The radio crackled against Sheriff Barke’s mouth. And though the microphone obscured his lips, Seth could see the smile in his eyes. The bastard thought he had Seth trapped. Cornered. Big mistake.

Seth shifted on his feet, glass crinkling beneath his shoes. He stared at the Sheriff, neither of them willing to make the first move. As he waited, tight lances of pain burned through his stomach, where Redding’s bullets had tunneled into him. The wounds slowly sealed themselves, flesh knitting itself back together. And one by one, the bullets wormed their way free and clattered to the floor.

Still, the Sheriff refused to make a move. A smart choice, considering he had backup on the way.

Mere feet away, Deputy Redding's body slouched over, still holding his gun.

Seth dove toward Redding and plied the pistol from his hands. The gun was a tiny thing, much lighter than Earl's revolver, and Seth almost crushed the plastic under his grip. He whipped it around and aimed at the Sheriff, but he was already gone, a swarm of moths fluttering past him.

Damn.

Glass crunched underfoot as Seth gave chase, back toward the lobby. He burst into an open office space, with desks lined up in neat rows. Seth briefly remembered Redding dragging him through here. It was only moments ago, but there had been deputies sitting at these desks, rifling through folders and typing on their computers. Now they were gone.

A shot rang out, and a bullet punched Seth’s shoulder, spinning him to the side. He cursed, ducking down and dodging back into the hall. He leaned against the doorframe and slowly peeked out. At first, he saw nothing. But then a flash of movement. A deputy, hiding behind a desk. And another to the side.

Seth waited a few seconds more, and though he didn’t spot anyone else, he was sure more were lying in wait. Too bad those bastards had stolen his dynamite. One stick would be enough to tear this office to shreds. Even so, Seth’s healing ability gave him the advantage. If he moved fast, he could probably avoid getting shot anywhere important.

That was the best way to handle things. Move fast. Don’t think. Kill everything.

Seth charged into the office, pistol raised. As soon as he left his cover, five deputies sprung up from behind their desks. Seth shot at the first one he’d seen. He spammed the trigger, squeezing out three shots in quick succession. The first shot missed, but the other two drilled into the deputy's neck. Blood sprayed into a fine mist, and the man spilled onto his desk, knocking over his computer monitor in the process.

A hail of gunfire tore into Seth’s side. He grimaced at the pain. The wounds stung, the bullets hot against his ribs. But Seth let the heat flow through him, his muscles coiling tight and full of energy. He charged to the side, sprinting around the perimeter of the room. As he ran, he fired into the crowd of deputies, aiming at no one in particular.

Two went down, blood spraying from myriad wounds. But then Seth’s gun clicked, the slide locking back. Empty. Seth dove beside a desk and pressed his back against the heavy wood. Bullets tore into the wall beside him, and puffs of plaster filled the air. The gunfire stopped moments later, the silence a stark contrast to the burst of action.

Seth held his breath and listened for movement. His side burned, and he could feel the bullets inching out of his skin. Blood dripped down his shirt. The good news was, these deputies didn’t know about his healing ability. Probably. Which meant they might assume he was already dead.

Sure enough, he heard movement. Soft footsteps. The rustle of clothing. The deputies moved slowly, methodically, inching their way around Seth’s cover. One around the side, another coming up behind the desk.

As soon as they were close, Seth reared his leg, thigh coiling into a core of dense muscle, and kicked the desk. The thick slab of wood turned into a missile, and it slammed into the deputy's waist. Bones crunched as he flew back, the force knocking him halfway across the office.

The other deputy fired at Seth. Her shots took him in the chest, one lodging right over his heart. That one hurt, sharp lances shooting up his nerves with every heartbeat. Seth cried out, and he chucked his spent pistol at her. The gun slapped her in the face, leaving a red pistol-shaped mark on her cheek.

She stumbled back, firing wildly, but her shots only peppered the carpet. While she was recovering, Seth strode forward and punched her chin. His fist knocked her jaw askew, and she fell over. Unconscious? Dead? Who gives a shit?

Seth leaned over, panting, and waited for his wounds to heal. Particularly the bullet over his heart, which throbbed with pain even as it healed. Once it was finished, he looted the deputy's pistol, then quickly reloaded it from the extra magazines on her belt.

