In The End Box Set | Books 1-3 Stevens, GJ (story books to read TXT) 📖

approached the coach, only giving the rattle of the door the barest notice and ignoring the slight parting of the clear plastic as the short bodies clambered to be the first to break through; the first to pierce my flesh. The first to fill themselves with me.

I paid more attention to the paint scraped down its side, the buckled panels and black scuffs running the white length until blocked by the back of the truck. I listened, tried to sense beyond the canvas and figure out what lay behind the musty green cover. What made the truck rock with a gentle movement, but didn’t cause the canvas to bulge with hands reaching out?

I heard Alex’s steps down the ladder, her feet landing on the road. I lifted my hand behind me, palm out to stop her from getting any closer. When I could no longer hear her steps along the road, I unpicked the string ties with my good fingers, not stopping to take a deep breath as I lifted the musty material.

It was dark inside, but nothing came from where I couldn’t see. No fingers jumped out, clawing for the softness of my eyes.

To Alex’s soft calls for me to stop, I undid enough ties so I could fit through and I climbed with the awkwardness of using only one hand, but I’d made it into the back still alive. Unbitten.

Welcoming the musty air, I blinked, testing my vision with each opening. Four rows of seats lined the sides and centre, growing clearer in my vision with each flutter of my lids. They were empty, but the space between was not. Instead, boxes stacked high lined the gaps between where soldiers should have sat.

I climbed to the nearest long rectangular box; plastic perhaps, but I couldn’t be sure with my thoughts elsewhere and beads of sweat rolling down my forehead as the morning sun trapped under the canvas.

I headed forward, sliding on my knees with my gaze fixed on the edge of light toward the front.

Air pulled sharp between my teeth, forcing myself steady with both hands as my knee found the space between the next row. I wouldn’t let it slow me as I bridged the gap and my hand soon grabbed the flap of canvas I hoped covered the window to the cab.

Reaching out with my good hand, I told myself I’d seen the worst. I tried to prepare for the horror I guessed moved beyond the thin fabric, beyond the glass on the other side. I told myself the worst I could see was traffic lined up, blocking the road, ending our path and sending us for hours around another way. Blood and guts were nothing new. No injury could top what had already burnt into my dreams.

I took a deep breath before lifting the fabric, but when a pale pink light flashed my eyes shut, I’d seen enough to regret not bringing the gun.

96

Flinching away, I lost my footing, but it wasn’t the desperate sight through the glass that sent me back, but the clawed hand shooting out to block my view, the hand appearing from somewhere in the cab.

Instinct forced my eyes wide, sending both hands to grasp for something to steady myself on. Stars shot across my view as pain leapt up my right arm when my puffed grip took hold of a cold metal upright.

I couldn’t concentrate on the pain; instead, I watched the clawed hand circle as it felt for flesh, but only wafted the stench of death.

Blinking, I tried to clear the spots of light from my swimming view whilst attempting to steady myself, despite having already fallen to the floor between two plastic crates.

With my back crunching into the cubes of glass and despite my vision still stained with the horror I’d seen through the blood-smeared windscreen, I scrabbled to turn and raised myself up high, leaning back to avoid the arm which was still the only part of the creature that had come through.

I backed up, turned, forcing my trainers to kick out at the stiff canvas, breath ran away, darkness descending as a creature fell through the canvas partition.

I screamed. I couldn’t see its advance, but the sound of its crawl was as clear as if I could, as were the scratching fingers as it scrabbled over the canvas seat and the trickle of the glass to the floor as it followed my journey.

Lashing out at the canvas I screamed again, desperate to find where I’d entered and could get back to safety, but everywhere I hit stayed stiff against my effort. The creature was getting so close, the stench of death I would never get used to filling my lungs, bile rising as I coughed between gasps of air.

Amid my panic I saw the faces of my parents. I saw colleagues in their buildings around the world; the buildings they thought would keep them safe with the twenty-four-hour security guards and thick concrete walls.

How wrong they were.

The army couldn’t protect us from these creatures. Most of them were the enlisted.

I’d yet to see a battle where we had won. Where the mental jar of the creature’s appearance didn’t cause us to pause. Didn’t stop us from striking out. Didn’t prevent wasting those first precious moments.

They were easy to defend against. If only you knew you had to protect yourself. If only you didn’t stand there transfixed, eyes wide, trying to figure out if the creature from so many horror movies was real and how it could exist.

Their main advantage was forcing us to kill our friends and family if we wanted to survive. If only people knew they were already long dead.

Choking down a deep breath, I balled my fist, knowing it would be of little use, but at least I would go down trying.

Light came from the front