Kiera Hudson & the Lethal Infected
“A cork had been wedged into the neck. Holding the bottle up, I watched the thick, red liquid slosh against the sides of the bottle. It was a lighter colour than blood, but thicker. I pulled out the cork and held the bottle up to my nose. I sniffed the contents. It smelt sickly sweet just as I remembered it to be. But there was a difference. To smell it didn’t make my stomach lurch with hunger. And as I replaced the cork, I realised for the first time since being pushed again, that I no longer c...raved blood like I had once before. But my past lust for blood had been because of the cracks breaking out all over my flesh. That flesh had been dead and it had needed blood or Lot 13 to keep it supple – to give it some kind of life.
But what about my friends? I thought, placing the bottle back onto the desk where it had been left for me. Did they still need to drink Lot 13 in this where and when? Did they still have the hunger? I knew that all of them used to go half-crazy if they didn’t drink Lot 13 regularly.MoreLess
But what about my friends? I thought, placing the bottle back onto the desk where it had been left for me. Did they still need to drink Lot 13 in this where and when? Did they still have the hunger? I knew that all of them used to go half-crazy if they didn’t drink Lot 13 regularly.MoreLess
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