Free The Night Sweeper: A Zombie Conspiracy Novel (The Sweeper Chronicles Book 1) by J. Steven Butler

guards.
    I put on my best innocent voice and raise my hands slightly in a placating gesture.
    “I apologize. I must have taken the wrong exit,” I say. I turn back and look at the door I just came through, feigning ignorance, a lost man getting off on the wrong floor. When I turn back again, his eyes rove over my outfit with skepticism, but he doesn't notice that there is now a small object concealed in my right hand. I obviously don’t look the part of their normal fare and I don’t give him time to react.
    With a slight flick of my wrist, I launch a tiny dart that embeds itself in Mr. Wall’s upper thigh releasing a highly powerful and fast-acting nerve toxin. He collapses mid-stride and I catch him before he can hit the floor.
    Time to win an Academy Award.
    “Sir, are you okay?” I say. I look up at the other two guards who are already moving towards us. “Help him, he just collapsed! I don’t know what happened?” I say acting panicked.
    They look confused and move quickly to lean over the fallen man. As they do, my arm snaps out to the guard on my right, and my fist crashes into his temple. That's followed by a quick straight kick to the one on my left, catching him right under the jaw. They crumple, unconscious, the surgical strikes having done their magic.
    I reach for the nearest guard and yank his badge from his vest, rise, and stride to the cell door. I punch in the security code Eckert provided and swipe the guard’s badge in front of the reader. There's a beep and a red light changes to green. I step back. There’s a hiss like a vacuum seal being broken and the door comes open to reveal a dimly lit room and a cowering figure in the center.

Chapter 12
    To say the man in the room is in bad shape is a pitiful understatement. He looks at me in a dazed fashion, his eyes dull and unfocused. I cross to where he sits on the floor, blood caked on his face and staining his jumpsuit. Deep purple bruises cover his arms, neck, and face. He wheezes when he breathes, a raspy, constricted sound.
    I bend over and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Harbin, can you stand?”
    He swears at me, his speech slurred, and takes a weak swipe at my face which I easily deflect. “Easy, pal. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m taking you out of this place.” A vague sort of realization seems to be dawning on him as he looks me over, and I take his hands and start pulling him to his feet.
    “Who are you? Where are you taking…” his voice cuts off mid-sentence as he comes face to face with me. “I can’t believe it!” he whispers. “You came for me.”
    That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting and an odd chill creeps up my spine, but before I can respond, he suddenly throws his arms around me, pulling me to himself, his grip weak.
    It must be a result of the ordeal he’s been through. He’s probably hallucinating or delusional. I push him away. “Listen, I want you to get in the corner,” I say moving him in that direction. “I want you to sit facing it and curl into as tight a ball as possible. Do you understand?” I’m really worried about this dude’s mental state. He looks at me like I’m crazy, but sits nonetheless.
    The guards went down easily enough, but it’s still possible I’ve tripped an alarm by entering the cell. Time is of the essence.
    Moving to the outer wall of the building, I pull a small pack of c4 from my belt. It’s a special construction surrounded by a high impact polymer that will direct the blast outward as much as possible. Pretty state of the art stuff, really. It adheres to the wall and I press the switch that starts the countdown from ten seconds. If I haven’t already managed to do so, this is going to draw attention. Lots of it.
    Once the timer blinks on, I run to the other side of the room and crouch over Harbin, blanketing as much of his body as possible with my own.
    “Cover your ears,” I yell, doing the same myself. I brace just as the explosion rocks the room