The Risen: Remnants Read Online Free PDF

trying to come for me again.
    The world escapes me. The blackness of night shrinks down to the dull, almost gray eyes staring at me. Genny’s screams are even slowed. Her syllables seem exaggerated as she pleads with me to run. I can’t run. Death will always find you when you run.
    With a resolve I would never have guessed I possessed, I stomp against the spot nestling the shard. My tennis shoe drives it further into his skull with each forceful act. All of my fear is gone now. Anger replaces it and I use it to give me strength.
    I am angry over being attacked. I am angry over how we must live now. I am angry that every day and night we fear these monsters finding us and what it could mean for us. Hot tears clear their way through the drying blood that cakes my face. My legs are being splashed with blood that is thicker than the many layers of my rage. Only when I have caused enough damage that the fragments of bone and gore rob me of the sight of his eyes do I stop. I am weak and exhausted, but mostly I’m still just angry.

Chapter 4
    T he once faded white and serene angel now wears a gown of darker markings. The dark crimson spots are starting to drip down, casting her in a new role. This angel of mourning now walks as an angel of death with the blood and thicker clumps clinging to her hem and feet. A fine mist of red has flowed into the inscription at her feet, highlighting the once hidden words.
    Stand not before me and weep. Let not your wails of mourning fill the air around me. For of this life’s suffering I am free. Soon all will join me and we will rejoice in our victory.
    The blood gathers, hovering in the artistic loops of the words before dripping out in small rivers, staining the base. I can’t help but to think with envy to myself of how lucky those are that were able to escape before it began.
    “I thought I told you to stay inside?” These were not the first words she sought to hear from me and her mood proves that.
    “I couldn’t just sit in there when I heard you screaming. Sorry.” Tears of anger over my attitude and her released fears begin to streak her face.
    I don’t remember screaming when they first attacked me. Her trembling body shaking with her emotions proves that I must have.
    I whisper to her with my eyes trying to fight against the many shadows. “We have to get back. There should be one more somewhere.”
    “I took care of him.” At first, her whispered words do not make sense. She can’t possibly mean that she was face-to-face with one of these things. She can’t be telling me that she was in danger while I sought to keep her safe. She can’t mean that while I was ready to die, she was fighting to survive. Not my precious child.
    “He was stunned and stumbling around. He never noticed me. I’ve seen you take them out before….” Her words trail off, losing their security against my blank glare. My eyes wide and still like that of the angel stare at her, fighting against my feelings.
    “How?” We ask so many questions that we don’t really want to know the answers to in life.
    “He was still back along the crypts where some of the markers are just wooden crosses. I used one.” She shrugs as if killing these monsters is just another Monday chore to do before homework.
    Giggles bubble forth as I picture my Genny standing behind the male monster with a wooden cross raised high like an over-played vampire hunter in a novel. I didn’t mean to mock her bravery or the very real risk she took. Sometimes stress has its own agenda.
    Using the only monster hunter I have knowledge of that compares to whatever these things are that hunt us, I ask her, “You staked a zombie?”
    “Not exactly.” She says, her anger melting to her own giggles with stress relief.
    “Buffy has nothing on you, kiddo.” I tease her, bringing up her once favorite T.V. show.
    “Dunno. I could totally go for an Angel about now.” Her smile is enough to make me cringe with the knowledge of her