Dead South Rising (Book 2): Death Row Read Free Page A

tennis courts, though, the adults would have to take out all those extra people, first. Put them in the pool with the rest of his tug-o-war friends. Right now, there was no room for him or Charlie in there. An even bigger group of ‘friends’ was busy playing behind the tennis court fences. He wanted to play tug-o-war with them, too. Not leave them out of the fun. But the field—and the tennis courts—were forbidden .
    Bryan wondered if he’d have to go back to school when summer was over, wondered if—
    “Ow, ow, ow,” he hissed to no one, hopping on one foot.
    He didn’t want to, had promised Doc he wouldn’t, but he had to set the important box down for a minute, a slight detour on his Christmas-in-July delivery mission. Something had pinched his shoeless foot. He tried to be tough, just like David, but he couldn’t ignore it. He decided he would leave this part out, about stopping to check his foot.  
    Bryan really wanted to get his shoe back from his pool friends, but he’d been too nervous to ask Doc about it. Besides, the man seemed in a hurry to get the box to David, and Bryan’s friends were still playing keep-away with the shoe. They seemed to like them a lot—both the shoe and the game.  
    Knowing time was important—‘ critical ’ was the word Doc used—Bryan sat on the concrete and tweezed at his sock, removing the offending sticker burr in a hurry. He drew in a shallow breath through clenched teeth, and a tiny dot of blood showed up on his dirty sock. It still hurt a little, but at least the sticker was out.
    Interest in his foot slowly trumped that of the box. He wondered how bad the hole was, how much it would bleed. Deciding he was just being a baby, he stood, flicking the burr toward the gate. He tested his foot, slowly shifting his weight onto it.
    Better.
    Satisfied with his handiwork, he snatched the box, climbed the dock stairs to the door that led into the warehouse. Beyond the double-doors would be the hallway, then finally David’s room by the nurses’ station. It was time to hurry, he reckoned. Doctor Holliday had said he’d watch Bryan to be sure he made it through the gate. Once inside, though, it was up to Bryan. He was on his own.  
    I know you’re tough. You can do it.
    Bryan had smiled at this.
    Shifting the package to one arm, he tugged the heavy door open just enough for him and the package to slip through, and entered the warehouse. He couldn’t wait to see David’s face.  
    * * *
    Even before the massive door clanked shut, shoving Bryan in the back like some playground bully, he heard the hissing whispers. His pupils fought to catch up with his ears in the wan warehouse light, the brightness of day hanging on tight. Robbed him of sight, allowing only ebbing shadows to mix with the fiery outlines of the outside still emblazoned on his vision.
    Somewhere, off to his left, a stack of boxes fell, and he flinched. A scuffing sound against the smooth cement floor. More whispers. A cough. And a smell. A strange smell. One he wasn’t familiar with.
    His heart on high alert, he strained to see, his ears and nose telling him scary things. Things that his grandpa used to tell him weren’t really there. Things that were just in his imagination.
    Imagination.
    Another word he liked, enjoyed saying.
    It’s in my… imagination.
    But his imagination seemed awfully real right then, and he considered pushing back against the door that had pushed him so rudely, and wait outside for a bit. Let the shadows stop talking and go away. Maybe one—or more—of his tug-o-war friends had decided to play in the warehouse. Decided to play another game.
    Hide and go seek.
    Another cough, from the same area. A figure emerged. A scary silhouette. Then another.
    Bryan’s eyes were still telling lies. His throat felt fat, like he hadn’t chewed his food all the way before swallowing. Or evil hands had found his neck.
    The two figures moved closer.
    “Well, fuck me. It’s just some kid.”