Free Afterburn: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Next Book 1) by Scott Nicholson

eyes. The hair was cut in a bowl-like tonsure, although the thinnest section on top wasn’t completely bald. The Zap sported no facial hair, and its cheeks were smooth and supple-looking. The silvery suit disguised the features so well that Lars couldn’t identify its gender, but he tagged it as a male in his mind.
    That judgment was likely made in order to more easily justify killing it, but…whatever got the job done.
    Lars growled like an animal and raised his axe. He’d killed Zaps before, especially in the early days of the aftermath, but those had been snarling, violent man-mockeries intent on destroying every living thing. They were almost a pleasure to put down.
    But Lars hesitated, as if reluctant to cross the ten feet of stained carpet to his target. Not because he was afraid, but because he wasn’t. The Zap didn’t seem alarmed or aroused in any way, as if oblivious to the menace it faced. Lars hadn’t even seen a Zap in two years, and either he’d forgotten how they behaved, or this particular specimen was a new version of its kind.
    “Are you hurt?” he asked the woman, without turning his head.
    “Look at it,” she whispered, still huddled. “Those eyes .”
    As if she’d never seen a Zap before. Lars supposed that was possible, but no way could she survive five years without being aware of the threat.
    “How long have you been here?”
    “I don’t know. A week, maybe?”
    “How long has this been here?”
    “A few minutes.”
    Throughout the clipped conversation, the Zap didn’t move, and Lars wondered if it had somehow fallen asleep while standing. But those eyes were still open, not brilliant but bright enough to project a soft glow in front of its face.
    Lars took a moment to study the mutant’s suit. It seemed to be made of a single piece of material, like an infant’s sleeper, although Lars saw no sign of a zipper or buttons. It was almost as if the material had been sprayed on, or else the Zap had been dipped into a vat. But the suit didn’t cling closely enough to reveal sexual organs or body features.
    Even the age of the thing was difficult to guess, although Lars would put it at around thirty or so just on first impression, not from any visual cue. Just as he’d mentally decreed it a male, so he thought of it as an adult on the edge of middle age.
    “How did it find you?” Lars asked the woman, lowering the axe just a little but keeping a two-handed grip on the weapon’s handle. The mutant held no weapons of its own, and its hands dangled open-palmed at either hip. The fingers were slender and free of wrinkles.
    “I was…it followed me here.”
    The woman no longer sounded so terrified. He risked a glance back at her. She was dirty blond, her tangled hair streaked with gray. She wore a dark blue headband, a tan leather jacket, and frayed jeans—in another world, she might have been a hippie following the Grateful Dead on a concert tour. Lars sensed a hesitation in her words.
    What does she have to lie about?
    He reached for her, hoping to comfort her and assure her that he wasn’t just another murderer.
    The Zap moved with stunning speed, crossing the room before Lars even had time to whip his head back around. The Zap plowed into him with a shoulder, knocking him back against the dresser again and sending the axe spinning to the floor.
    Wood gave way with a crack that Lars hoped didn’t include his spine. Even as he struggled, Lars noticed the mutant’s body temperature was as cool as the surrounding air of the room.
    The material of the suit was so slick that Lars couldn’t get a grip on it, so he grabbed the only handle he could find—the mutant’s hair. Lars yanked, torqueing the Zap’s head backward so he could send a fist into its face. He half-expected the Zap to open its mouth and chomp, but its features were as impassive as before.
    Like a goddamned machine.
    But its flesh was soft, as determined by Lars’s fist, and there was bone beneath it. When he