Chapters (26)
- Contents
- Title Page
- Books By Jason D. Morrow
- Note to the Reader
- Chapter 1 - Waverly
- Chapter 2 - Remi
- Chapter 3 - Waverly
- Chapter 4 - Waverly
- Chapter 5 - Remi
- Chapter 6 - Remi
- Chapter 7 - Waverly
- Chapter 8 - Waverly
- Chapter 9 - Remi
- Chapter 10 - Remi
- Chapter 11 - Waverly
- Chapter 12 - Remi
- Chapter 13 - Waverly
- Chapter 14 - Waverly
- Chapter 15 - Remi
- Chapter 16 - Waverly
- Chapter 17 - Remi
- Chapter 18 - Remi
- Chapter 19 - Waverly
- About Jason D. Morrow
- Books By Jason D. Morrow
- Links
Neither Ethan nor I answer him, but we gather around. He opens a satchel he found in the front seat and pulls out a flashlight as the hatchback of the SUV opens. He flips up a small compartment and what we see makes Ethan light up. Gilbert reaches down and pulls out a shiny rifle that looks as if it has never been fired. This hidden compartment is full of guns and ammunition. No doubt it will help the group and all, but I don’t want any part of it. We aren’t used to carrying weapons like these. At least I’m not.
Lucas and I had always avoided using guns. Firing one only meant drawing in more greyskins. Sure, they were good for blowing away a few at a time, but the sound carries so far, there is no way a greyskin wouldn’t hear it and come running.
When Gilbert is done gawking at the firearms, we finally start gathering wood for the fire and within an hour, the front of me toasts warmly while my back is nearly frozen.
The three of us sit in silence as the fire eats away at the wood, falling into smoldering coals that give off a heat warm enough to make my brow sweat. The moon illuminates the cold fog that lingers throughout the trees in the forest and the flickering flames cast our shadowed forms along the trunks. I try not to look into the trees at all. Despite the security they bring, shielding us from curious eyes, I hate how little I can see into the distance. I hate the trees because I never know what might be lurking behind them. That’s why I keep my eyes on the fire.
As we sit, all I can think about is Lucas. It pains me to know it, but I doubt there is anything left of him now. The greyskins devour every bit of a fresh body. I often wonder how there can be so many greyskins in the world when they eat so many of their victims. I suppose there are so many people that escape the fate of being completely eaten, only to be scratched or bitten, the poisonous saliva or blood mixing with theirs.
How could all of this have happened? How could humanity be reduced to an existence of mere survival within a span of three years? How had this disease spread so rapidly?