The Dying of the Light (Book 1): End Read Online Free PDF Page B

hiding somewhere. I had been tempting fate running around looking for them; it was only pure luck that had so far kept me from getting killed, just like Rebecca. At the thought of what I’d done to her, I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. Just because something was necessary and right didn’t make it easy.
     
    There was a part of me — a large part — that wanted to go out there into the night, searching for the kid, regardless of my chances of making it out alive. It was the right thing to do, danger or no danger. But the odds were almost nil that he was still the boy I remembered. And I had to get out of this town somehow.
     
    It was then that I made the hardest choice I’ve ever made, even though it was clear what I had to do: I abandoned him, knowing full well that it would mean his death, if he wasn’t dead already.
     
    He’s probably still alive, asshole. Hiding somewhere, waiting for you to come rescue him, Dad .
     
    Like I said, not a nice voice.
     
    Mentally cataloguing the few possessions I wanted to take with me, I calmly and quickly began stuffing them into another duffel bag I grabbed out of the closet. Without thinking, I used my injured arm, and bit my lip to keep from crying out again.
     
    First things first, dumbass.
     
    I moved into the upstairs bathroom and grabbed the first-aid kit, closing both doors into the room as well as pulling the window shade before turning on the lights. I wasn’t sure that zombies were attracted to light, but there wasn’t any sense in taking unnecessary chances. I’d seen enough horror movies and killed enough of them in the last two nights to know that ‘better safe than sorry’ was always the way to go.
     
    Fortunately the electricity’s still on , I thought. And the water. I turned on the taps and unwrapped the belt, wincing at the fresh flow of blood from the wound, but thankful that the spike had gone all the way through. I was sure there would be splinters, but right now all I could do was stop the bleeding. Dropping the now-shredded t-shirt on the floor, I examined the hole in my arm and saw it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought. The splinter wasn’t that large in diameter, though the blood was still flowing freely.
     
    Thanks, Dad , I thought as I opened the well-stocked first aid kit. As a Marine, he had always insisted on keeping an over-sized kit somewhere in the house, and I was very glad I’d learned that particular lesson. I paged through the simple and well-illustrated field manual in the kit, and followed the directions.
     
    I was amazed at the relative lack of pain as the coagulant powder stopped the bleeding, and I wrapped gauze around my arm after applying a bandage pad. I looked in the mirror when I’d finished.
     
    Well, it ain’t pretty, but it’ll have to do. Hopefully I can make it to a hospital or something when I get to Lakewood.
     
    Popping some painkillers, I repacked the kit, turned off the light and moved back into the bedroom. After putting on a warmer long-sleeve shirt, I picked up the bag once more, this time with my uninjured arm. Now that I’d at least bandaged the arm, the pain had started to fade a bit.
     
    Extra shoes. Extra batteries. Extra clothes and a jacket. Water bottles. The bag was stuffed and bulging by the time I was through, but I didn’t have to carry it very far.
     
    I dropped it next to the bag Monty had given me, and I looked around at the kitchen just once as I paused by the back door, checking the path to the garage fifteen feet away. It was a cozy little house, but there was nothing left for me here now.
     
    I made it to the garage and inside, the door shut and the light on, pistol at the ready. No movement, no noise. The camp stove under the workbench and the sleeping bag from the rafters overhead went into the back of my black 1988 Ford Bronco along with the duffels. I climbed behind the wheel and paused for a moment. This beast was going to draw every one of the monsters for