Blood on the Floor: An Undead Adventure Read Online Free PDF Page A

leading away, noting them for escape routes. She notices farms setback off unmade roads and rushes to get clear of being seen. She doesn’t want to be seen. Hiding is her thing. Get what you need and hide.

Five
     
    The horde pass a small cluster of bodies broken on the street. Several with injuries similar to those carried by the man. Throats bitten through. Necks shredded to lumps of useless flesh. Others have been run over and still hold the tyre marks over faces and midsections. Yet more have broken necks with heads lying at weird angles to bodies.
    Flashes of something in his mind come forward again and again but the suppression is quicker than the ability to seize and retain them and on he walks. Unseeing and uncaring but still absorbing the sights around him.
    More bodies are found. All of them are hosts that had been turned then killed. His arms twitch with a convulsion of electricity sent into his limbs that is suppressed. He doesn’t register that his own healing throat is as similarly damaged as those on the corpses he passes, punctured from long canine teeth.
    A breadcrumb trail of action that the horde follows. Feet treading one after the other. Low moans and groans escape the horde. Heavy breathing from the obese man who wheezes to absorb enough oxygen to keep his mammoth frame moving. The half-naked shit covered woman growing more pungent by the hour from the heat that grows to intensify with staggering humidity.
    On a quiet residential street the horde stop as one and snap their heads to the right almost as though in response to an eyes right order during a military march. Something there. A noise. A muffled thump then a muffled scream that shuts off as quickly as it starts. As one they move from static to charging towards the front door as the urge they all feel ramps harder through their minds. Seek. Bite. Feast.
    The low groans become growling hisses and lips pull back to show teeth that ready for the bite. Jaws snap open and closed. Hands claw into talons and saliva is produced in readiness.
    The man goes with them. He is unable to do anything other than abide the urge within. His own hands stiffen and become fixed weapons that will gouge and rake to tear flesh. His body tries to growl but the sound that comes is low and lost due to the injuries inflicted on his voice box. He feels only the need to be within that place closer to the noises so he can bite and rake and make more hosts.
    The horde impact on the door. Not one of them tries the handle. Fine motor skills are gone. Cognitive reason is lost. They are hive mind within their small group. They drive forward, slamming into the wooden front door that rattles and bangs in the frame. A whimper is heard. The pitiful sound of a child in fear and that single noise increases the frenzied bloodlust of the horde. They drive without coherent motion but with sheer furious abandon of physical form against solid object. The combined weight of many that is focussed to a single point. More press in behind and the bulk of the obese man sends him through to the front where he can slam his immense weight into the door.
    It creaks and groans. If it was modern UPVC it could flex and absorb some of the energy but the wood is solid and designed to remain intact. Instead the frame starts to give. The thinner fixed sections of wood being pushed out from the bricks they’re attached to. They drive harder. Venomously driven to get inside. They spill out towards the window of the front room, smelling the living inside. Not a second of hesitation before they start smashing their heads into the glass that fractures with spider web cracks spreading out.
    The screams from inside come louder and more terrified. A male voice urgently hushing. A woman crying with wretched sobs. The horde become frenetic, flinging themselves at the door and windows. A head cracks the outer pane of the double glazed window with such force it would render a normal person unconscious. That head just