Eaters (Book 2): The Resistance by Michelle DePaepe Page A

starting to panic.
    She turned in circles. How many? Where are they? Why hadn't anyone stopped the music and sounded the alarm?
    Her mind clicked into survival mode as she pulled out her knife, forced her way back to the chair, and struggled to get back on it, despite the raging sea of bodies rocking the legs. Back on top, she no longer registered the sound of music over the pandemonium, though she could feel the beat of the drums rattling her bones. Everything she saw was in a series of flashes.
    It was hard to tell the zoned-out dancers from the people who were panicking, and those who were attacking, but it was obvious that the room had become a gore fest. The floor was slippery with black trails and there were swaths of blood arcing across the walls. People fell, screaming, laughing, terrified…bottlenecking the exits. No one could get to the alarm button next to the fire extinguisher as more undead poured in through the front door, causing partygoers to fall back.
    Think, Cheryl. Think!
    There were no guns allowed in the club room. The rule was created in an effort to prevent the deadly mix of alcohol and firepower. But, surely, the staff had guns?
    What staff?
    She saw the bouncer sprawled out next to the entrance, his legs twitching as an Eater feasted on one of his biceps and another one worked on his neck. The bartender was no longer behind his booth, and the DJ had abandoned his turntables.
    No staff. No Yvonne.
    There was no time to worry about any of them now. It was just time to get out—by any means possible. Because, if anyone did come to the club with guns to rescue them, they might just start firing into the crowd. Or, they could decide to seal off the room or entire wing. She'd seen it happen somewhere before, and had gotten out just before the torches lit the place on fire, damning everyone inside.
    God, she wished she could find Yvonne…
    She clutched the knife and hopped off the chair into the melee.
    The room was hot with sweat, punctuated by the metallic scent of blood…and now… smoke . Shoulder deep in the crowd, waving back and forth like a field of wheat in the wind, it was hard to tell which way to go. There were so many people! Which were alive…and which were dead? In such close quarters, it would be too easy for an Eater to clamp their teeth down on her wrist or shoulder before she could tell the difference.
    Her first instinct was to head for the front door, so she could make her way back to her room and get her gun, but through the jumble of bodies blocking the entrance, she could see tendrils of black smoke forming in the hallway. It was starting to burn her throat now. She covered her mouth and nose with the crook of her elbow, wondering if some idiot had tried to use fire against the attackers. Usually, someone only made that mistake once, because it didn't take long to figure out that the only thing worse than a flesh-eating ghoul coming after you was one coming after you on fire like a bomb with teeth.
    There was no music now, just a discordant succession of screams as the crowd surged toward the back exit. For a split second, Cheryl thought she saw the top of Yvonne's head. She yelled, "Yvonne!", but her voice was lost on the waves of chaos.
    She was just inching forward now, making little progress despite every effort to keep going. Then, she couldn’t move at all. Someone grabbed her from behind. She turned just in time to see a woman's bloody jaws snapping at her. Trying to free herself, she swung the knife at the mottled grey hand, but the gouge across the knuckles didn't loosen her grip. Cheryl swung again. This time, aiming for the Eater's head. Instead of putting her out of commission, the knife sliced through the woman's cheek. When she pulled it out, a trickle of blackish blood and a cascade of teeth to fell to the floor. There was no opportunity to take a third swing. As the crowd shuffled again, the undead woman fell back into the swarm behind her.
    Within a few seconds,