Read Online American Infection (Book 2) by Justin Smith - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Justin Smith
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
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the three guys finished with the first floor and took the stairs to the second, I led Sarah to the kitchen. Together we began scouring the cabinets. It appeared whoever had lived here had packed as much as they could before they made their escape. Every cabinet was barren, aside from a few spices. The refrigerator held a few items, such as cheese and vegetables in the crisper, but it had grown warm long ago and nearly everything inside featured a fresh layer of mold. I figured we'd be dining on beef jerky and Slim Jims again.
Rob, Brian and Dale entered the kitchen and stated that the house was clear. We decided that we'd split up into two rooms for the night, both on the second floor. Matt, Melissa, Sarah and I would take a room at the back of the house and the other three would take a room facing the front. This way we could rotate sleep schedules and keep someone on lookout on each side of the home.
Brian insisted that Matt be handcuffed throughout the night. Melissa started to argue, but Matt agreed it was best for everyone.
Sarah and I spent most of the evening scavenging the house for anything that might be useful, but came up empty‐handed. Rob, Dale and Brian took it upon themselves to stand guard outside. Matt and Melissa sat in the living room, paging through books they'd found in the home's library.
As the sun fell below the horizon, we retired to our rooms upstairs. Melissa helped Matt handcuff himself to an old radiator in our room, while Brian stood watching, ensuring the cuffs were adequately fastened. I took the first watch, pulling a rocking chair to the window, while Sarah and Melissa shared the queen size bed.
I fell asleep almost instantly, and didn't wake until the first rays of the sun began to cast their light over the farm. The girls and Matt hadn't moved throughout the night and, thankfully, it appeared we hadn't been discovered by any of the infected venturing away from the city.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Friday, 6:15 a.m.
After kissing Sarah goodbye and watching her fade from view behind us, I regretted leaving her. I knew in my head that I needed to help Matt get his parents if I expected his help finding mine; and the fact that he might have a cure coursing through his veins inspired me to ensure he didn't die. Still, part of me wanted to run back to Sarah, scoop her up and figure out our own way to the Poconos, everyone else be damned.
The first mile of the hike was without incident. Route 842 was lined by trees on one side and fields on the other. There was no activity in the fields, but Matt cautioned us that just beyond the tree line to our right were sprawling neighborhoods. He said they were big homes, and likely the kind of people that had the resources to flee or bunker down when the infected began to spread, but we had no way of knowing for sure. We walked in silence, single file, Brian in the lead, Matt right behind him, close enough to whisper in his ear. Occasionally Brian would raise his fist, signaling us to stop. Most likely he was hearing a deer or groundhog in the woods. Each time, we waited a few minutes, rifles aimed in every direction, before we would begin walking again.
I hadn't learned much about the behavior of the infected, but everything I knew was bad. They were about as fast as the average human. Luckily, we were all pretty fast as well, but I would have rather been dealing with the slow, shuffling zombie‐types from so many movies.
They also seemed to have a pack mentality. The first few days in Maryland, we had mostly encountered groups of three or four. The past few days, on the beach near Aberdeen Proving Ground and in Conowingo, the infected had attacked us in herds of dozens or hundreds. Perhaps as they wandered around, the groups grew larger. Or maybe those larger recent groups had started out in more populated places. Either way, I knew if we saw one infected, there were more nearby.
After passing a number of driveways without incident, Route 842 curved to the
Rob, Brian and Dale entered the kitchen and stated that the house was clear. We decided that we'd split up into two rooms for the night, both on the second floor. Matt, Melissa, Sarah and I would take a room at the back of the house and the other three would take a room facing the front. This way we could rotate sleep schedules and keep someone on lookout on each side of the home.
Brian insisted that Matt be handcuffed throughout the night. Melissa started to argue, but Matt agreed it was best for everyone.
Sarah and I spent most of the evening scavenging the house for anything that might be useful, but came up empty‐handed. Rob, Dale and Brian took it upon themselves to stand guard outside. Matt and Melissa sat in the living room, paging through books they'd found in the home's library.
As the sun fell below the horizon, we retired to our rooms upstairs. Melissa helped Matt handcuff himself to an old radiator in our room, while Brian stood watching, ensuring the cuffs were adequately fastened. I took the first watch, pulling a rocking chair to the window, while Sarah and Melissa shared the queen size bed.
I fell asleep almost instantly, and didn't wake until the first rays of the sun began to cast their light over the farm. The girls and Matt hadn't moved throughout the night and, thankfully, it appeared we hadn't been discovered by any of the infected venturing away from the city.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Friday, 6:15 a.m.
After kissing Sarah goodbye and watching her fade from view behind us, I regretted leaving her. I knew in my head that I needed to help Matt get his parents if I expected his help finding mine; and the fact that he might have a cure coursing through his veins inspired me to ensure he didn't die. Still, part of me wanted to run back to Sarah, scoop her up and figure out our own way to the Poconos, everyone else be damned.
The first mile of the hike was without incident. Route 842 was lined by trees on one side and fields on the other. There was no activity in the fields, but Matt cautioned us that just beyond the tree line to our right were sprawling neighborhoods. He said they were big homes, and likely the kind of people that had the resources to flee or bunker down when the infected began to spread, but we had no way of knowing for sure. We walked in silence, single file, Brian in the lead, Matt right behind him, close enough to whisper in his ear. Occasionally Brian would raise his fist, signaling us to stop. Most likely he was hearing a deer or groundhog in the woods. Each time, we waited a few minutes, rifles aimed in every direction, before we would begin walking again.
I hadn't learned much about the behavior of the infected, but everything I knew was bad. They were about as fast as the average human. Luckily, we were all pretty fast as well, but I would have rather been dealing with the slow, shuffling zombie‐types from so many movies.
They also seemed to have a pack mentality. The first few days in Maryland, we had mostly encountered groups of three or four. The past few days, on the beach near Aberdeen Proving Ground and in Conowingo, the infected had attacked us in herds of dozens or hundreds. Perhaps as they wandered around, the groups grew larger. Or maybe those larger recent groups had started out in more populated places. Either way, I knew if we saw one infected, there were more nearby.
After passing a number of driveways without incident, Route 842 curved to the
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