The First Days (As the World Dies #1)(2)

How had he managed to get downstairs? There was so little left of him.

Lloyd always was a big eater…

She almost threw up and both hands flew up to cover her mouth.

Gagging, she stepped back from the door. Her body was trembling violently.

There was a loud clattering noise now, loud and painful to her hearing.

Covering her ears with her hands, she took another step back.

Why wouldn't it just all stop?

The clattering was louder now and her jaw hurt.

Oh, her teeth were chattering.

She closed her eyes, swaying.

Those tiny fingers…those tiny fingers…

Glass shattered and growls filled the cool morning air. Her eyes snapped open to see Mikey trying to push his way through the broken window.

"No, no, no…" She stumbled backward down the front steps and fell as her bare foot slipped on the slick dew-drenched grass.

Mikey continued to shove his way through the window and the glass ripping away his flesh. But he didn't seem to notice as growling and snarling he pushed his way through the shattered glass.

It was then she screamed. Screamed louder than she ever thought possible. Screamed like she should have when she had found Lloyd hunched over Benjamin, eating away her baby's tender flesh. Screamed like she should have as Lloyd had pursued her and Mikey down the stairs. Screamed like she should have when Mikey had turned back to try to defend her. Screamed like she should have when the front door slammed behind her and she realized she was alone.

She screamed until her voice died in her throat.

And still Mikey grunted and hissed as he slowly dragged his torn body through the window. Lloyd, blood-drenched and crazed, came up behind Mikey and fastened his vicious gaze on her. Determined, he began to crawl over his son, cracking and breaking the remaining glass out of the window frame.

Slowly, she stood. Her gaze strayed to the door.

Tiny fingers still searched for her.

Raising her hands, she pressed them against her face and watched as Lloyd and Mikey wiggled and jerked their way through the narrow window.

"Get in the truck now!"

She blinked.

"Get in the truck now!"

She turned slowly. An old, white battered truck sat on her perfectly manicured lawn just behind her. The engine was hot and grumbling.

Where had it come from?

"In! Now!"

She raised her gaze to see a tall, slim blond woman in a business suit and hunters jacket standing next to the truck with a shot gun in one hand. "Get in now!"

Looking back, she saw Mikey slip from the window, wet, bloody and battered. For a moment she remembered how he had looked when he had just been born. Her shriveled up little monkey boy.

After struggling to his feet, Mikey leaped forward.

It was then that she knew it was time to leave her family. Time to go. The money she had carefully squirreled away to provide her and the kids a new life would have to stay hidden in the closet. The suitcase she had packed for her and the kids for when she finally ran away to the women's shelter would have to remain in its hiding place in the attic.

Lloyd had destroyed what remained of their life together.

It was time to go.

Wrenching the passenger door open, she looked back to see Mikey hurtling toward her. She jumped in and slammed the door shut just as he impacted with the side of the truck. His battered, chewed face pressed against the glass as he bared his teeth and his growls ripped at her ears.

"Mikey," she whispered. She pressed her hand against the glass, blocking his gruesome face from her view.

She looked away.

The blond woman slammed her door shut and shifted gears. The truck roared into reverse as Lloyd rushed toward them, hissing loudly.

The blond shifted again and the truck lurched forward and accelerated down the quiet suburban street just as the sun rose over the tops of the houses.

She dared to look back, dared to see what followed. Falling behind quickly was Lloyd and Mikey: her husband and her son. And they were not alone. Others, bloodied and crazed, were racing out from houses, screaming either in terror or in hunger.

She tore her gaze away from the things running behind her.

And the tiny fingers she knew were still pressed under the door.





2. Together




The old battered truck sped around a corner and nearly sideswiped an SUV that was stopped dead in the middle of the road. Forced to slow down, the blond driver of the truck slammed the flat of her hand against the steering wheel and cursed under her breath.

As the truck glided past the SUV, the blond woman’s green eyes glanced into the parked vehicle and wished immediately she hadn't. A man sat in the driver seat, staring straight ahead. His eyes were wide, unblinking, his mouth moving in words that were too easy to make out.

"Stop, please, stop" she was sure he was saying.

But the woman hunched over him, covered in blood and gore continued to pull ropes of intestine up to her greedy mouth. As the truck passed by, the woman looked up, hissed and slammed her hand against the SUV's windshield.

She slammed her foot down on the accelerator and the truck lurched ahead. She stole a glance at the pale, fragile creature beside her. The woman she had rescued sat silently with one hand pressed against the bloody smear on the passenger side window.

"Hey," the driver said reaching over and tapping the stranger's knee.