The Rising [antikvár]

Chapter Onehe dead scrabbled for an entrance to his grave. Hiswife was among them, as ravenous for Jim in deathas she'd been in life. Their faint, soulless cries drifted down through ten feet of soil and rock.The kerosene lamp cast flickering shadows on the cinder block walls, and the air in the shelter was stale and earthy. His grip on the Ruger tightened. Above him, Carrie shrieked and clawed at the earth.She'd been dead for a week.Jim sighed, breathing in the dank air. He lifted the metal coffeepot from where it sat on the heater and poured himself a cup. The warmth felt good, and he lingered there for a moment, before regretfully turning the heater off. To conserve fuel, he only ran it to heat up his meals. The brief comfort only made the damp chill stronger.He sipped instant coffee and gagged. Like everything else, it was bitter.He crossed back to the cot and collapsed upon it.The noises continued from above.Jim had built the shelter in the summer of 1999 when Y2K fever was at its highest. Carrie laughed at him, until he'd shown her some of the reports and articles. Even then, she'd been skepticaluntil the nightly news' constant barrage had made her a believer. Two monthsTJifl-Rzjtfn^ / 5