Roads Less Traveled by C. Dulaney Read Free Book Online Page B

of Mike before the others could stop him.
    A right-handed upper-cut slammed Mike onto the floor by the staircase, knocking over a ficus plant and spilling soil onto the hardwood floor. Jake had his hands around the antagonist’s throat and was intent on shutting the mouthy asshole up, even if he had to choke him to death to do it. His face was twisted in fury as he screamed through clenched teeth.
    “You sonofabitch!” he cried as he released the stranglehold and started wailing on Mike with his fists. Zack and Ben both tried to pull him off, both getting elbowed in the chin and nose by Jake’s frantic jabs and punches. Kyra jumped to her feet, helpless to stop the attack. Over and over Jake’s fists pounded as his agony and grief poured through them. Again the other men tried restraining him and again Jake turned on them, shoving them away before returning to Mike’s bloodied face.
    “Stop that right this instant,” a calm and commanding voice said. Zack, Ben and Kyra looked up instantly and saw Mrs. McKinley on the stairs, her hands on the banister, and her eyes on her grandson. Jake stopped mid-swing and stared at her. Mike was gasping; Jake had gripped his left hand around Mike’s throat again. Blood poured from his mouth and nose, and his cheek and eye were also bruised and swelling.
    “Jacob McKinley, I said stop this instant,” she repeated as she started down the steps. Ben went around and met her at the bottom, taking her hand to help steady her. Zack reached down, grabbed Jake by the collar, and yanked him off Mike.
    “Grandma,” Jake stuttered. His face was flushed red and his fists were bleeding. He stood there as Zack held him by the scruff of his neck looking like a kid who had just been caught eating a cookie before dinner. Mike coughed and gagged as he rubbed his throat and rolled to one side to spit out a mouthful of blood. And a couple of teeth. Mrs. McKinley slowly approached Jake, Ben still at her elbow, until she was standing face to face with him.
    “Is this how we treat guests, Jacob?” she asked, glancing down at Mike and shaking her head in that sad way only a mother (or a grandmother in this case), can. “You weren’t raised in a barn, young man.”
    Kyra had edged closer to the others and, after a long moment of silence, finally spoke. “Mrs. McKinley, you should sit and rest. Let me bring you a cup of tea, or water if you like?” Kyra asked. The older woman turned and smiled.
    “You may call me Nancy, and tea would be lovely, dear.”

Chapter Five
     
     
    October 1 st : the first night
     
    I sat at the kitchen table for hours after hearing Ben’s account of what had happened at the farm. The coffee pot had long since been drained and Gus was fast asleep at my feet. The moon was bright outside, but inside it was total darkness. Lost in my brooding thoughts, I had neglected to turn on any of the lights. I had also neglected my stomach, which was telling me it was way past suppertime. I went to the cupboard and grabbed a granola bar, then stood and looked out the only first floor window I hadn’t boarded up. I figured being small and over the kitchen sink, it was unlikely a deadhead would barge in anytime soon.
    My mind kept going back and circling the same thought, the one which had anchored me to the kitchen table until my legs were numb. Just how many ways were there to die now in this new reality? Of course the obvious was death by zombie. The second obvious, at least to me, was suicide. But I hadn’t thought about the other, more devious and underhanded ways, to die. Perhaps it was my scientific nature. Add to that my thick cynicism and thick head, and I realized I was thinking inside the box.
    If Jake hadn’t snapped his grandmother out of her self-pitying trance by beating the crap out of the village idiot, I’m sure she would have died. Just sat there and starved to death. Actually she would have died of dehydration first, but I digress. Can someone actually decide