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

Years of waking up in strange places
puts me immediately on guard. I try to roll away from my attacker, the sadist
who's trying to skewer me like a pig, but my body won't cooperate. God help
me! I have to get away. Something moves beside me and I try to slide away
from it, my eyes tracing the shape in the darkness, looming close to me like a
demon threatening to suck my life away. I feel hazy, smothered, until my mind
begins to clear and I come fully awake. The shape next to me is Cray, snoring
gently, peaceful and at rest. I belatedly realize my attacker doesn't exist;
I'm being tortured by my own body.
    I bite my lip, push slowly to a half sitting position
and slide off the side of the bed. My feet hitting the floor causes a fresh
wave of fire to slice through my back, arcing into my extremities, and I stifle
a whimper. I stagger awkwardly across the thick carpet into the bathroom and
ease the door closed before sinking into a heap on the cold tile. I force
myself to breathe and concentrate on the coolness of the floor pushing through
my thin pajama pants, the darkness around me.
    Closing my eyes, I will myself to ignore the agony
until I slowly regain some semblance of control. The pain begins to ebb from me
like a brook, dreadfully slow, infuriatingly slow. But with each passing
second, it becomes more and more bearable. It takes several minutes, but I'm
finally able to control it to the point where it is just a dull ache. For the
first time, I realize my face is wet from the tears that have squeezed themselves
from my eyes, and I wipe at them angrily, feeling weak that they're even there.
    I told Cray the truth. The pain is getting
harder to control. But even he doesn't know just how hard it's become. There
are times when it threatens to break through my best efforts, like water
bursting from a dam, trying to drown me, to pull me under. After that night in
the tower, I've been on a downward spiral, and I'm scared to think of where I
will be a year from now. What if I get to the point that I lose all control? I
balk at the thought of being a cripple.
    The doctor that patched me up after the explosion did
okay with what he had to work with, but the damage was extensive. I can't be
sure, but I suspect the source of my current pain is related to a piece of
shrapnel lodged in my spine that he said was too dangerous to remove. I think
my ability to control pain is somehow related to my central nervous system, and
this shrapnel is blocking the signals.
    After a while, I rise deliberately, careful not to
re-aggravate the injury by moving too fast. I've found I can control it better
when I'm still. But right now, I'm wide awake, I want some fresh air, and since
I'm not going back to sleep for a while, I'm going to take the opportunity to
spy this place out some more.
    Damian has put up a good façade, but it's obvious he's
full of secrets. I can't imagine what bizarre atrocities he may have
hidden around here if what we found on the island is any indication.
    One thing I haven't seen yet and would love to find out
more about is the place where the clones are bred and formed. Especially since
it hits so close to home for me.
    After sneaking through the apartment and out the door,
I plod down the darkened hallway, the slab flooring cold on my bare feet, my
steps silent as I limp along awkwardly.
    I try my best not to think much about what I once was.
I have no regrets about how I got my injuries. I cared for Cray then, but
since, I have grown to love him more than anything. I would gladly sacrifice my
body and even my life for him. Still, it hurts to remember the things I was
able to do – the speed and the strength. I still have them, but just walking
down the hallway is difficult now. If I tried to draw on my body’s reserves too
often, I don’t know what would happen, but I fear eventually tearing myself
apart.
    It all happened so fast, the grenade in the air, the
look of terror and realization on Cray’s face. I knew in a