Escape by T.W. Piperbrook Read Free Book Online Page A

with an upturned hand. Beneath them were the bodies of the creatures he’d shot earlier. He scanned the lifeless limbs, certain that one would spring to life, but all remained still.
    He cracked the door.
    The main floor of the bank was dark and dismal, empty, but he knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Chances were that the commotion had roused other things in the area and they’d be coming soon.
    “Come on,” he hissed.
    He led the pair through the bank, stepping over the paperwork and debris he’d traversed just minutes earlier. To his right were the glass offices and windows. He kept one eye trained on the outside.
    When they were halfway across the bank, he saw movement outside.
    Dan paused mid-step.
    “What is it?” Quinn whispered.
    He put his finger to his lips, waited. The movement was coming from a bakery across the street. Inside the building, he could see several smashed coolers, a table and chairs, and a counter. Everything beyond that was black. He strained his eyes, but none of the shadows changed shape and nothing moved.
    “I’m not sure. Let’s go. Carefully.”
    He pulled them onward. When they reached the front door, he inched it open with his forearm. The road in front of them was deserted. The station wagon was parked just as he’d left it, a blue beacon in an otherwise demolished landscape.
    Dan pushed the door open the remainder of the way. The hinges squeaked, echoing into the street and the surrounding buildings. Without the hum of electricity or the din of traffic, the entire city had become a conduit for sound, and he shuddered at the disturbance.
    Before they could proceed, footsteps sounded, and he pushed the girls back inside.
    He pressed his back against the open door. The beat grew louder. Clutching the pistol between his palms, he snuck a glance into the street.
    To his surprise, the source was immediately apparent. Rather than one of the creatures, the footsteps belonged to a man.
    The man was running in a full sprint down the middle of the street. He was wearing a black jean jacket and dark jeans, sporting a thick shock of black hair and several days worth of scruff. Dan knew the man from town—he’d been arrested multiple times for theft. The man’s name was Reginald Morris. By the looks of it, the man had somehow survived the infection.
    But what was he doing out in the open, and why was he running?
    And more importantly, what was he running from ?
    Dan stuck his head back out in the open, but saw nothing in pursuit of the man. Reginald had quickly closed the gap between the bakery and the front of the bank. His feet pounded the pavement, and his breathing was loud and uneven.
    The man threw a glance over his shoulder, then at the bank, locking eyes with Dan.
    “Reginald!”
    Dan stepped out into the open and waved his hands, but the man continued, ignoring his cry. Reginald tore up alongside the station wagon, tried the handle, and flung open the door. Then he jumped inside.
    “What’re you doing?” Dan shouted.
    Dan dashed into the street, frantically trying to stop the man, but it was too late. The door locks had already clicked shut and Reginald had started the engine.
    Before Dan could react, the man peeled off down the street, leaving a plume of exhaust in his wake.
    Quinn and Sandy ran up behind him, both of them yelling as well.
    Dan wiped his hands across his face, resisting the urge to scream out in frustration. Even if he did, there’d be no one to blame but himself.
    He’d left the keys in the car on purpose, to allow his daughter a means of escape should something happen to him. He’d had no idea that she would end up leaving the car, no idea that she wouldn’t think to take the keys.
    More importantly, he couldn’t have predicted that another survivor would stumble across them, using the opportunity to rob them of the only thing in the world they had left.
    It was a chain of events that, in retrospect, could only be credited to bad