Syberian Sunrise Read Online Free PDF Page B

awkward sounds that might have been anger, began making for him, arms outstretched.
    Enzo let the first one come up to him, falling back a step. It was possible to get through the doorway, but not easy. As he expected, the slow-moving Mutant became momentarily stuck. Enzo leaped forward and drove the blade into the bulge in its chest. The Mutant let out a brief shriek, then lost all of its mobility. It collapsed into a heap half-in, half-out of the doorway. Enzo prepared to kill the second one.
    It was closer than he'd thought. His arm was still extended from pulling the blade out. The Mutant took a swipe at him and grabbed his right arm. It yanked him forward, throwing him off balance, and took a swipe at him with its other hand. He managed to pull his head back far enough to prevent serious damage, but the tips of the claws raked against his cheek, splitting the flesh and sending an explosion of fiery pain across his face.
    Enzo let out a small bark of anguish and ripped his arm free. He drove the blade into the chest of the second Mutant. He screamed something inarticulate, overwhelming the sound of the Mutant's shriek as the blade dug into its flesh, then brought the knife out and plunged it in once more. Again and again, nearly a dozen times, fury rolling through him, hot and liquid. As control reasserted itself, Enzo stood up, feeling the blood running down his face. He took a moment to unclip the medical kit from his belt, open it and pull out the appropriate materials.
    He cleansed the wound, hissing slightly at the pain that brought, then bandaged it. There was a part of him that relished the pain. He'd learned early on that he could sort of redirect the agony of his shoulder to other parts of his body...if they hurt. It was kind of like that old joke about someone complaining about their headache, then someone stomps on their foot and they ask 'What'd you do that for?!' And the other person says, 'Well, now your head doesn't hurt anymore, does it!?' Already, the pain in his shoulder was abating.
    He finished up, reattached the medkit and stood.
    Something dropped from the ceiling on his shoulder and immediately slithered around his neck. It was sickly hot and slightly wet and slimy. Enzo knew immediately that it was a Slug. It coiled around his throat with most of its body. He spied the head of it come into his field of vision and immediately dive for his mouth while simultaneously tightening its hold on his neck. Enzo opened his mouth for air involuntarily.
    It dove in.
    He let out a hoarse, muffled scream as he felt the awful, slimy thing slither towards his throat. Reacting quickly, knowing that he didn't have a lot of time, Enzo dropped the knife, reached up and grabbed the thing. Digging his fingers in, getting a good grip, he tore the thing out of his throat and off his neck.
    The Slug shrieked as it was denied its new home. He threw it onto the ground and stomped on it hard, spraying its guts in a wide radius. Enzo had no time to enjoy his victory. He stumbled across the room, managing to put his arms up against a nearby wall, he hung his head and vomited. Or tried to. There was nothing in his stomach, so he dry-heaved until the feeling of disgust was reduced to a tolerable enough level.
    Enzo spent a few minutes coughing and spitting. The taste was absolutely godforsaken. It reminded him of a mixture of very old coffee grounds, rotten meat and microwaved sauerkraut. Just thinking about it made him want to puke again. Unfortunately, he had nothing to wash his mouth out with. Enzo spat a few more times, grabbed his knife, then marched over to the primer. He read the instructions and activated it, then headed back out to the auxiliary generator. He finished the process and, within moments, had it up and running.
    The lights flickered, died, then flared to life.
    Enzo spat again and let out a sigh of relief. At least that was better. Off to his right was an elevator. He moved over to it and activated the radio