Z Children (Book 1): Awakening by Eli Constant, B.V. Barr Page B

I watched
as the boy obeyed quickly. I wanted to switch places with him, hunker down in
safety and let someone else handle the dirty work. A stream of unladylike
expletives ran through my brain as I turned to the little monster outside the too-thin
glass. I wasn’t exactly confident that I could pull a  proverbial rabbit
out of my hat and not die in the process, but I was ready to give it the old
college try. Maybe I’d feel a bit more confident if I’d actually finished
college instead of dropping out junior year to follow an ex-boyfriend to Texas.
Water under the bridge though; business classes were behind me and in front of
me was… a rabid and hungry little hazy-eyed bastard. I lowered the window a
little and stuck the .38 outside. My wrist ached as I held the handgun at an
awkward angle trying to point the barrel right at the monster boy.
    My eyelids
clamped shut and reopened involuntarily and a scream left my mouth as the vile
child locked his hand around the barrel of the gun. He shook it wildly,
standing on tiptoes and smashing his mouth against the narrow crack between
window glass and door frame. I pulled the trigger. The boy’s hand, which
covered the bullet’s exit point from the barrel, blew into a dozen chunks of
flesh and blackening blood. His primal scream made me wince and I wanted to
distance myself from the small splatters of stray blood that dripped down the
interior window pane, but I stayed firm, kept the gun in position and ready to
fire a second round.
    Recovering from
the injury, he lunged back at the T-bird, more determined than ever to satisfy
his hunger. Unfortunately for him, his mouth wrapped around the gun barrel just
as I squeezed off another shot. The sound was an explosion this time, somehow
amplified by the position of the barrel in the boy’s mouth. It was deafening,
sickening, as the cacophony of sound accompanied brain matter blowing from the
monster kid’s head and outward to spatter the surrounding parking lot. I closed
my eyes by my own volition this time and tried to steady myself, center myself,
ready myself to leave the relative safety of the car and get the shotgun. I
watched the boy’s body fall backwards toward the hard ground. As soon as he was
motionless, I made my brain forget he was there, forget that he existed.
    The sight of
another dead child was numbing, but somehow, beneath the cold response of my
heart, I knew that gazing too long at the small frame and lifeless eyes would
threaten to put me over the edge.  My hands shaking, I pulled the .38 back
into the car, and set it down gingerly on the middle console. I hated it. I
hated that I wanted to pick it up again. Just in case . It only had three
rounds left in it though.
    Without looking
at my handiwork again, I hopped out of the car, grabbed the shotgun, and placed
it lovingly on the dash of the car. I’d thought about tossing it onto the back
seat with the rest of the gear, but a prize this hard-won needed to be revered.
Plus… easy freaking access if I needed to blow a hole in another
kid-turned-killer. I wasn’t about to leave it out of reach.
    Driving away
from the sheriff’s station was like leaving purgatory and finding freedom. But
even then, I was more scared than I ever had been in my entire life and I
didn’t breathe easier until Marty and I were cruising down the highway at 60
MPH.
    Driving the big
Ford on the highway was like floating on air and the old school AC kept the
interior cool and comfortable- comfortable enough to put the young boy to
sleep. I should have had him move back onto the seat and buckle up, but I’d
been so relieved to be alive that I hadn’t thought about road safety. I’d pull
over soon, rouse the boy and have him sit properly, but for now, he looked too
damn peaceful sound asleep on the floorboards; let him have a moment of
dreamland. I swallowed, reflecting on what the boy could be dreaming. More
likely than not, his mind was a prisoner of nightmares instead of the