Dead World (Book 1): The Impetus by Jacob Mollohan Page B

meal out of it. The last thing he notices and the worst part are the eyes. They are dead and blank, staring right at him as if John is the next meal.
    The reports of cannibalism come back echoing through his head. He assumed it was a lack of accurate information. But here staring right at him is cold hard proof.
    “You’re hurt.” He takes a step forward, steeling himself to apprehend the young man and bring him in. “I need to bring you into the hospital and we’ll deal with disturbing the peace later.”
    John knows he has at least 30 pounds on the kid, and it looks like he is not going to be moving too fast either. John takes another step forward around the door of his police car. The spinning lights cast a crazy red and blue hue on the entire cul-de-sac, saturating the blood in Hollywood hues.
    He walks toward the boy and puts his hands out to show him the cuffs. “I’m going to put these on you OK?” He is only feet away from him now.
    With a sudden violent lurch the boy springs forward with speed John didn’t think was possible. Before he can react the kid has him off balance and John steps back heavily trying to right himself.
    The boy doesn’t stop though. He lunges forward grabbing John’s arm and pulling it too his disgusting face. Before John can pull his arm away the kid latches his teeth into the skin of his forearm. John screams in pain as he falls back against the car. Several doors open and spill more light into the street as neighbors check on what’s happening.
    Adrenaline is flowing now. John rolls to his feet. He uses his considerable weight to knock the smaller man to the ground and pins him with an arm behind his back. The kid strains so hard that he can feel the bone in his shoulder dislocate from the force.
    John holds him in place as best he can while he tries to get the cuffs on the boy and after a few agonizing moments he hears the click as the lock slides home. The whole time the boy is twisting his neck and snapping his teeth trying to take another bite out of him.
    The only thing that comes to John’s mind is zombies. He’s seen a few movies with his son, stuff like Night of the Walking Dead, and this is always how the victims acted; those lifeless eyes and the desire to feast on the living. But this is too much.
    Fear grips his chest. His hands feel heavy. In the movies they spread that shit with bites.
    John grunts a laugh. Those are just movies.
    He forces the kid to stand and walks him to the car being careful not to get bitten again. When he is finally inside the car he slams the door on the boy’s face no longer caring if the kid gets injured.
    Whatever the hell is going on he knows he needs to get back to headquarters and talk to his chief. This has to be something big if people are acting up like this going on in other parts of the city. He imagines what it would be like to have dozens, hundreds of people out of their mind. There is no way the police could stop them. Not without deadly force.
    John gets behind the wheel of his car and turns the lights off. The boy is still snapping at him in the back seat. Straining his face against the bulletproof glass to get at him.
    “Calm down.” He yells back at him. His patience is all used up. He wasn’t even supposed to be out tonight and now he has an injury that burns like fire in his arm and he is going to have paper work that makes the injury pale in comparison.
    Angrily he starts the car and jerks the steering wheel into a turn. There is a throbbing pain in his arm and his head feels light. He races down the street and takes a sharp left onto Joliet, headed back to his station. The last thing he remembers, before he loses consciousness and his car slams into a tree, is the sound of the boy struggling to escape the back seat.
    His car swerves, narrowly missing a snarl of traffic before wrapping around an old elm tree. Smoke pours from the wreck.
    A few people stop to call the police, the irony that they are calling for a