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

enough girl. Nevertheless, she seemed to find pleasure in the company of crooks. Abraham only hoped his intuition was wrong. Perhaps Bob changed after decades removed from the carnage of the Winter War. War never changes, and neither does the man returning from battle.
    He closed his eyes and visualized the tattered family picture nested in his vehicle dashboard. His family was his strength. Looking across the cluttered bedroom, he exhaled a grave breath of desire. She has been gone too long, he thought. Bob promised they would have the fuel first thing in the morning. However, something about the situation stunk. It was the preferred scent of criminals. He felt as if it was wrong for him to be safe in bed, and Sam out in the darkness evading infected freaks. Sam and Scott left late, under the cover of darkness and a harsh storm. Still, he believed she should have been back by now.
    Unable to stop his racing mind, Abraham slipped off the cold leather sofa and laced up his boots. He turned back to the far end of the room and saw his grandchildren were fast asleep on a sturdy metal bunk bed crammed in the corner of the cluttered room. Hunter hugged his rifle like an old teddy bear as Abraham imagined better times. Abraham knew his grandson would keep Emme safe. Sure, they fought like cats and dogs, but what siblings didn’t? Hunter would do whatever it took to keep his family alive. In a way Hunter had become him. Then again, it was Emme that saved him with his own pistol.
    The rest of Bob’s men were sleeping in a shoddy hotel across from Bob’s garage. This gave him a false sense of safety. Stepping out into the second floor hall, he churned through the possibilities. He needed to get to the Red Tower and rescue his family. He covered the distance to the end of the damaged hall. A fine, icy rain fogged the nearby window. Using the palm of his hand, he cleared a little spot in the glass to get a better view. He turned up his jacket collar and stared at the network of buildings lined in deep shadows. The low-level storm clouds had blocked Red Dead and its bloodstained tint for most of the day and night. It made all the difference in the world. The storm didn’t stop him from remembering what was out there, preying upon the living. He tried to focus on the positive for the first time in over three years, but it was a waste of time. Nothing in this world was charming anymore.
    At that time the color ran from his wrinkled face. In the reflection on the sliver of glass, he saw Bob Hatchet coming up from behind.
    “Can’t sleep?” Bob asked, emerging from a stairwell. He carried a candle on a chipped plate.
    In the hallway, chairs were tossed on top of desks, piled between couch cushions, and trimmed in lamps and anything else that would make it hard for the infected freaks to penetrate if they ever infiltrated the residence above the garage. It wasn’t meant to stop them forever, only slow them down. Or maybe this space was used as an attic for all the things Bob didn’t want to throw out.
    Bob and his mechanics had spent most of the day killing the freaks that penetrated the small compound. Abraham and Hunter were tasked with baiting the horde into the kill zone. This was their punishment for creating the problem. Somehow they survived and managed to patch up the massive hole in the side of the building using a truck trailer. It was an eventful day.
    “I seldom sleep.” Abraham paused. “Why is it taking this long?” In the dark beyond the safety of the walls, the wind rose to a crisp howl.
    “Scott is a tough man. He uses stealth and that takes time. He served in several special operations with me.” Bob bit his lower lip. “Let’s take a walk to the garage. I don’t want to wake the children.”
    Abraham narrowed his eyes. “A walk could help clear my head.” He followed Bob down the stairs. This led back to Bob’s garage. “So what are you planning on doing with an armored bus?”
    “Seriously, I told the