Friction (The Frenzy Series Book 4) by Casey L. Bond Page B

watching the blood drip down.
    Splatters on the carpet.
    I looked to Pierce, a warm, crimson tear falling from my eye. “No. You deserved this,” I told him.
    His chest didn’t rise. His heart wasn’t beating. He was gone.
    I took a step backward.
    I stared out the broken window, stepping over Lydia, over her head and through the crunching broken glass, smeared with her blood. Outside it was late afternoon. The sun shone on the blanched bodies floating below. It shone on the flowers in the field, the daisies and violets. And it shone on the four people running toward The Manor: Tage, Saul, Roman, and my sister. My sister .
    They can’t see me like this.
    They will see what I’ve done.
    What I am.
    What I’m capable of.
    And it will break me.
    Or I will break them...
    Run.

 
     

     

     
    Running was effortless, like breathing. In. Out. Left. Right. Being a night-walker felt amazing. Roman ran in front of our group. “The Manor is just ahead!” he shouted.
    And it was. The flattened land gave way to a small knoll, and on it sat a stone home that was castle-like. The sun burned my eyes, but it didn’t dull my sense of smell, and the stench that hit my nose almost knocked me down. I stopped. Cupping my face, I asked, “What is that?”
    Mercedes was in the same shape. She eased the collar of her shirt over the bottom half of her face, her eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun. Roman wasn’t affected by the light at all. Was it because he’d been a night-walker before?
    He sniffed the rancid air and gagged. “It’s coming from the bridge,” he said, pointing ahead of us. Walking forward, we soon found what the scent was. It was rot and decay, but not from the Infected. There were human corpses littering a large ditch that surrounded the main house. The cloudy dark water had a film across its surface, only broken by the insects that skimmed across it. All shades of skin, all walks of life, all ages were made equal in the cruelty of their deaths and in the manner in which they were discarded. Like garbage tossed out of a house, they lay still in the water.
    Mercedes’ eyes began watering, blood flowing from the corners. “I need to get out of here,” she breathed, stumbling across the wooden bridge.
    Tage nodded and helped her across. Roman and I ran around them before stopping at the sight of the front door opening. A woman emerged, human and so dirty she didn’t smell human at all.
    She screamed, “I did what she said! Let me go!”
    “What who said?” Roman asked.
    “The night-walker who freed me. She said to let the other humans go.”
    “What humans?” I asked, but the answer to my question came before he could voice the words. Covered with anything they could find: curtains, towels, or pillowcases, people began pouring out from around both sides of the house, running on bare feet. Desperation filled the air.
    Men, women, and children; old and young, starved and dirty. Mercedes growled, baring her fangs at them. The women pulled their children close and screamed, backing away from her. Tage held her back from them. “We need to get inside and away from them.”
    He stared at me. “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah.” But was I? I didn’t feel hunger. A sense of sorrow filled me up. Watching the emaciated try to garner the strength to leave this place was too much. They needed help.
    Roman opened the main door as Tage pulled Mercedes along. I followed them into The Manor. While Roman and Tage tried to calm Mercedes, I slipped away, walking up the steps. I could smell her.
    Her scent was almost masked by the iron scent of blood, but it was there. She was near. At the landing, I stepped over the bodies of two women wearing enormous dresses. Following the trail of blood leading down the hallway, I found her in a bedroom, soaked in blood. The pale dress she’d worn was soaked through, the hem of it dripping and the droplets splashing the floor and the tops of her bare feet.
    When she sensed me, she