Slow Burn (Book 4): Dead Fire by Bobby Adair Read Free Book Online

that just had to be inside.
    I stepped up onto a big terracotta flowerpot to get a view up the street. A steady trickle of infected were coming out of the cedars up around where the gate to Sarah Mansfield’s compound stood. The plan appeared to be working. A short distance down the road, I spotted another car, much newer and much smaller. If my luck held, it also had an obnoxious alarm. And that was the updated plan—smash, wail, repeat. Work my way down the street.
    To my surprise, the plan worked w ithout incident. I tripped the alarms on five cars, the furthest a mile down Mt. Bonnell Road and around a sharp bend. At that point, the street behind me was overrun with Whites, manic in their search for edible people in and around the bleating cars.
    It was time to head home.
    As promised, Dalhover and Specialist Harris were waiting for me when I arrived back at the wall. The knotted sheet-rope hung down from the top of the wall and I barely had to expend any effort as they dragged me up. The wide arc of the coppice worked in our favor for that.
    Leaving our makeshift ladder in place, we headed back inside.
    “I didn’t check the front gate,” I said. “Did it work?”
    Dalhover gave me a nod and the faintest of smiles. High praise from him.
    “Any trouble?” Specialist Harris asked.
    I shrugged. What was there to say about that?
    We climbed up a wall at the back of one of the tiers. I checked my watch then looked up at the sky. It was just starting to turn gray in the east.
    Finally, the end of a long, long, fucked up night.

Chapter 7
    Sleep came easier and deeper than I ever would have guessed possible. I didn’t dream. I didn’t stir.
    When I woke again, laying flat in a recliner in the theater, the only sounds were those of Murphy’s deep breathing and Mandi’s light snoring. I checked my watch. It was after nine, and I was starved. Quietly, so as not to disturb the sleepers, I got up and exited the theater, visited the restroom to take care of necessary business, and threw some water on my face.
    In the mirror, I looked thinner and couldn’t help but run a hand over the hollows in my cheeks. My hair wasn’t to the unruly stage yet, though I’d need a haircut soon. Well, I’d want a haircut soon. Wants and needs were different now. At least living in the Mansfield mansion afforded me the luxury of washing my hair and shaving every day. Electricity and water made personal hygiene so easy.
    Feeling rested , but a touch groggy, I was wondering what troubles the new day would bring when I came out of the restroom and walked up to the theater-style snack bar, behind which Sergeant Dalhover had positioned himself with one foot propped up on a shelf, savoring a cigarette. He was watching across the foyer where Freitag was having a tense but hushed conversation with Steph. Steph was inside the video room. Freitag was in the doorway.
    I leaned on the snack bar counter and gave Dalhover a nod. I asked, “Any update on Murphy?”
    Dalhover shook his head. “Is he still unconscious?”
    “Yeah .”
    Dalhover shook his head again. “It would be better if he was awake.”
    Of course! I nodded. “What does Steph think?”
    “ She says we won’t know until he wakes up.”
    I looked at my watch. “It’s only been, what , nine or ten hours? That’s not abnormal, right?”
    Dalhover’s eyebrows knit. “More like twenty-four, Rip Van Winkle.”
    “What?”
    Dalhover tapped a finger on the face of my watch. “P.m., not a.m.”
    I looked at him like he’d lost his senses.
    “You slept all day.”
    “Wow.” I rubbed my hands over my face and shook my head . I looked back at Dalhover, still not sure whether to believe him.
    “Go up top and look outside. It’s dark again.”
    “I guess I must have needed the sleep.”
    Dalhover nodded and reached under the counter . He pulled out a box of chocolate candies from inside the glass display case and laid them in front of me. “You should eat