Wormwood Dawn (Episode IV) Read Online Free PDF Page A

the room. He was dressed in rags, covered in mud and puke, and was disheveled and wild-looking. He was not a Shuffler or a Shambler, simply a man who had apparently just been infected. He laid prone, moaning and groaning in pain, gagging and retching as vomit streamed from his curled lips.
    “H—help… m—me…” the man whispered.
    Dan stood still, confused and ready to defend himself. The man turned his face toward him, and Dan could see that his eyes were ablaze with pain and terror. He was definitely infected, but had not yet succumbed to the pathogen. He was more like big tits, or the kid in the liquor store; feral, but still mostly human.
    “Stay back,” Dan warned him, backing away.
    The man puked on the floor, curling up and clutching his stomach as the sickening fluid glopped on the floor. He rose up to his hands and knees, growling in pain as mucus dripped from his nose.
    “Help me,” he pleaded. “Please.”
    “Fuck off,” Dan replied.
    The man got up on his knees, raising his head back to sob at the ceiling. Dan could see something around his neck; a necklace perhaps, maybe a medallion. He looked closer, stepping forward cautiously, the ax out in front of him.
    It was a small zipper bag with a single, white caplet inside. A Vicodin?
    Dan’s heart jumped. Vicodin was white, and shaped like that. Exactly like that, and the exact same size. Oh, how good it would be to pop that and chase the pain away. He stepped forward, eager to reach out and pluck the bag from the string. But the man screamed, and rolled away when he saw the ax.
    “ What are you doing?” the man shouted. “Help me.”
    Dan was torn. He could kill the guy and take the Vicodin, or just wait for him to die; if he even would die. He could suddenly attack once the infection took hold, just like the loonies in Bloomington. In that case, killing him would make no difference. He was fucked anyway. Chopping his head off would be a mercy killing.
    Maybe he would wait…
    No. It was inevitable. The guy was going to turn. There was no question about that. Why risk becoming infected when he could just end the guy’s misery—and his own—with a single chop?
    “I’m sorry, dude,” Dan said, stepping forward and raising the ax.
    “ Wait!” the man protested, shuffling back and holding out his hands. “I’m not one of them. I swear!”
    He knelt down and puked again, and Dan could see the feral look grow worse on the man’s face as he turned to look up at him. Dan held his breath and closed his eyes.
    “ No!” the man begged.
    Dan chopped.
    He felt the ax split the man’s skull, and heard the sickening splat as his brains fell to the floor. When he opened his eyes, he ignored the gruesome sight and knelt down to grab the baggy. He pulled it off, holding it in front of his eyes like Gollum finding the One Ring.
    “Myyyyyyy preciousssss,” he hissed.
    He dropped the ax and tore the baggy open, holding the pill in the light to read its imprint.
    M357.
    “Fucking yes,” he whispered, gulping down the pill and scooting away.
    He crawled back into the alcove, folding up into a ball again, eagerly awaiting the comforting wave of opiate Heaven to spread over him.
    “Very impressive,” a ghostly voice whispered.
    Dan wasn’t sure whether the voice was real or not, and he didn’t care. The tingle was growing in his gut, slowly building into an almost orgasmic sensation that put a smile on his face. It was pure Nirvana, and nothing else in the world mattered.
    Not even the fact that he had murdered someone in cold blood.
     

Chapter Four
    Sunlight streamed in through the tiny window, waking Dan from his first peaceful night of sleep in days. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, sitting up and looking around his prison. It was clean again; with the remains of the infected man having been removed and the floor scrubbed.
    There was a recliner in the alcove, next to which stood a small end table with items scattered on it. Dan stood, still