Free The Living Dead Series (Book 2): World Without End by L.I. Albemont Page B

Olivet Square. Lights were on in some of the 19 th century row houses circling the little cul-de-sac but the curtains and blinds were drawn and no movement inside was visible.
    An ambulance, interior lights on, exterior lights still flashing, lay flipped on its side. A sheet-covered figure writhed and strained against the restraining straps of a gurney. David lifted the sheet for a glance then quickly dropped it. The snow around the vehicle was trampled and footprints led off in every direction but whatever had happened here was over, everyone was gone. But where?
    They cut across the square going into a fenced-off alleyway that served the homeowners as parking space and a place for trash pick-up. Back here some of the residents had started tiny gardens or just green spaces for a pet or maybe a child; all of them yearning for a connection to something living and fresh in the concrete and stone city. Everything here was quiet, unnaturally so. Children should be out sledding, building snowmen or just throwing snowballs at each other.
    The clock tower on the Episcopal Church was silhouetted against the silvery sky. It was almost noon and soon the melodic, deep chimes from the bell tower filled the afternoon quiet. David continued to search for a short cut that would let them bypass the more commercial areas along the route to Dupont Circle but the alleyway terminated in a block wall and they turned back reluctantly, returning to the square where they found that they now had company.
    Staggering figures trickled into the snow-filled little street. David didn’t know where they had come from, maybe there was another alley behind the houses across the streets. There were already too many for the three of them to get back out the way they had come in.
    The clock tower continued striking its sonorous notes. It seemed to be malfunctioning and wouldn’t stop striking. Every time it struck more infected people staggered into the streets.
    It was the sound, David thought, that’s what draws them in. He had already realized their vision was affected negatively but their hearing was razor sharp. Right now the infected weren’t paying attention to them but they had no hope of getting around them and back out into the main street even if they wanted to. They backed up to the front door of the closest townhouse and huddled together on the front stoop as the street filled. David picked up a snow shovel someone had left leaning against the rail and began trying frenziedly to break the door down.
    The sound attracted attention. Slowly, the infected at the edge of the crowd began to turn their way. Suddenly Brian darted off the stoop, nimbly evading the dead hands and ran to the back of the house.
    Bea screamed, “No, Brian, don’t!” and tried to run after him but David grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She punched him hard in the side of the head and they struggled viciously for a few seconds before they heard glass shatter. They stood still, listening.
    The front door swung open to reveal Brian beckoning them inside. They slammed the door and locked it just as the mob reached the porch.
    “How did you get in?” Bea was so angry she wanted to shake him.
    Brian held up a good-sized rock and grinned. “I broke the glass in the back door.”
    David rubbed the side of his head. His ear still rang from the punch she had given him and he told himself he would never try to stop her from killing herself again. He secured the house, rifle held at ready and not stopping until he had checked every room and closet. Whoever owned this house was not at home.
    The church clock was still sounding, drawing more and more infected into the streets. He drew all the curtains even though he didn’t think the dead could see them. Bea and her brother had moved into the kitchen and from the sound of their voices they were arguing. Just off the foyer was a small, high-ceilinged room with a fireplace. Bookshelves covered the walls from floor to ceiling. He