Free Slow Burn: Dead Fire, Book 4 by Bobby Adair Page B

The infected had figured out how to raid pantries. That jibed well with what I’d seen in the house where I’d left Harvey. The infected had found and were eating up our food supply! That dramatically changed the situation for the survivors. Simply hiding and running was not a sustainable strategy by itself. We’d need to get very busy hoarding every container of preserved food we could find.
    With extra urgency, I hustled down the street toward the first mailbox and driveway on the river side of the street. Once there, I jogged down and around the house, across a large stone pool deck, and then over the grass. As I arrived at the boathouse, my heart sank. It was empty. I couldn’t see a dock at the next house over because of the river’s curve, but the dock attached to the boathouse allowed for me to walk out over the river and get a better look.
    Thank God!
    Two houses down, I spotted a ski boat tied to a neighbor’s dock.
    It took a few minutes to jog back across the property and get back onto the street. Without slowing , I turned left and started around the curve, looking for the mailbox that would mark the driveway to the property I sought.
    T he sound of Whites close by gave me pause. I slowed to a walk to hide the sound of my footfalls. I slowed my breathing to make it easier to hear what was going on around me.
    The road revealed itself by degrees as I made my way around the curve .
    I stopped.
    What the fuck is that?

Chapter 10
    Up ahead, on the right, tethered to a tree by a chain, was a string of six Whites, burdened with backpacks and a few shopping bags. Each had a loop of chain around the neck. Each loop was linked to a longer chain that had one end wrapped around a tree.
    I crept up beside a stacked, white limestone mailbox and used it as cover while I stared, wondering what it was that I was seeing.
    From behind the mailbox , I saw a familiar-looking female White with skin of wrinkled leather and thin, dirty, artificial hair. Around her neck hung drapes of gold and silver chains. Her bony wrists were lost under glittery bangles. She came out of a yard on the far side of the street and made a show of scratching rudely at her crotch before making her way down the line of chained Whites, inspecting each as she passed. In a bag here or a backpack there, she’d drop a piece of metal. Beside one of the chained Whites, she stopped and rummaged through the backpack. Metal in the bag jingled and the woman’s fairy tale witch cackle crinkled through the air.
    An enormously obese woman, as white as snow, bounded out of the same front yard, prancing happily on her toes, with handfuls of sparkling jewelry. She also came to a stop at the line of docile Whites and began depositing her treasures in the bags while at the same time taking out bracelets that she’d slip on an off of her plump wrists, looking for some particularly pleasing combination.
    A big man followed the obese woman, keeping subserviently a few steps behind . He didn’t look around with any curiosity. He hurried when she hurried. He slowed when she slowed. He didn’t seem to have effort for anything besides maintaining a Russell-like position near the big woman.
    I felt like Jane Goodall after stumbling upon a new troop of apes. I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the previously unseen behaviors and unexpectedly complex social structure.
    Another White came running from across the street toward the leathery woman, making me think he was attacking. But he stopped very suddenly in front of her and dropped to a knee, holding out his palms. They appeared to be full of forks, spoons, and knives.
    The leathery one screeched and swatted the offering away, sending the silverware jangling across the asphalt. She wailed in anger and windmilled her spider-fingered hands at the kneeling White, who passively accepted the beating. After a minute, she came to a stop and glared crossly down at him before leaning over and cupping her bony fingers over one of