Dead South Rising (Book 2): Death Row by Sean Robert Lang Read Free Book Online Page A

beaten. While his dead wife watched.
    Another damn tear. He thought of scraping it away with the blade, of plunging the steel into his own eye to end the tears. Then he’d cry blood, a more fitting tribute. Instead, he let it be.
    He rested his hand on the box, adjusting his grip on the knife. Then sighed. He just wasn’t up for this. Not now. But the boy had gone through God knows how much trouble, and David owed him that much.
    Open your present. Smile. Nod. Thank him again. Don’t be an asshole. He’s just a kid, for Chrissake. Promise to get together with him later. Play catch or something. After you finish beating yourself up.
    Another sigh, heavier this time.
    At least smile at the kid.
    But traitorous muscles left him barely able to blink, breathe, let alone smile.
    “David.” Jessica’s voice clapped off the white cinder block walls with a snappy echo, and he flinched. He noticed Bryan flinch, too.
    His eye roved again, forced himself to move. Finally, he focused, funneling his attention to the box on his lap. He made short work of the clear tape, opened the flaps. Peered inside. And he was quiet. Still.
    “Well?” Jessica stood there, arms still crossed. “David, what is it? What’s inside?” She shot Bryan a smile, then looked at David again.
    He couldn’t move. Just stared. Spots pecked at his vision, his throat twisted. His heart kicked wildly against sore ribs. A shivering breath. The tears resumed like they’d never stopped. Deep within him, a different anger, a different sorrow, crashed, exploded.
    “David? You’re scaring me…”
    He didn’t hear her. All he could hear was the sound of another’s voice. The voice of a woman he had fallen in love with, had asked to marry him. Who had said yes and had bore his only child, Karla. A woman he’d promised to take care of, to love ’til death did them part.
    ’Til death do us part. Here’s one of my parts… dear.
    He couldn’t stop himself. He reached into the box, and held her hand once again, his thumb stroking the blood-caked skin. He recognized her hand, knew it was hers. Doubt did not exist. But if there were any doubt, it was quashed by the ring on the dainty decaying finger. He’d recognize that ring anywhere. He’d found it, picked it out, bought it. Gave it to her—a happy proposal on bended knee—and laid eyes on it everyday thereafter. Touched it when they’d held hands, just like now. He knew her hand well, and the ring was simply his last name attached.
    He wasn’t sure how long he sat there like that, holding his dead wife’s hand inside that box. It could have been seconds or minutes or hours. No way to tell. He didn’t hear Jessica scream, didn’t notice her run out of the room, yanking Bryan with her. Didn’t notice her come back into the room, tears streaming down her face, Randy in tow, along with Doctor Gonzalez, others. Didn’t notice them all looking at him, talking to him, at him, coaxing him to let go—to just let go .
    He’d found his wife. Or she’d found him.

Chapter 5

    With Southern Comfort-fueled patience, Tom Mackey waited. Sip, swallow, wait, repeat. His trigger fingers itched, craved a kill. A very important kill. The kill of his life.  
    He’s in there, dahlin’. And he’s alive, so says the boy.
    I know he is, Doc. And you will kill him. Soon. For me.
    For you. Soon. I will.
    Three days ago, he’d returned to Mitch’s place to retrieve his dead— murdered —wife’s body, to lay her to rest. Kate deserved a proper burial. He would not allow her to rot on the side of that shitty driveway like so much roadkill. And she was there, right where he’d left her that horrible night, after finding her viciously run over. Mauled by metal and rubber guided by the carelessness of a soon-to-be dead man.
    That goddamned David Morris.  
    And like any other faithful husband who loved his wife unconditionally, he broke down all over again, spilling endless tears over her, onto her. For her. He wished