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

trails the curve of
my cheek.  I knew I looked bad but I had no idea it was this bad!
    “Maybe
I’ll look roughed up enough that no one will want to mess with
me when I leave.”   Wishful
thinking, but it’s all I’ve got.  
    After
digging through the contents of the medicine cabinet and down a
couple pain pills then stuff the bottle in my pocket. I grab some
stomach pills for good measure then turn away from my image and limp
back across the living room, feeling a sense of urgency to escape
before Cable returns.  He would try to stop me.  I can’t
let that happen.  Gun or no gun, I’m not waiting around.
    I
feel out of place in a strange man’s clothes as I grab a
plastic bag to stuff my jeans in.  My sweater is still too damp
to defend against the frigid night air.  My red Chucks bear a
hint of moisture but they will have to do.  Even with Cable’s
scrubbing, blood still stains the white soles.
    I
pass by a stack of plates piled haphazardly with molding food on a
small two-seater table and chair setup in front of a lifeless TV.
 Stacks of credit card bills teeter on the edge, unopened and
long forgotten.  I tread as lightly as possible on the wooden
floor as I press my ear to the front door.  The peeling paint
scratches my cheek as I listen for sounds.  I hear nothing
beyond my own labored breathing.
    Brushing
my hair back out of my eyes, I take a deep breath and draw the hood
up over my head.  “You can do this.  Hit the stairs
and don't look back.  Don't slow down.  Just move.”
    I
glance back at the gas mask lying on the floor. Indecision hits me.
 What if Cable is right to be cautious? What if I can get sick
just by breathing?
    My
pulse dances in my throat as I make my decision and turn away from
the mask. I unbolt the lock and grasp the knob, slowly opening the
door to peer out. The hinges squeak loudly.  A gust of frosty
wind seizes me from the right and I realize the window at the end of
the hall is blown out.  
    Gathering
my courage, I release the door and hobble for the stairs.  The
door slams behind me with enough force to vibrate the bannister
beneath my palm.  I wind down a stairwell that has an
overwhelming stench of mold and body odor.  It seems to leach
from the walls.
    In
the flickering of light entering through the window before me, I
notice that the wallpaper to my left is yellowed and peeling.  At
one time it appears to have been a pale pink but it’s hard to
tell under the water stains that trail from the walls above.  The
floor is old wood, knotted and gouged over the years.
    “And
I thought my place was rough,” I mutter under my breath as I
pause on the bottom floor, breathing hard. I stifle a cry and duck
low as a car alarm bursts to life. Headlights spill through the
windows then disappear again, leaving me in near darkness.
    Leaning
forward, I wipe the window with my sleeve and peer out.  Flames
pour through a shop down the street.  Maybe at one time it was a
small pharmacy or liquor store.  The fire rises high into the
night, flickering against towering brick and wood sided buildings.
 In the light I spy four men jumping and shouting, glass bottles
illuminated in their hands.
    I’m
trapped.
    Despite
the cold flowing under the wide crack at the bottom of the door, a
bead of sweat trails down my brow.  My head feels weightless as
I pause to focus on my breathing.  It won't do me any good to
step out there if I’m just going to pass out .  
    I
glance to my right and spy several cars weaving down the streets.
 There is debris in their way, making the path treacherous in
the dark.  The men celebrating down the road turn to inspect the
new arrivals.
    Shouts
are quickly followed by gunfire.  I watch in horror as a man
slams his elbow into the rear window and drags a woman out by her
hair, kicking and screaming. Seizing my chance, I decide to make a
run for it, ignoring the shrieks of fear.  The instant I open
the front door I am assailed by the scent of