Doomsday Warrior 04 - Bloody America Read Online Free PDF Page A

Rockson taking Mt. Ed’s backpack, and headed back down the hill onto the slightly soggy ground. The ground was hot as the boiling temperature of the waters slowly cooled. They walked forward onto a wasteland that seemed to have no end. Everywhere were the remains of death. All that the black flood had swept up and destroyed it had deposited again onto the caked prairie ground. Animals everywhere—their slime-coated bodies in frozen sculptures of death, some with their jaws still snarling, trying to fight off death to the end. Others were twisted into a fetal position, trying to pretend as the end came that it was all just a dream, an animal’s dark nightmare. They lay bloated, thick as waterlogged wood as flies began gathering around the rancid corpses.
    Behind them the body of Mt. Ed shifted weirdly, the stomach moving in little waves. The eggs of the lizard-thing—nearly twenty of them that the creature had deposited into the human’s stomach with a flick of its long tail, a tail that doubled as its sex organ, moved inside the corpse, twisting and eating. Eating everything in their path, and when they had consumed their host whole from the inside out, they would hatch, little green lizard-things, a foot long, into a world of unfathomable danger.
    On the surface of the corpse ants began crawling. First just a few, then hordes. Marching in long lines, the eaters of the dead converged, searching for the wounded, the rotting. They covered the cold mountain man with a blanket of moving blackness, a million little mandibles taking their piece of the pie.

Four
    F lies were everywhere. Rock, Kim, and the president had to continually swat at their faces and hands. The creatures were in a state of frenzy at so much death to dine on spread out across the corpse-strewn prairie. The buzzing insects seemed unable to tell the difference between the living and the dead as they dove in kamikaze squadrons against the freefighters’ flesh.
    “Damn, these fucking flies—they’re driving me mad,” Langford barked out suddenly. Rock stopped and looked. The president’s face was already swelling up from the countless little nips. The Doomsday Warrior took off Mt. Ed’s pack and pulled out one of two gourds of water stored within. Out here in the middle of nowhere water was more precious than gold, but Langford was obviously in trouble. Rock wetted down a flannel shirt from the pack and handed it to Langford who covered his head and shoulders. It worked. The flies buzzed angrily around the protective shielding and then tore off, too confused to waste more time. Rockson made two more instant shields for Kim and himself.
    After three hours of marching through a virtual graveyard of rotting corpses, they came to the now nearly closed chasm through which the black bile had emerged. It was now only about six feet wide at its narrowest point. Rock could see instantly that they’d have to jump it or detour for miles around the jagged ripped earth that stretched off in each direction as far as the eye could see. He jumped first, throwing the backpack across and then taking a running start. He cleared the seemingly bottomless crack with ease and turned to help the others if they had trouble. Kim came next, flying gracefully over the divide and landing on both feet. Then it was Langford’s turn. He took a long lumbering stride and jumped. He cleared the chasm but his foot just caught the other side which crumbled out from under him. Rockson reached forward and grabbed the president just as he was sliding backward into eternity. He yanked him up and pulled him forward onto terra firma.
    “I feel like such an idiot,” Langford muttered, looking down. “Everything I do seems to self-destruct.” The president was used to being a strong and vigorous man. He had spent half his life traveling around to the hidden cities of America, spreading the idea of a new United States, a president, and a government. A reborn America that would unite and