Read Online LZR-1143: Infection by Bryan James - Free Book Online Page A

beneath a rock, a pistol muzzle appeared from his lap, the dark tip laying lazily on the window sill. Pointed toward the car. His hand was bandaged around the palm, a dirty brown stain having spread and dried on the dirty gauze.
    “I’m not sure I need to be telling you where you might want to go,” he replied, in that same slow, deep voice. “Seems that we’ve had a heck of a time determining who might have been bit, and the orders came down a yesterday to do checks on people before sending ‘em up to the shelters.”
    He grinned, his gaze traveling from Kate’s face to her lab coat, which was unbuttoned and lay open, revealing her blouse. Not good.
    Back to her face, corners of his mouth turning up in appreciation.
    No sir, not good at all.
    “Why don’t you three,” he gestured with the muzzle of the gun, “go ahead and get on out of the car, come around to the back. You stay right where you are ma’am.” Fred reached for the door handle, but I grabbed his wrist. No-Name was still staring at the officer, not comprehending, or not caring, about what was going down.
    “We haven’t been bitten,” Kate protested, urgency flavoring her tone. She glanced into the rear view mirror, meeting my stare, and seeing her worry reflected back to her. “We’ve lost one to a bite, but no one else was hurt. We’re just trying to get to a shelter.” Fred’s wrist twitched in my grasp.
    She was answered by the stiff metallic click of the gun being cocked.
    She turned back to me, moving her head out of the window frame, and No-Name came into the cop’s line of sight.
    The window behind No-Name shattered into a thousand pieces as his head disappeared in a cloud of red and gray. My face was suddenly wet, and Fred was screaming.
    Kate cursed and curled instinctively over the wheel, the jerking of her body, out of sheer luck, causing her to slam her foot against the accelerator. The car was still in drive and it moved forward on command. Her head was still hovering over the center console, arms sheltering her head, not seeing the Dairy Queen sign ahead of us.
    “Turn the wheel!” I shouted, reaching forward to do it myself, but knowing I was too late. She turned forward, hands reaching the wheel and foot shifting to the brake in time to veer the car from a head-on collision, but slamming our left side into the pylon supporting the large red advertisement. Fred’s head slammed into the window, shattering more glass; I slammed into Fred; No-Name’s body flew against Kate, an orgy of battered, confused bodies.
    From behind us, the sound of more gunfire and a sudden explosion of taillight and Korean trunk. Kate turned the key in the ignition. Nada.
    “We’ve got to get out of this car, we’re sitting ducks,” I said, struggling with my seat belt. Kate extracted herself from her own restraint, opening her door. Again from our rear, the squealing of tires, a gunning of cruiser engine. A thud. Then more gunning, but no more squealing. I looked back.
    Five or six creatures had emerged from behind the linen store and the adjoining neighborhood behind the tree line, dozens more trailing behind. The first few were already to the cruiser, and one had met its demise under the Ford. But its body was apparently caught up in the undercarriage, preventing the trooper from flooring it. His window was still open, and the pistol came out again, this time pointing away from us, toward the attackers. They swarmed the open window, arms stretching forward, reaching for the trooper.
    I got out, dragging Fred behind me as Kate crossed in front of the car and took his other arm. I looked through the front passenger door window as Fred got his footing, examining No-Name briefly. He was as dead as… well, he was really dead. The bullet had entered through the left temple, and had taken off the entire back of the skull. A bloody gray lump matted with hair stood out from the back of his skull, evidence of the exit wound that had resulted in the