Free The Last Plague by Rich Hawkins

room.
         There was a soft thud on the landing. The creak of a door.
        “We woke someone up,” said Magnus. 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
    CHAPTER NINETEEN
     
     
    The woman was on Frank’s heels, her ragged panting in his ears, draining the strength from his body. Part of him just wanted to fall down and let her take him.
         He didn’t look back.
         Almost full dark. Almost night. He ran past empty gardens and dark houses. His legs throbbed and screamed. His chest grew tighter as he went. Fear and adrenaline were a chemical mixture clouding his mind. His heartbeat was a metallic drumming in his ears.
         The woman screamed. He felt her foul hot breath on the back of his neck.
         Frank cried out. His body was jelly.
         He stumbled and tripped on a patch of uneven road, twisted and fell onto his back; the woman scrambled onto him, very eager and very hungry. He held the crowbar under her jaw and pushed to stop her from snapping her head forwards. Her mouth opened. Dull ivory teeth. He caught a whiff of hellish gingivitis. Her tongue was like a worm feeling for somewhere to burrow. She radiated a terrible, stinking heat. Her body was a sack of sharp bones straddling him. His cock went hard.
         The woman tried to claw at his eyes. He drew back the crowbar and hit her in the face. She fell back and Frank scrambled away from her, breathing hard, shifting awkwardly on his feet like an amateur fighter.
         The woman was on her knees. Skin came away from her legs, peeled by the road surface. She hissed at him through broken teeth. Her nose was smashed and broken, blood dribbling into her mouth and down her chin. Frank hadn’t meant to hit her that hard. He felt guilt and shame for hurting a woman.
         “I’m sorry,” he said.
         She began to get to her feet.
         “Please stop,” Frank said. “This can end now. It doesn’t have to be like this. You need medical attention.”
         She ignored him.
         “Please stay down. Stay back.” His pleading tone made no difference to her.
         The woman stood. She opened her mouth, her jaws clicking. Her face was monstrous in the growing dark. She took a step towards him, a great tension building in her body. A low growl emanated from her throat.
         “Don’t come any closer,” said Frank, retreating two steps. “I’ve already warned you. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to help you.”
         She lurched towards him, arms outstretched.
         It happened so quickly. Time seemed to speed up. All he could see was her leering bloodied face coming towards him.
         Frank hit her again with the crowbar. She collapsed at his feet. The back of her skull hit the tarmac with a dull, porcelain crack. Blood pooled underneath her head.
         The world went askew. Gravity pressed down on Frank’s shoulders. A sense of surrealism washed over him.
         “I had to defend myself,” he said. “I had to…”
         The woman wasn’t moving. Her eyes remained open, staring into his face.
         “I didn’t mean to hurt you; it was an accident. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
         He covered his mouth with one hand. His eyes stung with tears. He muttered and cursed under his breath, shaking his head slowly.
         No matter how disturbed and insane she had been, she was a woman. A human being. And he had killed her.
         “What have I done?” he whispered, staring at the woman’s cooling corpse, until the sharp cold air bit at his face and he regained his senses.
         Noises drifted towards him over the gentle wind. He looked around the street.
         Shapes and scurrying forms were emerging from their dark holes and silent places, gibbering and hungry.
         They saw Frank.
         Frank ran.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
    CHAPTER