The Night Sweeper: Assassin: A Zombie Conspiracy Novel (The Sweeper Chronicles Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

out of the dome in
different directions and we hear a faint sloshing sound high overhead. Every
other night, a sprinkler system incorporated into the latticework of the dome
comes on at ten o'clock and runs for an hour, drenching the little oasis of
trees and plant life they've created here in the middle of reindeer land. The
manpower and wealth it took to create this place must have been staggering. I'd
love to know how it was done. Maybe I'll beat it out of dad one night if
I'm feeling sprightly.
    Graelin and Beth say a brief goodnight, and Mira and I
head into the tunnel that leads to our "apartment". After taking the
elevator to the second floor, we move down the hall a couple of doors. Like the
lab on the island, the computer registers our presence and the door unlocks
automatically at our approach.
    After Damian threatened to have the system attack me, I
tried to see if it would respond to my commands as well. No such luck.
    Mira heads to the closet and retrieves some pajamas,
but I make a bee line for the shower. I'm covered in grime and sweat, and the
steaming water soothes my sore muscles.
    Mira wasn't the only one who sustained injuries in our
encounter with Archer and the events leading up to it. Though my injuries were
not as severe as hers, I had been put through the ringer. As I step out of the
shower, I wrap the towel around my waist and turn slightly to see my back in
the small patch of the mirror not fogged over by the steam. Ignoring the
multitude of older scars, I focus on the long, raking scars snaking down across
my back from my shoulder. They were the result of the claws of a powerful
aberration of an animal that was more or less a giant tiger on steroids. Though
healed now, the scars are still dark in comparison to the others that have
lightened over time.
    Every now and then I'll get a cramp in my right lat, a
none-too-gentle reminder of the rip the muscles took from the beast. It’s
just one of many aches and pains I’ve collected over the years from the abuse
I’ve sustained in countless battles.
    I throw on some flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt I
had left on the bathroom floor that morning, and slip back into the bedroom,
careful to douse the light before opening the door in case Mira is already
asleep. A couple of candles burn in wall sconces, and I can distinguish her
sleeping form wrapped heavily in blankets on the bed. Leaning over, I kiss her
temple, savoring her smell and the luxurious warmth of her skin on my lips. I
run a hand gingerly down her side, willing the pain away, wishing I could carry
it for her.
    I stand there for several minutes watching her. Her
breathing is steady, and I savor how blessed I am to have her in the midst of
such chaos and uncertainty. After a while, once I'm confident that she's
sleeping well, I move back into the great room and retrieve an ice pack from
the elaborately outfitted kitchen. Striding to the small balcony overlooking
the dome, I plop into one of the posh leather armchairs and gaze out over the
rain-soaked vegetation, the ice pack pressed to my pounding face.
    The apartment we've been given is just as high class as
my old one in the Trump Soho, if a bit smaller. Rich furniture, extravagant
tapestries, and posh, multicolored rugs complete an ensemble that would seem
like a dream vacation getaway except for its bizarre locale.
    I consider Damian, my would-be father. He's done
nothing to harm us here, other than his initial threat to have his computer
shoot me. In fact, he's been overwhelmingly hospitable since then, if still as
silent as the grave regarding any additional details of his work. But I don't
trust him in the least. I’ll never trust him.
    I lean my head back and watch the ice storm rage
against the clear dome top. I sit there long into the night turning things over
and over in my head and savoring my hatred for my father.

Chapter 3
Mira
    I wake with a jolt, pain screaming through my body, a
red hot spear sticking into my lower back.