Now, time to find that Sheriff. Seth continued through the office, reached the other side.

A gunshot rang out. Pain. In Seth’s spine, right below his shoulder blades. He tried to turn around, but his muscles fell limp. Unresponsive. Seth collapsed in a heap, arms and legs seizing. He couldn’t feel anything beneath the gunshot wound. Nothing but a tight knot where the bullet had bisected his spine.

“I got you,” Sheriff Barke said. He strode across the room, boots heavy against the carpeted floor. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you in alive. You caused a real mess on Eldridge Creek, and old Owen doesn’t take kindly to intruders turning his operation into a bloodbath. So he put a bounty on your head, and I intend to collect.”

Damn it. Seth closed his eyes and tried to steady himself. He could feel his healing ability trying to knit his spine back together. But the bullet was lodged tight, caught between two vertebrae, and the healing flesh couldn’t knock it loose.

The Sheriff grabbed Seth, lifted him in the air, and slammed him onto a desk. He barely felt the impact. Now he was face up, able to stare into the Sheriff’s eyes.

The man was a fool, and Owen was even worse. A bounty? Didn’t they know that Seth could never be contained? If they wanted him gone, they’d need to put a bullet in his head.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Seth opened Inkling. He still hadn’t allocated his free points since the last time he’d leveled up. Not because he’d forgotten to, but because he wasn’t sure where to put them. And perhaps it was better to wait until he needed them.

Right now, Seth needed to finish healing so he could kill this fucker. His FeelBetter ability rewarded him with ten Vigor. So Vigor must be tied to health, right? Well, he was about to find out. Seth pumped all four free points into Vigor, raising it to 23.

It was a slight bump, but as soon as Seth allocated the points, the bullet finally dislodged from his spine. The hot metal wormed its way out of his flesh, and his spine knit back together, the severed nerves splicing into a thick cord. Ribbons of muscle tied themselves into a nice bow over the top. Good as new.

A jolt of electricity ran across Seth’s skin. Every inch of him burned with a thousand needles as if he’d slept on it wrong and cut off his circulation.

The Sheriff was looking the other way, radio pressed to his lips. As soon as he saw Seth move, he whipped around and raised his pistol.

He was too slow.

Seth swung at his face.

His fist passed through a swarm of moths. The coward. But instead of running, the Sheriff coalesced mere feet away, and he unleashed a barrage of gunfire.

Seth held up his hand in a futile attempt to shield his face. The bullets sliced straight through his palm. One shattered Seth’s jaw, another glanced off his temple, and a third traced a line across his scalp. Seth hissed, and he spit out a bullet that had somehow ended up in his mouth. The hot metal had burned his tongue, leaving an ashen aftertaste.

That bastard. Seth wanted nothing more than to rip the Sheriff’s head off. But he knew the coward would turn into moths as soon as Seth got close. Perhaps…

A desk pressed against Seth’s thigh, the same one the Sheriff had slammed him into. Seth crouched down, wrapped an arm around the heavy wood, and lifted the whole thing over his head as if it were a football. His muscles screamed in protest, but they held together as Seth reared back and chucked the desk into the Sheriff’s rib cage.

Moths exploded into a ball of wings and powder. The desk slammed through the swarm, crushing hundreds of the insects. Whether that hurt the Sheriff, Seth wasn’t sure, but it had certainly scared him. The remaining moths fled the room, out toward the lobby.

Pain lanced up Seth’s arm. He rolled his shoulder, the motion sending hot needles through his nerves. He’d overexerted himself with that throw. His improved strength was no joke, but lifting that desk was near the edge of his limits. It had been worth it. Any damage to his muscles would heal soon enough.

Seth took the time to loot another deputy’s pistol, along with three extra magazines, which Seth shoved in his pocket. With that done, he headed after the Sheriff.

Footsteps behind him. Had Barke gotten around him somehow? When Seth turned around, he was surprised to find Deputy Redding stumbling into the hall. He lurched toward Seth, sheets of blood running down his tan uniform. How was he still alive? Was he one of Owen’s puppets as well? No, that couldn’t be true. His eyes weren’t yellow, they were a glassy gray.

