Free Infected (Book 1): The Fall by Caleb Cleek

from outside near you!” I shouted as I slid into the front seat of the patrol car.  I hadn’t gotten the keys back from Lawrence, so I used the second set I carried on my belt keeper.
    I yanked the gear shift lever down one slot and pushed the gas pedal to the floor while twisting the steering wheel to the left.  The tires chirped as the car plowed backwards across the freshly sealed asphalt parking lot.  As soon as the nose of the car pointed toward the road, I slammed on the brakes, stopping the backwards motion.  I pulled the gear lever down two more notches and buried the gas pedal into the short carpet on the floor.  In the ten seconds it took me to get into the car, the infected woman had already moved a long way down Main Street.  Her awkward gait looked like it would slow her down.  The distance she had covered spoke otherwise.  She was as fast as an Olympic sprinter.  I was afraid she would leave the street and run between buildings, forcing me to abandon my car and pursue her on foot. 
    From what I was seeing, there was no way to catch her on foot.  Not only was her speed faster than mine, her stamina was much greater than mine, too.  It appeared that luck was on my side, though.  She continued running down the middle of the lane.  As the car closed the distance, the red needle on the speedometer passed through sixty.  She was less than 100 feet ahead.  In less than a second I was going to crush her with the car. Like a rodeo clown fleeing a charging bull, she made a last second jink to the right and started down Lincoln Street.  I moved my foot from the gas pedal and crushed the brake pedal as my boot tried to push it through the floor.  The front of the car dropped instantly as the whole car fought against the restraining force of the brakes.
    I resisted the urge to rack the wheel hard to the left in a u-turn.  The Crown Victoria has a bad tendency to under steer.  When the wheel is turned sharply before the car has slowed enough, the car will continue forward, skidding on the turned wheels.  Once the speed drops enough, the front wheels will hold to the road and the car will track in the direction the wheels lead. Prior to that speed, sharp turns are ineffective. 
    When enough speed had been scrubbed off, I cranked the wheel to the steering stop.  The tires howled in complaint, but they maintained their tenuous grip on the road and the car sliced to the left.  As the car passed through one hundred eighty degrees, my foot began to edge back into the gas.  The car accelerated through the next ninety degrees and ended with the nose pointing down Lincoln Street toward the elementary school. 
    I wasn’t going to catch her before she made it through the pedestrian gate in the fence that ran the perimeter of the playground.  The playground was full of kids enjoying their lunch break.  
    I slammed on the brake as she burst through the open gate twenty feet ahead of me.  I racked the gear shift into park before the car had completely stopped.  The transmission ticked as the gears attempted to mesh.  Suddenly they locked together and the wheels instantly froze.  The car ground to a halt six inches from the elevated curb. My right hand was clawing my Glock out of the holster as I slid from the seat.  She was forty feet ahead and moving fast when my feet hit the ground.  I raised the pistol level with my eyes.  She was in the midst of a playground full kids. Suddenly a lane opened up.  I squeezed a round off and she bucked forward with a red emulsion spewing out the front of her chest. 
    The explosion of the gun sent the kids into a frenzy.  Unsure what to do, they began running aimlessly. Their random movement closed the open lane and I couldn’t get off another shot without unacceptable risk.  The force of the bullet drove the infected woman to her knees.  I charged her, seeking an opening.  As I closed the distance between us, she rose to her feet and headed to an open door