Free Dead Air (Book One of The Dead Series) by Jon Schafer Page A

the unwritten rules that governed scalpers around the stadium. No one tried to take another man’s spot. Tim had fought hard to carve out this territory, just blocks from the stadium, and would fight twice as hard to keep it.
    Readying himself for a confrontation, Tim wrapped his hand around the switchblade he carried in his pocket for just such a situation.
    The other scalper, who he knew as Ry-Low, held up his hands when he saw the look on Tim's face. "Peace, brother. I only come to talk."
    Tim stopped in front of Ry-Low and gave him his hardest stare. "So talk."
    "Just wondering if you was having a bad night too?" He asked. "I been out here four hours and I ain't sold shit."
    Tim relaxed slightly. So it wasn't only him. "Yeah , I'm getting screwed too" he replied. "Everyone's scared about this munchin' madness thing,"
    Ry -Low said with disappointment, "They must hear about it on the tube and they think it's like airborne aids or something. Guy who came by earlier told me that the stadium's only half full and most of the bars are deserted."
    Tim noticed the light turning yellow so he said quickly, "I'd like to hang out and kick the shit but I've got to try and sell some of these things." Pointing to the light, he said, "Time to go do my thing."
    "Yeah, I gave up already." Ry-Low replied. "Getting too cold out here anyway, so I'm gonna bail. Next week's an away game so I'll see you when I see you."
    Tim waved goodbye as he stepped out into the street and started working the cars. He managed to sell another pair of tickets but even with that small profit knew he was still in the hole. Returning to his corner, he stomped his feet to try and warm them as he looked around. The traffic coming his way had now slowed to a trickle. Shit, it's getting even worse, he thought. The light turned red again so he prepared to step out after the lead car stopped.
    Curiously, he watched as a Honda Civic slowed, but when it came even with the intersection it suddenly sped up and shot through the red light, narrowly missing a pickup truck coming from its right. Two more cars followed the Honda, slowing and then running the red light. The first made it through, but the second one clipped a Dodge van. The damage was so minor that the wreck should have been easily cleared, but when the driver of the Honda jumped out and started running toward the stadium as fast as his legs could go, it caused what Tim referred to as, 'A cluster-fuck of epic proportions.'
    Grand theft auto, Tim decided as he watched the traffic back up in all four directions from the crash. Those guys were stealing those rides and the last guy screwed up.
    Looking down the street to see if the cops would come racing after the fleeing felons, he was surprised to see the boulevard completely devoid of cars. The only thing visible was a group of about twenty people heading toward him from a block away.
    Rubberneckers, he thought with disgust.
    Turning his back on them, he surveyed the chaos of the intersection. Drivers, and quite a few passengers, had gotten out of their vehicles and were now yelling instructions back and forth on how to best untangle the mess. A police car stopped in the opposite lane , and after a minute the officer got out and sauntered up to the two wrecked cars.
    Now that the cops had show n up, Tim decided that the show was over. They'd get the mess sorted out and traffic flowing again. By then it would be too late for him to try and sell the rest of his tickets though. He looked over his shoulder to check the progress of the gawkers coming up behind him and suddenly had an idea. He would try and unload his remaining inventory on them. He was even ready to let the tickets go at cost just so he wouldn't lose his ass on the whole deal.
    Holding up a fan of passes in his left hand, he started to call out loudly, "Tickets, tickets here," but the words died in his throat as his eyes focused on what was approaching. Ten feet away, moving in a loping shuffle toward