Redding clacked his teeth together, and he scratched at the air.

Of course. Redding was dead after all. And he wasn’t Owen’s puppet, he was David’s. Damn it, Alex! That dumb bitch should have killed him when she’d had the chance.

But if Redding was a zombie, did that mean David was close by? Seth couldn’t be sure. He had no idea how David's ability worked. Either way, Seth had bigger problems. Already, more of the dead deputies were starting to rise.

“I thought I was done with zombies.” Seth unloaded his pistol into the incoming horde. Unfortunately, this pistol, while scary to living opponents, didn’t do shit against the undead. Even aiming at their kneecaps, Seth’s barrage hardly slowed them down.

He turned around and fled into the lobby. As he ran, he fished a new magazine from his pocket and reloaded the pistol. His long strides far outpaced the zombies, but he saw no sign of the Sheriff. The hall with the holding cell was off to the side, and he heard someone banging against the bars. Seth hurried into the hall.

“Seth!” Alex said. She hung against the bars, eyes flashing wide at the swarm of zombies behind him. “What did you do!”

“This isn’t my fault.” Seth grabbed the cell door, ready to rip it off its hinges. He had the strength to do it, even without ChainBreaker active. However, this holding cell could be an opportunity.

Seth ran back to the zombie horde, meeting them at the doorway. To his luck, Deputy Redding led the charge. The zombie slashed at Seth, who did nothing to block the attack. Sharp nails gouged a ribbon of flesh from his chest and scratched the ribs beneath.

Pain. Blood. A small price to pay for the reward dangling from Redding's belt: the keys to the holding cell. Seth snagged them, then ran back to the cell, unlocked the door, and shoved his way inside. The door clanged shut, and a moment later, the zombie horde crashed against it.

“What the hell, dude,” Will said. He pointed to the crowd of deputies reaching through the bars. “Why are the zombies here?”

“Well,” Seth said. “Maybe if your girlfriend had listened to me and killed David, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“What?” Alex pushed her way to the back of the cell, keeping out of the zombies’ reach. “Don’t pin this on me. Why are the deputies dead in the first place? We heard gunshots.”

There wasn’t time for this. Sheriff Barke probably had more backup on the way. Although, maybe the zombies would fight them off. Could they tell friends from foe?

Whatever. Now wasn’t the time for questions. It was the time for action. With the door to the cell locked, Seth reared back and threw the keys into the crowd of zombies.

Faster than he thought possible, Alex raced across the cell and caught the keys right before they slipped through the bars. “What the fuck! You want to lock us in here? Seth, you need to talk to us. What is going on?”

Ugh. Seth was tired of talking. It only got him into more trouble. “Look, the Sheriff is working with Owen. If we stay here, we’ll end up in jail. Or worse, dead. The Sheriff's going to blame us for everything that happened on Eldridge Creek. If we don't kill him, Owen will never pay for what he's done.”

“Kill the Sheriff? Have you lost your mind? Jesus, Seth. Why is it that the moment we finally find safety, you have to dump another load of shit atop our heads?”

Enough. Seth snapped his arm out like the crack of a whip. His fingers wrapped around Alex’s wrist, and he felt her bone flex beneath his grasp. Alex cried out, the keys slipping through her fingers. Seth kicked them out of the cell.

“Hey!” Will pulled Alex behind him and he puffed out his chest. “Get your hands off her.”

“Fuck you,” Alex said as she nursed her bruised arm. She shied away, hiding in the back corner, and she refused to meet Seth's eyes. Pathetic. She reminded him of his mother, that time when his father had come home drunk from the bar and—

No. Seth wasn't a violent man. None of this was his fault.

Or was it? Maybe she was right. Seth couldn’t deny that a part of him enjoyed this violence. This bloodshed. This strength. And even as her silent accusations lashed at him, he felt a well of energy swirling against the base of his skull.

ChainBreaker.

Now that the cell was locked and the keys out of reach, Seth’s first ability had activated. He let the energy gather, growing stronger with every passing second. The energy felt limitless. A burgeoning star that burned bright with potential.

When Seth couldn’t take it any longer, he gathered the energy in his fist, turned to the back wall, and shattered the bricks as if they were made of glass.