Danger in the Night (Sean)
Apr 3, 2013 19:07:42 GMT -5
Post by Joshua Bernstein on Apr 3, 2013 19:07:42 GMT -5
They were after him.
He pressed one hand against his side, wishing that he could still his heartbeat. He didn't know how they hunted, whether by noise or by nose. How the dead still had any senses was beyond him, but they certainly seemed to know when the living where nearby.
Hiding was only useful if one had a way to keep them out, and if one had supplies. He didn't have anything. No food, no water. Certainly no weapons to defend himself. Any makeshift weapons would require them to come too close, would be too risky.
And so he ran.
He knew he couldn't run forever. Even if he wasn't in his fifties he would eventually run out of energy. But perhaps before then he would find a safe place, find other survivors who could help him.
That was the best hope there was.
He could hear them behind him, shambling wrecks of their former selves. People he had once been fond of and admired moaned their way after him, desiring to feast upon his flesh.
He didn't want to be eaten alive.
He didn't dare turn around; that would cost him precious time. Not that he really knew where he was going. He had no plan other than to run until he couldn't run anymore, because survival required it.
Then up ahead of him another group shuffled into view. He could see Sean there, ahead of the rest.
Or what had once been Sean.
You weren't supposed to think of them as anything other than the predators they were, but it was so difficult to divorce the body from the deceased person it had once housed.
That was perhaps one of the reasons this spread so rapidly; it was a disease that preyed upon affection and empathy.
But with Sean's group ahead of him and the other behind his prospects dimmed. He turned abruptly, hoping that there would be none to the left. There had to be some place free of them, some place that wasn't overrun.
If only he could get there.
And then Sean moved with a lightning speed he couldn't quite believe possible from the dead, and reached one rotting hand toward him and ---
Josh jerked upright, panting. Sean was beside him, decidedly not dead or reanimated.
Thankfully.
The attorney laid back down, nuzzling his face against the telepath's shoulder and pulling the covers up to his chin. Maybe he could fall asleep again soon.
And maybe he wouldn't have one of those dreams again. Maybe he would even have a dreamless sleep; that would be nice, given how dark most of his dreams were. He could do without any dreams at all.
He pressed one hand against his side, wishing that he could still his heartbeat. He didn't know how they hunted, whether by noise or by nose. How the dead still had any senses was beyond him, but they certainly seemed to know when the living where nearby.
Hiding was only useful if one had a way to keep them out, and if one had supplies. He didn't have anything. No food, no water. Certainly no weapons to defend himself. Any makeshift weapons would require them to come too close, would be too risky.
And so he ran.
He knew he couldn't run forever. Even if he wasn't in his fifties he would eventually run out of energy. But perhaps before then he would find a safe place, find other survivors who could help him.
That was the best hope there was.
He could hear them behind him, shambling wrecks of their former selves. People he had once been fond of and admired moaned their way after him, desiring to feast upon his flesh.
He didn't want to be eaten alive.
He didn't dare turn around; that would cost him precious time. Not that he really knew where he was going. He had no plan other than to run until he couldn't run anymore, because survival required it.
Then up ahead of him another group shuffled into view. He could see Sean there, ahead of the rest.
Or what had once been Sean.
You weren't supposed to think of them as anything other than the predators they were, but it was so difficult to divorce the body from the deceased person it had once housed.
That was perhaps one of the reasons this spread so rapidly; it was a disease that preyed upon affection and empathy.
But with Sean's group ahead of him and the other behind his prospects dimmed. He turned abruptly, hoping that there would be none to the left. There had to be some place free of them, some place that wasn't overrun.
If only he could get there.
And then Sean moved with a lightning speed he couldn't quite believe possible from the dead, and reached one rotting hand toward him and ---
Josh jerked upright, panting. Sean was beside him, decidedly not dead or reanimated.
Thankfully.
The attorney laid back down, nuzzling his face against the telepath's shoulder and pulling the covers up to his chin. Maybe he could fall asleep again soon.
And maybe he wouldn't have one of those dreams again. Maybe he would even have a dreamless sleep; that would be nice, given how dark most of his dreams were. He could do without any dreams at all.
