Free Infected Freaks (Book 2): The Echo of Decay by Jason Borrego

peeling itself from the wall behind the bleachers, nor did the jelly touch her as best she could tell, yet that wasn’t enough to calm her.
    A sudden smear of guts and blood brought Scott to his back. He was too busy looking behind to notice the terrors ahead. The thump was nothing compare to the infected freak climbing on top of him, gnashing its teeth near his face.
    “Scott,” she squeaked. Sam was rattled with nerves as she aimed at the fight. Damn , she thought, unable to get a clear shot.
    Scott reached back for his rod with a knife on the end, and when he did, the thing tore out a chuck of his throbbing neck. His hands were dripping in fungi as he continued to struggle.
    He pulled the thing closer and shouted, “Run.” The thing bit him in the chest over and over. Scott’s fists hammered away at its head with little effect.
    Sam’s body weakened. She shuffled forward, putting her back up against the wall as she inched by the nauseating fight. She could hear the mastication of flesh. When her eyes met Scott’s, she felt as if she had taken a bullet to the brain. His glossy eyes glanced up, beckoning her to climb through the vent. His eyes pierced right through her soul. There was a ladder near where they had tried to access the ductwork and failed. She clawed up the rusty scabs on the ladder held together by cheap welding and dove into the filthy darkness of the vent.
    Turning back, Sam saw Scott stabbing the infected freak over and over. Yet, there was a series of bites up his chest all the way to his wet neck. Chunks of meat were missing in a dramatic fashion.
    “The door,” he groaned, cramming his hand into his leaky neck. The pale bluish glaze to his skin told of the swimming infection running through his blood.
    Samantha Downs was petrified. She clawed her way forward through the suffocating vent. It took everything to drag her frame through the narrow space. The wails of more approaching freaks caused a second surge of panic and alarm that threatened to stall the girl. The freaks would be swarming the gym in a matter of seconds. She tried her best not to imagine the creatures devouring him. Desperate, she kicked the vent shaft and spilled upon the cold cement floor. The dust covered Sam in gray powder from head to toe.
    Darkness engulfed the hollow. She clicked her flashlight and followed the beam of light from concrete wall to concrete wall. Sitting in the middle of the rather clean garage was a dirty yellow school bus. The screams of Scott cursing and calling for her to open the door amplified. Sam sprinted up the ramp toward the secured metal door. I can’t open the door. If Sam opened the door, she would be dead.
    “He’s already infected,” she whispered as a single tear rolled down her blistered cheek.
    “They’re coming,” he screamed. “Open the fuckin door!”
    Sam gathered her strength for a few seconds, listening to his pleas. She reached for the door handle, mind numb, eyes locked in madness. Scott’s screams were reaching new limits.
    “Screw it.” She opened it, heart pounding.
    Scott fell through the door.
    “Move,” she shrieked, trying to drag him out of the doorway. She could hear the clutter of a dozen feet stamping through the gym. Time was running out. Scott slithered across the space. She heaved her tiny frame against the door and pushed. Sam blinked away the images of being devoured by the approaching horde as best she could. At the exact second the door closed, the first infected freak smashed against its sturdy frame. A sharp pain set fire to her mind. I shouldn’t have let him in.
    Scott shook like a man who felt an electric sting clawing through his blood stream. He was flat on his back with his arms pressing against his messy wounds. “What happened?” He pulled out his flashlight and turned it on and then sat it on the ground.
    She hesitated. “You got attacked.”
    He cracked his jaw and fluttered his milky eyes. It must have been an abysmal deep boiling