Read Online Shining in Crimson: Empire of Blood Book One (A Dystopian Vampire Novel) by Robert S. Wilson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert S. Wilson
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The pain in his ribs grew worse, but he was pretty sure it was the vampire blood healing him. He turned in a complete circle, scanning the debris on the floor for his backpack. When he found it, he knelt down to the floor and unzipped it. Rummaging through the backpack for the thermos, he found and opened it, making the usual sour face as he forced himself to take a big gulp. Then, he closed the thermos and put it back in the bag.
A few excruciating minutes later, Hank's ribs seemed as good as new. If he had been absolutely sure the vampire who just attacked him was dead for good or there weren't possibly others coming, he would have sat in awe of his circumstances. But the need to flee electrified his every nerve. He put the backpack on, jumped through the gaping hole in the back of the house, and ran westbound. It wasn't until Hank barely missed smacking into a stop sign fast enough to end it all that he realized his ability to run had also been intensified. He looked back at the house he had run from, zooming in to make sure it was the right one. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen blocks he had crossed in a matter of less than a minute.
He wondered how long it would take him to make it to the edge of the city at the rate he’d just run. He was pretty sure at that speed he wouldn't need to wait for the dawn. Overwhelmed with excitement by this thought, he acted on it by breaking into another all-out run. He counted the blocks as he passed them. The wind was blowing on his body as rapidly as it had riding on Toby’s motorcycle. It was soothing to feel on his face and arms. He thought he was starting to get the hang of it when just after the 47 th block his right foot hit the inside edge of a pothole. He catapulted up and to the right, slamming violently into a telephone pole. He fell back down onto the sidewalk with a loud crunch. After a few minutes of not being able to move, Hank rolled himself over slowly and painfully. Evidently vampire blood could do just about anything except improve coordination.
After a while of staring up at a dim, yellow street light, Hank sat up and positioned himself against the pole that just broke his right collarbone, wrist, and knee. It was excruciating just to move, but he managed. Then he sat, waiting for the healing to finish. It was going much slower this time. Right as the pain went away, so did the feeling of power. He rose with great effort. Even though he was healed now, he still felt pretty bad. Hank tried dashing forward experimentally. His legs moved just as slowly as always. He sighed. His best guess told him there were probably only three or four more good gulps left.
Hank fought the urge to take another swig immediately. If that bastard wasn't dead or more were to show up, he would need what precious little bit he had left at his disposal. He looked back to the east. So far, no one seemed to follow him. He walked on the sidewalk at a light pace to the west, pulling the backpack in front of him and opening it. When he found one of the cans of chicken noodle soup and the can opener, he pulled them both out, opened the can, and threw the lid down on the road. Then he started walking again, taking a large swig of broth from the can. It might not have been the tastiest thing on earth, but it sure seemed so to him at the moment. When the broth was drained, he began knocking back the can so noodles and bits of chicken went into his mouth. He chewed them victoriously, grinning all the while. It sure beat the taste of vampire blood. When he gobbled the last bit, he threw down the can and retrieved the water thermos from the bag. He took several decent swigs. For a brief second, he wondered where Toby was and what he was doing. Then, he made himself forget the thought and started walking a little faster.
* * *
When Peter woke up, his entire abdomen screamed in absolute fury. He could feel nothing below the pain but a slight pulling. He opened his eyes to see one of his shoes
A few excruciating minutes later, Hank's ribs seemed as good as new. If he had been absolutely sure the vampire who just attacked him was dead for good or there weren't possibly others coming, he would have sat in awe of his circumstances. But the need to flee electrified his every nerve. He put the backpack on, jumped through the gaping hole in the back of the house, and ran westbound. It wasn't until Hank barely missed smacking into a stop sign fast enough to end it all that he realized his ability to run had also been intensified. He looked back at the house he had run from, zooming in to make sure it was the right one. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen blocks he had crossed in a matter of less than a minute.
He wondered how long it would take him to make it to the edge of the city at the rate he’d just run. He was pretty sure at that speed he wouldn't need to wait for the dawn. Overwhelmed with excitement by this thought, he acted on it by breaking into another all-out run. He counted the blocks as he passed them. The wind was blowing on his body as rapidly as it had riding on Toby’s motorcycle. It was soothing to feel on his face and arms. He thought he was starting to get the hang of it when just after the 47 th block his right foot hit the inside edge of a pothole. He catapulted up and to the right, slamming violently into a telephone pole. He fell back down onto the sidewalk with a loud crunch. After a few minutes of not being able to move, Hank rolled himself over slowly and painfully. Evidently vampire blood could do just about anything except improve coordination.
After a while of staring up at a dim, yellow street light, Hank sat up and positioned himself against the pole that just broke his right collarbone, wrist, and knee. It was excruciating just to move, but he managed. Then he sat, waiting for the healing to finish. It was going much slower this time. Right as the pain went away, so did the feeling of power. He rose with great effort. Even though he was healed now, he still felt pretty bad. Hank tried dashing forward experimentally. His legs moved just as slowly as always. He sighed. His best guess told him there were probably only three or four more good gulps left.
Hank fought the urge to take another swig immediately. If that bastard wasn't dead or more were to show up, he would need what precious little bit he had left at his disposal. He looked back to the east. So far, no one seemed to follow him. He walked on the sidewalk at a light pace to the west, pulling the backpack in front of him and opening it. When he found one of the cans of chicken noodle soup and the can opener, he pulled them both out, opened the can, and threw the lid down on the road. Then he started walking again, taking a large swig of broth from the can. It might not have been the tastiest thing on earth, but it sure seemed so to him at the moment. When the broth was drained, he began knocking back the can so noodles and bits of chicken went into his mouth. He chewed them victoriously, grinning all the while. It sure beat the taste of vampire blood. When he gobbled the last bit, he threw down the can and retrieved the water thermos from the bag. He took several decent swigs. For a brief second, he wondered where Toby was and what he was doing. Then, he made himself forget the thought and started walking a little faster.
* * *
When Peter woke up, his entire abdomen screamed in absolute fury. He could feel nothing below the pain but a slight pulling. He opened his eyes to see one of his shoes
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