Tankbread 02 Immortal Read Online Free PDF Page B

herself up into a sitting position and watched as his skin swelled and split. Strips of flesh peeled off his bones. Black blood gushed from every pore and spots of dark liquid welled in his eyes. Jirra whimpered, a desperate and agonized sound as the antiviral plasma in Else’s blood destroyed the Adam virus that coursed through his dying body.
    Else took his head off with a wild swing of the machete. The dark-haired ball splashed into the water and sank out of sight. She dropped the blade and heaved the rest of his corpse over the side. Lowanna still howled, her angry cries not eased by the rocking of the boat. Else stared down at the tiny, blanket-wrapped form. The baby girl’s parents were dead, but she needed the same constant care of any newborn.
    Else wondered how she could do that. If her boy died, there would be bloodshed. There would be no time for taking care of this little girl. There would only be time for killing until the very end.
    Reaching down, Else scooped up the wriggling bundle. Stroking the tiny head, Else studied the baby’s features. She smelled wet. Else’s body ached to hold her own baby again. There was nothing she could do for Lowanna. The sea would take her as quickly as it took her father.

Chapter 4
     
    Else shivered in spite of the heat of the sun. The coastline was now a faded smear on the horizon at her back. Ahead there was only open water. A rolling carpet of jade green hiding horrors she could only imagine. She focused on paddling. First one side of the boat, then the other. Her oar dipped and stirred the water.
    Lowanna had nursed at Else’s breast until she slept. Now the baby lay wrapped in a blanket, protected from the sun in the slight shade under the bench seat. Else didn’t know why she hadn’t simply dropped the girl over the side with her father.
    The bite wound on Else’s arm had been bound with a torn strip of cloth and already it itched from the rapid healing of her cells. Lowanna’s life was her responsibility now and by keeping her alive, Else would have to take care of this baby and her own son when she found him. That, she told herself, were the rules.
    She paddled until her arms ached and her head throbbed. The water bag that Jirra carried was almost empty. Else didn’t dare drink anymore. The salt in the air and on her skin dried her out. Her tongue seemed to swell and clog her mouth.
    The heat of the day grew more intense, the glare off the water made her close her eyes and paddle. It would be so easy to lean over the side and slip into the warm water. Let the sea ease her passing and to float off into darkness. Else jerked awake and resumed paddling. My son , she reminded herself. He is out here. Someone has taken him and I have to get him back .
    At first she thought it might be a rocky island, a long white blush on the horizon. Hard to see through the glare and the haze. Else focused on it, pushing herself towards this object. Willing it to come closer. The sun set behind her and a slight breeze came up, pushing the skiff closer. The white rock shifted and changed. Becoming clearer, more defined, and taking on the shape of a large metal ship. The massive white boat wallowed in the water, like a sow with a litter of piglets made up of smaller boats lined up, nose first, against her side.
    Else pushed on. The ship was nearly three hundred meters long and towered over her tiny boat. She constantly scanned the rails and decks for signs of life or movement. Seabirds circled and landed on high perches. Soon she could hear the chatter of their scolding and smell the ammonia of their shit.
    It was a cruise liner, Else decided. One of the white ships she had read about in a moldering magazine. They once took people on journeys around the islands of the South Pacific. Now it was a home to birds and, she hoped, the Sea People Jirra had told her about.
    Mostly Else avoided other survivors. They wanted her to do things their way. Or they wanted to do things to her without