Survivor Read Online Free PDF Page A

he watched me he became more alert.
    I didn’t move.
    He did.
    He came out of the shop and stood on the sidewalk, watching me. Eyes only for me. I’d almost forgotten what these ones looked like up close. Nothing redeeming. His bare hands were black, hanging by his side, dead weights. His gaze took me in, read me, my fear. Then his expression shifted, as he realized what I had to offer and that he had a chance at it. He zeroed in on me, his intent clear, his decision made.
    He came at me, a few steps and then a sprint. I backed away and slipped, crashing to the ground as the Chaser pounced, literally launching off his feet at me as I lay cowering.
    CRACK! A gunshot rang out loud, echoing about the canyonlike streets.
    The Chaser was blown back a few yards. He hit a wall, dead. His chest displayed a single hole; black-red-brown, so little blood, hollow, empty, dehydrated. He was still, motionless. Graveyard dead.
    I remembered when I’d shot the Chaser out in front of 30 Rock. The noise of the gun going off had seemed too loud as it echoed around the empty streets of Midtown Manhattan. I’d looked at the Chaser and at the gun in my hand. Then I’d run to the gutter and thrown up.
    A block up the street, my soldier friend coolly brought his rifle down, its barrel smoking. With neither a wave nor a word he turned and walked away.
    Half an hour later when my heart had stopped pounding and the soldiers were long gone, I picked up my backpack from where I’d ditched it the day before: around the corner of West 73rd Street, off Broadway. I retrieved my jacket, too—a big FDNY fireman’s coat—crumpled and stiff with cold. From the backpack I took out a bag of dried fruit and a bottle of juice, then I put the big jacket on over the puffy one I already wore, looped the bag’s straps over my shoulders, clipped the fastener around my stomach, picked up my breakfast and started off, eastward.
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    My only clue as to Felicity’s whereabouts was the spot in the park where we’d each seen Chasers around a fire. They may still be there, she may be with them. I imagined finding her and telling her everything I’d just learned from Starkey—it wasn’t much, but it was a hundred percent more information than I’d had since this attack began.
    Across the street, I stopped and turned around. I took it all in. A convenience store, its window cracked. I looked at myself in the reflection of the glass and moved closer, pushing my nose against the cold surface, seeing nothing but myself. I rested my weary head against the window and closed my eyes.
    This was where I’d last seen Anna, Mini, and Dave; that final glance of broken friends through broken glass. It was here I’d said good-bye, taken off my backpack and ran. I hadn’t even bothered to take the gun from my bag—there had been too many Chasers after us and it would only have been good for one thing and I wasn’t interested in that. The gun was still there, I felt it, in a side pocket, next to a little wind-up flashlight. I could reach them both now within a second, if I wanted to. Yesterday I’d stood right here on Broadway and ripped the bandages off my bloodied hands and attracted them, let them chase after me . Now this place was empty of life, not a Chaser to be seen.
    Not even a full day had passed since saying good-bye and yet I struggled to think of what my friends looked like. If this was what just a few hours could do, what would I forget tomorrow? What would I have left by next week? I kept my friends alive in my heart but could no longer conjure their faces.
    I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. The street around me was empty. What did I have now—a life with no one in it? A life with the possibility of finding Felicity, who I knew only from a tiny little video screen? What I wanted was company, what I needed was to get home. My life was about getting off this island—through that