Free Jacob's Odyssey (The Berne Project Book 1) by Russ Melrose

store.
    I ran to the counter and grabbed the bat and in one motion raised it up and brought it down on the glass case with an overwrought intensity. The glass exploded and I felt a searing pain rip across my left cheek. I ignored it and grabbed a tri-fold lock pick set and shoved it in the front pocket of my shorts. I ran around the counter and through the back hallway to the back door. The moans spiraled in intensity after I disappeared from their view. Working quickly, I replaced the bat in the backpack making sure it was somewhat snug but still easy enough to remove, then I slipped the backpack back on and buckled it. I drew the gun from my waistline and chambered a round. I eased the trigger safety lock till it was flush with the trigger and ready to fire. There was no need to worry about noise anymore. I peered out the window and didn't see any infected in the back parking lot. I took a deep breath and opened the door and glanced to my right toward the side driveway but saw nothing. And then I ran like hell.
    The chain link fence wasn't very high and I tossed the gun over and climbed the fence. I dried the Glock off as best I could and put the gun back in the backpack. I stood on the safe side of the fence in the rain and wondered which direction I should go. If I stayed in this neighborhood and tried to find a house to stay in, I'd still be very close to the hordes of infected now roaming 9th East. And that thought made me nervous. To get to another neighborhood, I'd have to cross another street or two and that had risks of its own. It didn't take long for me to make a decision. The sudden sound of shattering glass prompted me to move and I raced toward the gate. They were in the locksmith shop now and it wouldn't take long for them to get to the back door. I opened the gate that led to the front yard and slipped into the shadows of some shrubbery next to the house.
    After a few moments, I heard them push through the back door of the shop and spill into the back parking lot. And then I could hear some of them bumping clumsily into the dumpster and the chain link fence. I was fairly certain they couldn't see me, but I couldn't be sure. I edged slowly along the side of the house and moved toward the front yard, keeping to the shadows. The tenor of their moans remained constant and I grew confident they hadn't seen me. Their moans would have spiked dramatically if they'd caught even a glimpse of me. When I arrived at the front edge of the house, it appeared that 10th East was free of the infected, at least as far as I could tell. And for once, I didn't hesitate. I sped across the street and made my way into the nearest backyard.
    I kept going till I had crossed 11th East. I didn't have any problems with the infected, and I assumed it was because of the shrill, insistent alarm still blaring away down on 9th East. The infected were drawn to the annoying sound as if it were the pied piper of Hamelin.
    I found the home I was looking for on 11th East. Lights were on in the front living room and the picture window curtains were open. It was a brick, ranch style home with a basement. I checked out the windows in the back of the house but couldn't see much of anything. Mostly dark shadows. A thread of light found its way into the kitchen, but that was about it. The rain had now dissipated into a light drizzle as I stood by the back door soaking wet and hesitant. I reasoned that if anyone were still in the house, those lights in the living room wouldn't be on and the home would've been shuttered up, but even my sound rationale couldn't get me to move because the thought of breaking into someone's home, even if they'd left town or had been infected, chafed against my moral core.
    The back door had a knob lock but no dead bolt and for that I was thankful. I tried the door one time to see if it was locked and it was. I rubbed my bruised knuckles as I stood there feeling jittery about breaking into someone's home. And the thought