Read Online Contagious by Scott Sigler - Free Book Online

sleeper-compartment door and hopped down. The icy rain bounced off his black suit as he walked toward the house.

GETTIN’ HIS DRINK ON

Perry finished his fifth beer. A blessed buzz started to work its way through his brain. He stood up and walked to the fridge. The door wouldn’t open all the way. It was partially blocked by the body of the man who had shit all over himself. Perry put a foot on the man’s hip and slid him to the right.

Inside the fridge he found another six-pack of Budwesier. Okay, so maybe the dead guy hadn’t had any discipline, but at least he hadn’t been one of those microbrew pussies.

Holding the fresh six-pack, Perry stepped over the body and sat back down behind the table just as another black-suited man came into the kitchen. This one carried only a pistol. Through the suit’s clear visor, Perry saw the oh-so-serious face of Agent Otto.

“Hey, Clarence,” he said. “You look like a fat ninja.”

“Thanks,” Otto said. “That means so much coming from a source of wisdom like you.”

Perry opened the bottle and drank it in one pull. Six down. Five more and he’d be nice and hammered. Everyone has to have goals in life, right?

Otto slowly looked around the room, surveying the damage. “Were you drunk when you killed these people?”

“They’re not people,” Perry said. “And no, I was not drunk, but I mean to correct that situation.” He opened the second bottle and drained half of it before putting it down.

“I guess so,” Otto said. “Listen, man, you know you scare the crap out of me, right?”

Perry shrugged. That was the way of things. Didn’t matter what he did, what he said, they looked at him like he was a monster. So why not live up to the billing?

“Margaret is coming in here,” Otto said.

“Sure she is,” Perry said. “Look at all the new toys she has to play with. See this one?” He nudged the dead little boy with his foot. “I call him Slinky.”

“Save me your psycho jokes,” Otto said. “Just understand that when she’s in this room, you make any sudden moves and I’ll put you down.”

“Oh, come on, Clarence! A gun? Don’t be that guy! How about you and I settle this the old-fashioned way?”

“Forget it.”

“What’s the matter, Clarence? Massa Dew say you can’t play with the white kids?”

Behind the helmet visor, he saw Clarence’s eyes narrow.

“Go ahead, boy, ” Perry said. “Take a swing. I won’t tell on you.”

Perry hoped he would do it. Otto was big enough to count as a challenge. Not much of a challenge, but something. It would feel good to smash in his face.

He had nothing against Otto, really. Except that Otto was fucking Dr. Montoya, which meant he was getting laid, which was something Perry figured he’d never do again. If that wasn’t a good enough reason to hand out a beat-down, he didn’t know what was.

“I’ll pass,” Otto said. “You can save all that macho bullshit. Only one way you and I are going to dance, and that’s if a bullet takes the lead.”

“Oh, that’s horrible,” Perry said. “Did you write that shit yourself?”

Perry thought he saw Otto smile, just a little bit, but then the stone face slipped back into place.

Margaret came into the room carrying a double armful of green bags. She dropped them in a pile. In her black suit, she looked identical to Otto except that she was a foot shorter. Standing side by side, they looked like the adult and child versions of an alien from a bad sci-fi flick.

“Hey, Otto, your other massa is here,” Perry said. “Wake up, white people. The Jew is using the black as muscle.”

“I’m not Jewish, Perry, I’m Hispanic,” Margaret said. “And I’ve got The Blues Brothers on DVD, seen it about fifty times, so I know that line. Next are you going to tell me you hate Illinois Nazis?”

Good God. She knew The Blues Brothers ?

“I also know you’re not racist,” she said. “So stop trying to push everyone’s buttons. You’re not good at it.”

Perry wondered if Clarence Otto really had any idea just how cool this