Read Online Jacob's Odyssey (The Berne Project Book 1) by Russ Melrose - Free Book Online Page A

I had a more imminent problem. What if someone or something was inside the shop right now? Could the owner still be here? The owner or someone infected? What if I had to abort my plan and couldn't get the lock pick set I needed? I had my bat, but in the close quarters of the hallway if there were any infected around, I could get bitten. If I had to use the Glock, any infected nearby might swarm the shop before I could grab one of the lock pick sets. Time was running out and I knew what I needed to do. I had to get a lock pick set. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. But the door wouldn't close and I noticed the wood in the door jamb near the lock had been stripped away by a previous break-in.
    I slipped the backpack off and jammed it as best I could against the bottom of the door. I removed the gun from the backpack and stuck it inside the front waistline of my shorts. The gun would be a last resort if needed. I gripped the bat with both hands and began moving down the hallway. There were two doors on each side of the hallway, but only one door was open, the second door on my left. I raised the bat up in striking position and moved very slowly toward the open door, keeping an eye to the front just in case. The shop was remarkably quiet, and it suddenly dawned on me that if there were any infected inside the shop, I'd likely have heard their moans. My eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark, and as I came abreast of the open door, I could make out the shadowy silhouette of a toilet against the back wall of the room. I breathed a sigh of relief and quietly closed the door.
    I kept my bat ready as I entered the retail area of the shop from behind the counter. Light from one of the street lamps angled through the large windows that covered the shop's front wall. Because the actual retail area of the shop was fairly small, it was easy for me to see there weren't any infected in the shop. On the other side of the counter were two merchandise carousel racks. I decided to check them out first.
    As I moved around the counter, I began to hear the faint staccato ringing of the alarm sounding off through the steady drumbeat of the rain. In another minute or so, it wouldn't be so faint.
    I hustled over to the racks, figuring I had maybe a couple minutes before the first infected would be filing past the front of the shop. A number of product packages were strewn around on the shop floor. I quickly scanned the front and sides of the racks but didn't see any lock pick sets or tool kits. Just keys and key chains, alarms, screwdrivers, and small drills. The back of the racks were more of the same. I couldn't understand why the lock pick sets weren't on the racks. Then I turned around and looked into the glass counter case and there they were, right on the top shelf of the case. I hadn't even noticed them when I was behind the counter. A half dozen sets on display. But they were behind the glass and I needed to get behind the counter again to get at them. And that's when I heard the first plaintive moan. I hunkered down behind one of the racks and waited. He had to be very close for me to hear him through the rain. The large windows in front, separated by the door, were filled with big lettering which gave me some cover but also obscured my view. When he slowly trudged by, all I could see was that he had long, dark hair matted down from the rain and was half-dragging his left leg. He was a loner and his attention seemed fixed on the sound of the alarm which had now taken on a shrill, high-pitched cadence. As soon as he was past the shop, I hurried around to the other side of the counter, but the sliding glass doors to the case were locked.
    I foraged through a couple drawers beneath the cash resister looking for a key but found nothing. Then I heard a muted chorus of moans echoing through the rain. A lot of them were coming and I had no idea what to do. The only way I could get to the lock pick sets would be by smashing the case