Only The Dead Don't Die by A.D. Popovich Read Free Book Online

pain in her right shin. She ignored the pain. She ran. No one answered at the next house or the next house. Every time she stopped to scream for help and bang on the front door— they got closer, much closer. This is definitely not working.
    Scarlett stopped to catch her breath, observing as they approached in a sort of hypnotic-like state. They did seem to be in a state of shock and not coherent, more like they were in a daze. Maybe I can outsmart them ? She ran over to the next house in plain sight, making sure they saw her; then she ran to the side of the house and ducked behind a juniper bush. She found herself frantically scanning the area for an exit route, out of their field of vision. Her only option was to jump the fence and double back through all the backyards to get back to her car.
    Scarlett managed to jump the fences with the help of lawn furniture and after running through five beautifully landscaped yards, she decided to chance it for a view of the street. She tiptoed and inched her way ever so slowly, pressing her body against the side of a house, holding her breath. She stopped. Scuffling sounds came from the street. She had to look. If she had calculated right, her car should be right there, and she could make a mad dash to the car and get the hell out of here.
    Timidly, she nosed her head around the side of the house and was relieved to see her car. To Scarlett’s dismay, there must have been a dozen of them loitering about her car. Some were even peering into the car’s windows, pounding on the glass, waiting for it to give in. Perhaps she had outsmarted the crazies that had been chasing her, but there were more of them waiting for her to return. Where had the y come from?
    Scarlett heard a dog’s frantic barking, then its warning growl. She continued to peek around the edge of the house and watched as the congregation of severely injured plane crash survivors appeared to be encircling the Golden Retriever. The dog’s growls turned into a mournful howl as they closed in on the helpless dog. The howling morphed into high-pitched yelps. I can’t bear this. What are they doing to that poor dog? She didn’t wait to find out.
    Scarlett edged her way to the backyard, making sure they didn’t spot her. She tried knocking softly on the back door of the huge, fancy house. No one answered of course. There didn’t seem to be a single person left in the entire city of Roseville, which got her thinking about that stupid movie Left Behind . Actually, she hadn’t watched the movie, but now she certainly wished she had. Maybe then she’d know what to do as a dizzy-flash of paranoia encroached. Was she the only sane person left in Roseville? Or was she the crazy one?
    Scarlett hastily fiddled with the door. Damn! It’s locked. She even peered through the kitchen window but resisted the urge to break in, knowing the sound of broken glass would surely alert them. They seemed almost primal, like a pack of predatory animals the way they had cornered the dog. If they found her, would they do the same thing to her: corner her? And then what? Had they killed the Golden Retriever? She shuddered at the thought.
    Scarlett quickly scanned the backyard in search for a place to hide. Until it was safe—until they were gone. Apparently, the yard had been professionally landscaped; it looked like a full-color double page spread right out of Better Homes and Gardens with a redwood deck trimmed swimming pool and matching spa. Ornate Greek-style urns surrounded the deck like ancient sentry posts forgotten by time while their brittle occupants of sun-dried hanging vines disintegrated in the evening breeze. A huge built-in barbecue (like one of those expensive Fire Magic Grills they sell at California Backyard) and an elegant wrought iron set of patio furniture sat proudly on the redwood deck. Jeez, who lives like this ?
    Her nerves couldn’t handle much more of this. She needed a place to hide. She didn’t understand this