The King of Clayfield - 01 by Shane Gregory Read Free Book Online Page A

the closet that I didn't wear much, but I kept them around in case I ever needed to do any work outside. I put them on and took the box of toiletries, the magazines, and the suitcase out to the Blazer.
    While I was out there, I removed the child's car seat. There was still a sippy cup in the little cup holder. It made me sad. Once it was out, I brushed out the stale Cheerios and raisins that were in the backseat. Then I went back in to pack my food.
    I thought I had been running low on food and had been planning to go to the grocery since Tuesday. But when I got in the fridge and cupboard, I found a lot there. I always had food in there that I forgot about or ignored, like boxed rice mixes or cans of vegetables that I rarely ate. It had become a little like the clutter around my desk, and eventually I didn't see it in there anymore.   Some of it was close to or a little past the Use By date, but it was food. It all fit into three file boxes.
    I opened a granola bar and ate it. I hadn't realized how hungry I was, and I wound up eating two more and finishing off a bottle of grape juice.
    Once the food was in the back of the Blazer with the other stuff, I loaded all the water I had bottled up the night before, which took up half the floorboard in the back seat--two half gallon juice bottles, and six smaller bottles. Then, I went back in for another sweep of anything I might need.
    I bagged up a couple of blankets and a pillow, and put them by the door. I put my laptop and the stack of papers I'd printed next to that. I put on my heavy coat, and tied a dishtowel around my nose and mouth. I couldn't think of anything else. If I needed some of the personal items, I could come back for them later.
    I loaded the last of the stuff. The back of the truck was crammed. Then I locked the house and opened the garage door. It was so quiet. No car engines. No voices. No hum from the wires on the poles   running down the street. Not even a dog barking.   There was no one around, and the snow hadn't been disturbed, so no one had been around for a while. The smell of smoke was strong; it had settled low and close to the ground.
    I   backed the Blazer out then got out and shut the garage door. The driveway was a little slippery.   When I got back in, I put it in four-wheel drive.
    I saw fourteen dead bodies as I headed south on my way to Jen's house on College Street. I didn't know if they'd been murdered by the infected or   had succumbed to the cold.   I saw only two people out walking around,   but I didn't stop; I didn't want to risk it.
    I did see an older tan Ford pick-up truck   driving   one block over and headed north as I crossed over Walnut Street.   The back of the truck was   piled with stuff, and there was a tarp tied over it. I just caught a glimpse, and they didn't slow down. I   turned at the next intersection and circled around to chase them down, but by then, they were gone.
    When I got to 131 College Street, it was   after 10:30   a.m.   Jen lived in a little white   house, not that   much different than mine. I pulled the truck up into   the yard,   with the passenger side close to the front porch steps. The front door was standing wide open. I waited a moment to allow   her and   anyone else inside time to come out, but no one did.
    "Shit,"   I said. My own voice sounded odd. Then I realized I   hadn't said a word since yesterday when I'd screamed at the boy behind my car.
    The tobacco stick was still in the front seat. I grabbed it and got out, leaving the engine running. Going up the porch, I noticed footprints in the snow on the steps coming out of the house and headed down the street.
    Cautiously, I stopped in the doorway and looked inside. To the left, along the wall, there was a door, and next to that   was a couch that had been folded out into a bed. The bed was unmade. On the other side of the room, a lamp lay in the floor. Pictures were crooked on the wall. I could smell feces.
    I wanted to