The Infected (Book 6): Last Shot by Justin Gowland

tighter. This seemed to go on forever till I begged to kill the child. Knowing in my heart that I would never be able to, but I might be able to free her from her bonds. The hands faded and I staggered upright. With wobbling legs, I staggered to the child. She had a cloth over her eyes and mouth. She was no older than four or five, had the darkest hair I have ever seen. Her dress might have been yellow at one time but was so filthy you might never have known. Her small legs were just as dirty and she was barefoot.
    “How am I going to kill her?” I asked to the darkened room.
    A large hunting knife was slid out of the darkness. I picked it up and looked at the handle and saw a cross of bone inlaid into it.
    “One strike.” The darkness said. “One strike is the only chance you will get.”
    I raised the knife and for anyone looking it looked like I was about to plunge the knife into the poor girls head. My hand struck downward but at the last second my hand moved and I sliced through the bounds tying the girl to the chair.
    “Run quickly!” I shouted turning my back to her. Hoping the hands would return whilst I had the knife.
    “That is most unfortunate.” The darkness said right before something landed on my back growling in my ear.
    I turned my head slightly as I fell and saw the little girl grasping my shoulder. Her eyes were gone and her mouth was filled with rotten stumps. She pulled back opening her mouth so wide I thought I might fall in. Her head came down so quickly all I could do was scream. I fell forward with the feeling that the skin on my neck and shoulder was being torn away in chunks.
    I woke with sweat streaming into my good eye and my head felt like I had a jackhammer instead of a brain inside. Rolling to the side of the bed I screamed out loud in pain. I had rolled over onto my injured elbow. I rolled quickly onto the other side of the bed and I threw up everything that was in my stomach which was much more than bile and stomach juices. I rolled onto my back whilst trying to calm my rolling stomach. The burning in my throat made me feel like throwing up again. Slowly I opened my good eye and stared at the ceiling. The smell of the sick beside the bed made my stomach roll again. I sat up quickly and shuffled to the bottom of the bed and stood up. The room spun and I ended up sitting back down quickly. Taking my time I tried standing and then took baby steps toward the bathroom. Turning I sat on the toilet and held my head in my hands. The room had stopped spinning and my head started to clear. When I felt that I could stand and not fall over I looked into the mirror. My eye was still swollen shut and the bruising still covered most of that side of my face, but it did seem to have faded slightly. Shaking my head, I stripped and turned on the shower. Ten minutes later I felt better and was climbing into my clothes when I heard a knock at the door. Trying hard not to hurt my arm as I pulled on my t-shirt I opened the door and Amy was scowling back at me.
    Running my hand through my hair I mumbled “Morning Amy!”
    She stood there looking at me and she looked as if she wanted to fight me just like Chris. The only difference in that was that I doubted that I would be able to stop her, at least not in my current state.
    “Fuck you’re good morning!”
    ‘Oh, shit!’ I thought.
    “Look, Amy, just get it over with so I can clean up my puke.”
    That shocked her; it took her a few seconds to think her way around that. “Do you know how much trouble you have caused?” she asked.
    I shrugged my shoulders “To tell you the truth I don’t have a fucking clue what you are going on about. Mind you everything I have done lately according to you has caused heartache and pain.”
    “This isn’t a joking matter.”
    “Look I know that all women think that men can read minds, but we fucking don’t! So why don’t you tell me what’s got you all bent out of shape?” I asked slowly getting pissed off