Carlie Simmons (Book 1): Until Morning Comes by JT Sawyer Read Free Book Online Page B

just get those keys and my trusty
daypack out of the trunk, life will be relatively peachy, he thought as
the faint odor of dried flesh from the pavement pierced his nostrils. No way
I can stay here in this damaged rig, despite the nice leather seats. He raised
his head slowly above the bars, looking past the dead marshal on the
passenger’s side and out at the four figures on the sidewalk by an overturned
ice-cream cart. Jared panned his head around the city block in search of other
survivors but only saw body parts, abandoned vehicles, and darkened buildings.
Again, he noted the campus structure two blocks away, which had a single light
on in the lobby.
    Hmm…that place seems like my best bet
and may offer the hope of other survivors…strength in numbers and all that. But I need a
distraction if I’m gonna have a chance of even making it there on foot. He
looked around at the street ahead and back at the body of the marshal. Then he
mulled over his options and finally raised his eyebrows in wonder.
    “Hell, yeah, Jared—you are a genius, a Confederate
Einstein,” he whispered, while a slight frown crept out from the corner of his
mouth. Jared looked down at his shaking hands with a look of surprise. He had
always been the cool-handed thief with unruffled nerves but now he was trembling
in fear like he was a newbie working his first heist.
    Jared took a deep breath and tried to
drive away the horrific images on the street from his mind. He refocused on his
escape plan and ran through it like he was rehearsing for a house robbery,
visualizing his actions and contingencies. When he was confident of his scheme,
Jared raised his head and scanned the surrounding streets one more time. “If
all else fails, I’m gonna take a bunch of those cantaloupe heads with me,” he
whispered while palming the Glock.
    He waited for the four nearby creatures
to delve into the carcass and then he took a deep breath and began moving.
Slowly opening the left rear door, he slid onto the entrail-encrusted pavement,
shuffling towards the deceased marshal, taking pains not to soil his Nikes by
stepping in any blood. Then he scanned along the nylon ballistic belt for any
signs of the handcuff keys, then padded the soiled pockets. He felt something
in the front pants pocket and reached inside and pulled out a pair of stainless-steel
keys, trying to suppress a slight grin.
    Then he moved backwards to the driver’s
door and insinuated himself between the seat and the punctured air bag, trying
not to look at the bloated figure beside him. He removed a folding knife from
the pants pocket of the deceased marshal and flicked it open, then pierced the
edge of the airbag. The marshal collapsed into the door, his head thunking
against the tinted window. The engine was still idling and the vent blew a
stream of cold air across the man’s pale forehead and his unblinking eyes.
    Jared stowed the blade and removed the marshal’s
pistol and spare magazines. Then he began working the miniscule key into the
left cuff while crouching low. With one side free, he inserted the key into the
right cuff, but it wouldn’t fit. He tried again but the key would only enter
part way. He grimaced and slowly tried manipulating the key, but something was
jammed in the tiny portal, preventing entry. “What the hell are these, some cheap
Asian imports?” he muttered as he switched to forcefully trying to make the key
fit. As he twisted it in place and started cursing, his right foot accidentally
thrust the ignition pedal down, causing the engine to rev. Out of all the
times to have trouble getting out of handcuffs, it has to be today, really?
    Jared froze and looked over the half-arc
of the steering wheel at the four creatures on the sidewalk, which were now
standing and sniffing the air. “Shit, looks like our getaway just got bumped
up, partner,” he said, sitting erect and glancing at the body next to him. He
stuffed the key in his shirt pocket and thrust the shifter