Dead Series (Book 3): A Little More Alive Read Free Page B

short-lived relief.
    Bullets pelted the
doorframe around him, bringing plaster and debris down on their heads. The
hallway was long and narrow, constructed of cinderblock walls holding in the
cold. The door slowly shut behind them. Their shoes slapped against concrete,
echoing loudly in their ears. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw everyone still
on their feet, flashlights and guns swinging in their hands. They slowed down
at the end of the hall, inspecting a t-intersection with another metal door perched
at each end. Another choice with life or death hanging in the balance.
    “Which way?”
Curtis panted.
    The door flew open
behind them and banged against the wall. A younger man wearing glasses followed
a pear-shaped woman with dark skin and a heavy scowl into the hallway, both
wearing street clothes and guns blazing. Paul ran to the right, thinking it
would lead them to the backdoor they came in through. Billy and Stephanie ran
backwards, wasting precious ammo that ricocheted off the walls and stung their
eardrums. Bursting through the door, Paul’s heart sank. He ran hard for the two
doors sitting at the end of another long hallway and everything slowed down in
his mind. He had time to realize they were quickly becoming corralled like cattle.
Had time to understand that if he picked the wrong door at the end of this hallway
they were as good as dead. Had time to see Dan poke his bloody head out the
door on the left and give Paul a quick nod before disappearing altogether.
    Seizing the doorknob
on the left, Paul whipped it back and burst outside, leading them through the
falling snow and searching for Dan’s footprints in the frosted grass. They
weaved between rows of similar looking brick buildings with white-painted trim
and dead bushes, gasping for air to cool their burning lungs. Paul took a sharp
right, cutting through a tree line that scratched at his cheeks and grabbed at
his clothing. Then they were free, spilling into a small town that looked like
Main Street, USA back in the 1950s. The group raced down the deserted street,
passing different shops and restaurants, legs aching and guns clutched tightly
in their hands. Halfway down the block, Paul steered them into a coffee shop
and slammed the door shut behind them. His face fell, taking in the raw
two-by-fours holding the façade up and the gray sky hovering above. Confusion
swelled in their eyes. The dead guy in fatigues leaning against a diagonal
support beam only added to their dismay. The bullet hole in his forehead pulled
a stubborn sigh from Paul’s lips.
    “What is this
place?” Billy whispered, snowflakes lighting on his face.
    “It’s a fake
town.” Paul peeked through a pane glass window, canvassing the street for the
man and woman trying to kill them.
    “Fake town?” Billy
scrunched his nose up. “For what?”
    “Probably practicing
military drills.”
    Curtis spun Paul
around by the arm. “Who the hell was that?”
    White plumes of
smoke jutted from Paul’s gaping mouth. “Somebody just as afraid of us as we are
of them.”
    Curtis shook his
head. “No, I mean the guy who stuck his head out that door back there.”
    The floor dropped
out beneath Paul and suddenly he was freefalling through the Earth’s core at a
hundred and twenty miles an hour, passing layers upon layers of crust, mantel,
and liquid nickel. He slammed Curtis up against the front wall, rattling the
windows on either side of the door and curling his jacket into his fists. “You
saw him?” he yelled, tendons throbbing in his neck.
    “Paul,” Stephanie
said, setting a hand on his shoulder.
    Curtis stared up
into Paul’s heated glower, pinned against the wall with bewilderment creasing
his brow. “Blond guy missing half his face? Yeah, I saw him.”
    He stared hard at
Curtis with his ears ringing and disbelief pressing against the back of his
eyes. Pushing off, he turned away and ran his hands through his messy brown
hair because this couldn’t be. Because this was