Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you donโt realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. 2012 by C.J. Wyckoff (e books for reading .TXT) ๐
- Author: C.J. Wyckoff
Book online ยซ2012 by C.J. Wyckoff (e books for reading .TXT) ๐ยป. Author C.J. Wyckoff
CHAPTER ONE
Kelly sat on the cold, black asphalt of the parking lot. Five months,
she thought. Five months since the crash... I wonder why the epidemic hasn't hit Georgia yet. Didn't the Russians have sleeper cells here, too?
A low moaning sound interrupted her thoughts.
I guess I spoke too soon...
She jumped up and spun around to face her zombified attacker. It's blank eyes stared at her, the eyes of a mindless drone, dead and cold. It's lower jaw hung off it's face, it's intestines dangling down from it's stomach, it's face and arms covered with dried blood and flesh. It hobbled toward her, it's left foot dragging behind it, the bone jutting out of the rotted flesh of the ankle. Kelly reached for the small firearm holstered to her waist, ready to shoot.
But something beat her to it. A black mass slammed into the zombie, knocking it to the ground. Kelly heard a sickening ripping sound, and the zombie's head rolled over to her, barely touching her foot. Needless to say, she screamed and kicked it, resulting in blood spattering her trainer and turning the shoe-laces a dark red. She looked up to face her savior, and her heart dropped into her stomach.
White eyes stared into her own brown irises, the cold, soulless eyes of a heartless killer.
Publication Date: 07-08-2011
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