Read Online Season of Rot by Eric S. Brown, John Grover - Free Book Online

had been a tough decision but ultimately
Riley had chosen to leave the truck. It was in great shape, perfect
for off-road travel, and he had stored enough fuel to fill it up
twice. But the dead controlled the roads now, and the truck was too
risky, even out here in the wilderness. It was better, Riley knew,
to set out on foot. They would travel slower and they wouldn’t be
able to carry as much, but it would be far safer. On foot, they
could stick to the trees and stay clear of the roads; they would be
nowhere near as noticeable should they come across a group of the
dead.
    Hannah prepared some rations, and the family
divided the load of food and water, with even little Brandon
carrying a canteen of his own. Riley also let him carry a hunting
knife, though Hannah had protested. The knife would be of no use
against the dead as Brandon didn’t have the strength or the skill
to drive it into someone’s skull, but it made the boy feel safer
and that was what mattered to Riley.
    Hannah carried an old-fashioned .30-.06
rifle, which once belonged to her father, and she also strapped a
.38 revolver to her hip. Riley carried two holstered .45
automatics, an M-16 he’d bought illegally before the world fell
apart, and numerous spare magazines for all three weapons in his
backpack.
    Leaving this place wasn’t easy for any of
them. They’d been up here alone for a full three months since the
dead first began to rise. In a lot of ways, it felt more like home
than the house they’d lived in for years before they fled for the
high country.
    They made their way into the woods, and Riley
watched a tear slide down Hannah’s cheek as she looked back at the
cabin. It cut into his heart like a blade.
    They still had no idea where they were
headed. There was no logical place to head for, so Riley and Hannah
had merely decided to set out east for the coast and hope for the
best. If nothing else, maybe Brandon could see the ocean once
before they all died.
    Riley swore to himself the dead would never
take his family alive, even if he had to kill them himself.
    4
    It was feeding time in the pen. The sun had
long sunk beneath the surrounding mountains. Two of the dead guards
emerged from within the compound, carrying a large bucket filled
with slop as runny as cream corn. With the help of a third guard,
they emptied the bucket over the fence onto the ground of the pen.
The human prisoners pounced on it like hunger-maddened animals,
scraping it up from the dirt with their bare hands.
    Scott and David did not participate in the
fight for their evening meal. David remained at the pen’s far side,
staring at the roadway that lead up to the breeding center. Scott
sat Indian style on the ground with his arms across his legs, palms
open towards the stars. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow
and steady. Scott would find leftovers later, or he would fight
with the flock at the morning meal. He doubted if David had any
thoughts in his head about food, and he didn’t care. Let the
newcomer starve if he wanted to. There were worse ways to die.
    All that mattered to Scott at the moment was
finding a shred of peace. Meditation could take him away from the
horrors of this place.
    Earlier in the day, he’d told David to stop
hoping, that it was a lost cause, but now he wondered: wasn’t he
himself seeking hope by leaving the pen, if only in his mind? He
sighed and opened his eyes. The guards were already headed back
inside the breeding center and the frenzy among the men for the
slop was dying down. Scott slowly got to his feet, ignoring the
taunts of his fellow inmates that he’d missed the meal.
    This time David saw him coming, then turned
back to the fence as Scott reached his side. “How dare you tell me
to stop hoping?” David whispered. “Hope is all that’s left to any
of us now.”
    Scott accepted the stinging words as if he
deserved them. He nodded towards the road leading out of the
compound. “What exactly is out there that you want