Crow Eaters – The Complete Collection – Zachariah Dracoulis

It had a very liminal space kind of feel that had me regularly reminding myself that no matter what, it had to end somewhere. The girls on the other hand? They loved it. “It’s so quiet down here,” Hope murmured in awe, “like, there’s just nothing.” “Right?” Morgan said with an eager nod, “We could be a million miles from anything.” “Let’s hope not.” I half-heartedly chuckled before spotting our first sign of rat activity, “We’ve got slime.”

Both Hope and Morgan let out sounds of disgust as I shined my flashlight on the smeared snot-like goo on the ground just ahead of us, and I honestly couldn’t blame them. If they weren’t there, I’d probably have let out a schoolgirl-tier ‘eeeew’ the instant I’d seen it. “And just like that, the tunnels have lost their appeal.” Morgan muttered, “Have to be close now…” Nodding in agreeance, I moved us closer to the wall of the rounding tunnel and started being more conscious of where I was aiming my flashlight.

It was silly, the rats being blind and all, but in the moment it felt like being a little silly was better than being a lot dead. One foot in front of the other, I hugged the curving wall and waited for something to go wrong. A zip to clink against the concrete, a sneeze to blast down the tunnels, whatever.

Again, I was being overly cautious, especially considering we’d been gabbing up a storm the entire time up to that point. I never got to feel too goofy though, the curve straightening out revealing a small pack of four rats sleeping in a cluster within throwing distance of the corner doing a good job of wiping out the self-doubt. God, I hated Tacpocalypse’s rats. They were about the size of a moped and twice as hideous, like some forsaken blend of axolotl, capybara, and turkey.

Patches of blonde, matted fur was splattered across their semi- translucent weird lumpy bodies, like moss growing from their oozing scales. Pretty fucked up, right? As to why they were called ‘rats’, I had no idea, I just assumed it was some lore-based colloquialism like ‘clanker’ or ‘jackal’.

“Watch the back end,” I whispered, aiming my rifle at one of the rats’ powerful rear legs and thick tail as we approached, “we’ll each take one, then focus the last one.”

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. Cover designed by The Spritely Faun This book is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. OceanofPDF.com For John, Don’t worry, I’m sure the next one will be better OceanofPDF.com Crow Eaters First Run By Zachariah Dracoulis OceanofPDF.com T CHAPTER 1 he previous night’s storm clung to the hot midday air with a vengeance as I made my way through the derelict, Atlanta-like city.

Every step, look around, and throat clearing brought attention to another strap or piece of equipment that was making my hot and damp black fatigues bunch up or worse, scratch and chafe directly against my skin. “I mean, I get that we’ve got to have a uniform for safety or brand recognition or… whatever, but couldn’t we go with something better suited for the humidity?” I wondered aloud to my black poncho-wearing and as yet unnamed run partner after adjusting my pack and M4’s sling.

He’d been quiet since we’d left, going as far as to completely ignore my ‘Hey, I’m Crash’ self-introduction, leaving me with my hand out and without a name to call him. At first, I’d taken his grim stoicism as some kind of roleplaying or maybe even that he was just further along the social dipshit scale than me, but over time I’d steadily come to the conclusion that I’d probably been stuck with a bot.

As unsurprising as that would have been, what with it being my first run and all, I did kind of feel like I could’ve been trusted to watch someone’s back. Hell, I could have used a real set of eyes to back me up. I’d found myself doing that a lot since joining up with the Crows three days prior; I’d internally rationalize what I saw as a personal slight, then bitch about it.

In my defense, I’m pretty sure I’d started doing it so I had something to do to in between training bouts, which were mind-numbing in and of themselves.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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• File Extension: .pdf
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• Title: –
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• Pages: 134
• Language: English (en)

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