Free The Black Death by Aric Davis Page B

businesses were lit. A pair of bodies lay in the road in front of the bar, one of them wearing an apron. Matt assumed it was Mort.
    “Looks like everyone’s already dying,” said Free.
    ***
    Matt had Free park the van in front of the police station, right behind Frank’s cruiser. Matt got out first and wasn’t surprised to see that a barricade had been erected inside the station: Flo’s desk had been turned on its side, and the glass door into the station had been shattered. Judging by the shells on the floor, Matt assumed the door had been ruined by gunfire. He pulled open the door slowly, entering first, with Free in tow.
    “Stop right there,” called a female voice—
Flo
—and Matt did, Free bumping into him lightly. “Tell me your names.”
    “Flo, it’s Matt. This is Fr—”
    “Your full name.”
    “Matt Cahill.”
    “Don Freeman.”
    Matt turned to look at Free. “Don?”
    “Free, man. Since high school.”
    Flo appeared from behind the makeshift barricade, holding the pump gun Matt had seen her with earlier, and she waved her hand toward them. “Hurry up, get back here!”
    Matt and Free ran to her and then knelt behind the desk with her. “What happened?” asked Matt, and she shook her head.
    “Frank pulled over a couple of guys DUI about two hours ago, right outside of Mort’s. They both went crazy when he got out of the car, beat him up pretty bad. He shot and killed one of them, but the other one ran across the street and broke back into the store. Frank was going after him when Mort came out and attacked Frank. Frank ended up killing him, too, but Mort had a knife. Frank came back in here and collapsed. I tried to call EMS, but the phones are down, land and cellular, and no one is responding on the CB. Two more men tried to break in. I had to shoot at them. I’m not supposed to do this part of the job. This is why—”
    “You’re doing great,” said Matt. “You did everything you could have, and I know you’re worried about Frank, but this will be okay.”
    “It doesn’t feel like it,” she said, her eyes shifting from Matt to Free. “The whole town is acting crazy.”
    “You’re right,” said Free. “Right down the shitter.”
    “Where’s Frank?”
    “He’s in a cell, through there.”
    “Next to the junkie?”
    “You’ve been gone a while. That guy beat himself to death on the bars hours ago.”
    “I’m going to talk to Frank. You two stay here. Don’t let anyone in here if you can help it. You’re doing a good job, Flo. The name test is a good one. Make sure anyone else who comes in can do at least that before you put your guard down.”
    “My guard down? I’m half expecting to need to shoot Free the second you turn your back.”
    Free scowled at that, but Matt smiled. “Any other day, maybe you would have. But Free is doing just fine right now.”
    ***
    Matt walked into the sheriff’s office small jail, nervous for Frank and also nervous that Free and Flo would be overrun, or perhaps even turn on each other. Seeing the blood on the cement floor from where the doped-out teenager had smashed his head didn’t help things, and seeing Frank in the cell next to the stain, that door open, made Matt feel much, much worse. Frank was lying on the simple jail bed, his breathing labored but rhythmic. Matt could feel Mr. Dark in the room, even if he wasn’t there. Ignoring that as best as he was able, Matt turned from Frank, his eyes returning to the mess from the dead hophead in the other cell. Then he opened thedoor to return to Free and Flo. Feeling as if he had the puzzle but was still missing far too many of the pieces, Matt swung the door closed, hearing the locks slam home. Frank still wore a gun on his belt, and with the door shut, at least they would have a harder time getting to him. Sparing Frank one last look, Matt left the room.
    Free and Flo were hunkered down behind the desk exactly where Matt had left them and looking no happier for it. Matt took a deep