Free Glory (Book 2) by Michael McManamon Page B

She was still sobbing, her face buried back into into the crook of his neck.
    "Are you okay?" he asked.
    "I'm scared," she said, her voice still muffled against him.
    "Don't be scared. I'll take care of you."
    "Who are you?"
    The question was such a simple one, but it took him off guard. He had found this girl in an elevator, covered in blood, and had picked her up and run for their lives. No formalities. No pleasantries. Nothing. It never occurred to him that the little girl would be worried about that.
    "I'm Scooter," he said.
    "Scooter?"
    "Really, it's Scott," he explained. "But everyone calls me Scooter."
    "Oh," After a moment she added, "I'm Emily."
    Scooter patted the back of her head once more. "It's nice to meet you, Emily. Now let's try to get out of here."
    Emily rested her head back against Scooter's neck. This time she didn't cry.
     
    *
     
    Scooter saw a door a little further down the hallway. Everything was still dark, but he could see a light flashing through its window. It flickered every so often, passing by the opening.
    Scooter knew that it was a flashlight. And that meant that someone was in there. He didn't think that it was one of those creatures . There was no way that they knew how to use flashlights.
    He made his way to the door, keeping his hand against the wall. He walked slowly.
    When he got there, he looked in the window. He could see someone on the other side. He didn't know who it was.
    He thought of knocking. Or maybe just opening the door. But before he had a chance to do anything, the light stopped, pointing at his face. There was a scream from inside. It wasn't like the scream from a creature. It sounded more out of fear than anger. Whoever was inside had seen him.
    He tried to open the door. It was locked and he couldn't get it to budge.
    He knocked.
    "It's okay," he said a little bit louder than he felt comfortable with. He raised his hand and waved to the person inside. "Open up. We're no t the m ."
    The flashlight didn't leave his face. He had to blink a few times as it shone in his eyes.
    "Come on," he continued. "We're not going to hurt you."
    The flashlight stayed pointed at him, but there was no response.
    "Come on," he said again. "Hurry up!"
    Eventually, the flashlight moved. Scooter thought he saw someone moving toward the door, but he wasn't sure. Stars flashed behind his eyes and it was difficult for him to see much of anything. He blinked a few more times to get them to disappear.
    When he managed to get rid of most of them, he looked back into the window. Standing there was a woman. The flashlight was directly under her face. It shone shadows against it.
    Scooter jumped back, frightened. It looked like a monster of some sort staring back at him. But it only took him a moment to realize that it was all just a trick of the light. Something they used to do as children to scare one another. It wasn't a monster at all.
    He walked back to the window and stuck his face up against it to get a better look of who was inside.
    "Julie?" he asked. "Is that you?"

Chapter 7
    Marianne continued to walk until she came upon a body. She had been somewhat in a daze since she had left her home. She still couldn't believe that her mother was dead. More than that, she couldn't believe all of the damage that she had seen outside. It was all weighing heavily on her. But this body was more than she could handle.
    "Darren," she whispered to the corpse.
    Darren worked at the pharmacy. She would go in there to get her mother's prescriptions every week. She didn't know much about him. Though, over the years, she had developed a bit of a crush on him. She would never have acted on it . Oh no, she wasn't ready for that . She wasn't brave enough. She liked to talking to him. And once or twice she even tried flirting with him. But she didn't know if he noticed.
    She stared down at his face. Most of it was still intact. It was his chest and arms that had been torn apart. His nice pharmacist's smock was covered