Okay, I figured that I've teased you enough for now.
So, here they are, yes, THEY, I'm giving you TWO big fat sneak peaks at Odium Origins.
Mark your diaries, you gorgeously creepy lot, the countdown has officially begun...10 days to go!
Odium Origins out December 27th 2013.
The Street Rat.
“You got it?” Mikey shouts over to me.
I nod a yes, and stab the zombie in the head again, just to be sure. Always best to be sure. I learned the hard way on that
one. If I was ever squeamish about this shit, that ship has long since sailed. If anything, I find it a little fascinating these days—the way the blood has blackened and congealed, yet the brain is still idling. I guess that’s the wannabe doctor in me. Not for the first time in the last six months, I think of my parents—well, I think of my pops, more precisely. My mom can go
rot for all I care. Even though he left me for dead, I hope he’s alive somewhere. I guess in a way I hope Mom is alive too; if she isn’t, then Pops will probably have given up and be rotting away somewhere. That or he’ll be one of these things.
“Crunch, it’s fucking dead—again,” he adds. “What are you staring at?”
I look up at Mikey. “Just wondering what makes them, I don’t know, tick?”
“Who cares?” He shrugs.
“I do, I guess.” I shrug too and stand up. “I mean, is it a disease or what?”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters because…” My words trail off when I see his bored expression. Dude has no time for any of the technical stuff.
Like a true macho man, he sees it, he kills it, he moves on. No discussion, no thought process. Like a fucking caveman.
“Look, we’re alive, they’re dead. We need to kill them before they kill us. It’s simple. Don’t overthink it.” He looks
serious for a change. “I can’t figure you out. One minute you’re tough and the next you’re soft. I can’t figure out who’s protecting who.”
I pause, letting his words sink in. Normally I’d come back with some smart-ass remark, but my heart isn’t in it today. “Let’s
get going.” I walk away with a huff.
“I’m sorry if that offends you,” he calls after me.
I turn back around and see another zombie coming out from behind some trees. “Move out of the way,” I shout—unnecessarily, since the zombie isn’t close enough to actually hurt him. Mikey steps out of my way regardless and I charge
at the zombie, remembering all the times Pops had gotten me to train and use these weapons. I’m not just a street rat, I’m
a motherfucking warrior child. I jump up into the air and bring down both my kukris on either side of the zombie’s neck, landing with a soft thud in a crouching position. The head falls from the zombie’s shoulders and rolls over
to Mikey’s feet, the eyes still blinking up at him.
“Does that answer your question?” I snap and walk away again.
“Fuck me!” he mumbles.
“Johnathon Timothy Daily, you are found guilty of first degree assault with a deadly weapon. You are therefore sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment, with the chance of parole after a serving a minimum of eight years.” The judge
looks down at the papers in his hands before looking back up to me, his cool gray eyes full of disdain.“I can’t tell you how disappointed I am that someone of your caliber could do such a thing. For whatever reason, on July seventh, you decided to take matters into your own hands, not only attacking a man before finding out if he was actually guilty of the crime which you were accusing him of, but using a heavy object to repeatedly beat him into unconsciousness.”
The courtroom erupts into whispers around me. Maybe they think I’m lucky, maybe they think Mr. Fucking Davies is lucky that I didn’t kill him. I don’t know and I don’t care. That’s wrong—I do care, but it doesn’t mean I’d change a damn thing about what I did. My cheap shirt sticks to my muscles, making me even more uncomfortable, my anger making me sweat.
“Silence!” Judge Corresdone yells and slams his gavel down onto the wood block repeatedly. “You have left me no choice
but to carry out this sentence, since you have shown no remorse whatsoever for your actions. If it were not for Mr. Davies’ neighbor calling the police, I do not think you would have stopped until he was dead. Fortunately for you, the police
arrived in time to stop you from committing an even further barbaric assault on an otherwise innocent man.”
I slam my fists against the small desk in front of me, my chains rattling, and grind my teeth, my anger bubbling to the
surface. No, I wouldn’t have stopped. That asshole deserved everything he got. I look across at him, his smug face leering back at me.
“Mr. Daily?” Judge Corresdone shouts my name and I look up at him through hate-filled eyes. “If it wasn’t for your
background serving your country, you would be receiving a much longer sentence, so be grateful for that.” He eyes me
with disappointment and a shake of his head. “Guards, escort Mr. Daily away.”
I turn to look at Amy, tears pouring silently down her cheeks. Ben, our son, is nowhere to be seen—probably with Amy’s mother. I would have liked to see him one more time before I’m sent away; who knows when I’ll be able to see him again.
I shake my head, all the anger deflating, and self-pity filling the emptiness left behind. I don’t regret doing what I did,
but I do regret that I won’t get to watch my son grow up. He’ll be eleven when I get out, and he won’t know me. Tears fill my own eyes as the guards approach. I blow a kiss to Amy, and mouth that it’ll be all right. But we both know that’s a
lie. I won’t allow her to wait for me. Eight years is too long. She’s a beautiful, young, intelligent woman, and I’m not going to let her waste her life waiting for me.
The guards lead me away, out the back of the courtroom, down some steps, and to the waiting van outside. I step up and inside it, and as the doors shut behind me I say goodbye to my life.
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