Slow Burn: Dead Fire, Book 4 by Bobby Adair Read Free Book Online Page A

something.”
    Chocolate candies for breakfast late in the evening. Hmm.
    Dalhover read the look on my face and said, “Specialist Harris is in the kitchen making dinner for everyone. He says he was trained as a chef.”
    “I think I’ll wait for that, then.”
    “He just went upstairs. We were waiting for you and Mandi to get up before we ate dinner, but we’re all hungry. Nevertheless, it’ll probably be a bit before it’s done. Eat the candy.”
    He was right. “Could you give me a Coke , too?”
    Dalhover scooped up a cup full of ice and drew me a soda out of the fountain while I opened up the box of chocolate covered nuts. Over my shoulder, Freitag was getting animated with her irritation, and I turned to look, a little curious about what kind of bug she had up her ass. I was starting to think she probably had a whole crop of cultivated ass-bugs.
    I thanked Dalhover for the snack and then he fell silent, watching the exchange between Freitag and Steph. I took my ho rs d’oeuvres, crossed the foyer, and planted myself on the floor with my back against the glass wall of the wine cellar.
    Using one of Sarah Mansfield’s expensive, organically grown, hand-picked-by-a-happy-farmer-on-a-sustainable-farm Egyptian cotton towels, I started to clean the crud off of my machete blade. After that, I planned to spend some time cleaning up everything in my kit, at least until dinner was ready. I thought about asking Dalhover to give me some training on how to care for my rifle and my pistol.
    But as I sat there wiping and re-wiping the nicked blade, I couldn’t help but see that bird man’s body was still lying next to the wall across the foyer, and in spite of the sugar and caffeine working their way into my bloodstream, that dragged my mood down.
    Becoming t ransfixed on the amorphous, blanketed lump, I slowly wiped back and forth on the blade that had killed the man inside. I tried hard to put the memory of that clusterfuck out of my mind. I tried to think of something good to replace it with. My success at getting the Whites away from the gates the night before felt good to think about for nearly a whole second. But that led, of course, to memories of the no -screaming gymnast who’d paid for our safety with her life.
    Why were those memories even back?
    Repress!
    Repress!
    I gave nothingness a shot. The oblivious serenity of an empty mind, that’s what I longed for. How good would it be to shed all of my messy memories and live for a day in Russell’s blank mind?
    A gray void swallowed my thoughts , and for a little while, all that existed in my world was the zen of a clean blade. There was no dead bird man. There were no harsh, hushed arguments across the room. There were no cannibals with virus-laden brains.
    S omewhere in my nothingness, I started to feel okay.
    Dalhover kick ing a booted foot that was splayed out in front of me brought it all to an end. Awareness of reality was back. I looked up at him, too disappointed to be startled. I didn’t ask why he was getting my attention, I simply let the question hang in the expression on my face. Yes?
    Dalhover squatted down and leaned in close, his tobacco breath assaulting my senses again.
    Good Lord! There had to something going on in his mouth besides just poor dental hygiene.
    I looked past him. I no longer saw Freitag in the door of the video room. I didn’t see anyone in the foyer.
    “We need to get rid of the body.” Dalhover tilted his head slightly in the direction of the bird man.
    “Okay.” I quickly deduced that I was going to have a role in that chore.
    “Freitag wants to bury him outside.” Dalhover shook his head. His gesture made that idea se em like the stupidest thing he’d heard in a while.
    “The noise of digging might bring more infected in?” I guessed.
    Dalhover nodded.
    “What did you do with the other bodies?” I asked.
    Dalhover knew I was talking about Sarah Mansfield, her son, and the security guards. Dalhover, Murphy, and