here he took off to be a groupie for some stupid rock band
touring the east coast and I haven’t seen him since.  He
never even knew about mom’s accident.  Never wasted a
single minute at her bedside.
    Bastard!
    With
a pained grunt, I force myself to focus as I slip on a navy blue
hoodie I scavenged from the bottom of the closet.  It smells of
stale man sweat.  I pinch my nose and second guess myself for
the twentieth time since I stumbled off the futon.  Is it really
safer out there on the streets than in here? Cable did save my life.
 That’s gotta count for something, right?
    I
shake my head and wince at the throbbing in my neck.  It coils
down into my shoulder and makes my fingers tingle.  I’ve
always done best on my own.   I’m
not about to start needing people now.
    Discovering
a pair of jeans on the floor, I slip them on.  They are loose at
the waist, tight around my hips and nearly three inches too long.  I
sink onto the bed to roll large cuffs then pad across the hall to the
bathroom.
    After
relieving my swollen bladder, I lean against the sink.  Judging
by the ring of yellow staining the porcelain bowl and the thick
coating of lime scale residue on the faucet, this apartment
definitely used to belong to a single guy.  A very disgusting
guy.  
    I
glance at my reflection in the mirror.  The skin around my right
eye is puffy and angry looking, the bruising dark and extensive.  I
have several small bandages patching my chin and cheek, hiding some
of my freckles.  Dark ginger hair lies in tangles about my face,
the fringe around my forehead still matted from fever sweats.  My
lower lip is a deep shade of purple and split down the middle.  My
hazel eyes are lifeless, dull.  Dried blood