Page 348 of Immune

Beautiful.

Wet.

Surprised.

I bite harder.

The woman shouts and the rifle guard raises his weapon. The man tries to wrench away, but I keep my teeth locked until blood floods my mouth, hot and coppery and disgusting.

Then I spit it in his face.

“Call that responsive, you bitch,” I rasp.

My voice sounds like the old sound of a car driving over gravel, but it’s totally worth it, even as the guard backhands me. Pain cracks across my cheek, bright enough to make the room tilt. The bonds flare so sharply I almost choke.

Ewan.

Kaito.

Fletcher.

Closer. Definitely closer. Unless I really am hallucinating. That would suck. If I am hallucinating, my hallucinations are extremely angry and smell faintly like murder. It’s the prettiest smell I have ever inhaled.

A siren chirps once somewhere outside and everyone freezes.

One short sound, then nothing.

“What was that?” the rifle guard asks.

The woman turns toward the camera screen. “Infected in cage three.”

The bored man clamps a hand over the bite on his wrist. “It malfunctioned yesterday.”

A light above the door flickers.

Once.

Twice.

Then dies.

The room is flooded with a red emergency glow.

My heart kicks hard.

Outside, someone screams.

Not Zed.

Human.

Brief.

Cut off.

The woman’s face changes and I start laughing. It hurts a little, but what doesn’t right now? I laugh anyway, right before I rasp, “Oh, shit. Looks like you really should run.”

The rifle guard points his weapon at me. “Shut up.”