36 Hours Read Online Free PDF

wheels and staining the forest green paint. The confusion from Main Street had not reached them yet. I yanked the Jeep to a halt, pulling up into the driveway of Les’ home. I opened the door.
    Hannah gawked at me. “What are you doing? Don’t go out there!”
    “I have to get Les.” Les was home-schooled. He should be there. Anthony Barnhart
    36 Hours
    24
    “No…”
    I slammed the door and raced up the steps to their front door. Rang the doorbell. Why not just go inside? Strange how one reacts under pressure. Tried the handle. Locked. Heard shouts and shrieks and horns and the roaring fire. Smoke leaked into the sky. The sky-scrapers in the distance were wearing smoke, ashes, fire and brimstone like the crowns of hell. A neighbor yelled, “What’s going on!”
    “Get inside!”
    Several infected appeared down by the street. They saw an older woman and ran for her.
    I looked to Hannah and motioned for her to come.
    She shook her head.
    The door opened. I barely noticed. An infected clambered down a fence next door, came right at me. Les opened the door. I jumped inside. Saw Hannah. She was locking the Jeep doors. I slammed the front door and locked it with haste. Les stared at me in ultimate confusion. It was silent in his home. The walls were sound-proof.
    Falling against the wall, I gasped for breath. Afraid I would slip into shock.
    “What are you here for?” Les asked. I guess he saw the fear in my crystal ine eyes. “Are you okay?”
    I shook my head no. “Les… Have you heard-“
    “Heard what?”
    “Outside?”
    “It sounds like terrorists.” He reached for the door. I slapped his hands away. “No. You can’t go out there!”
    “Why not?”
    “Because they’re out there!”
    The large bay window shuttered. Les peered over, and recoiled in shock. The neighbor I had talked to just moments before sprayed the window with blood from a wound on the neck. Rabid eyes. I shuddered to look. The palms pressed against the window. The eyes stared at us. Chest heaved. Blood dripped down the shirt.
    “That’s Mr. Gray!” Les shouted. “We have to-“
    “No.” I blocked his way to the door. “It isn’t Mr. Gray. Not anymore.”
    “What?”
    “Do you see him? See his eyes?”
    Anthony Barnhart
    36 Hours
    25
    But Mr. Gray was gone. Blood smeared the window. Les went closer.
    “Austin! It’s Hannah.”
    “She’s in the Jeep.” I looked down at my legs and arms. They shook so hard I thought I’d fall.
    “The Smiths down the street are trying to get in.”
    I ran over to the window, standing beside him. Infected clambered over the car. An older man and woman. The spots of blood on the clothes implied Mr. Smith had killed his wife, and the two of them became infected and exploded from their little retirement home. Smith was atop the Jeep, pressing his head, hands, knees and feet against the cold top. His wife—what was left of her—
    squatted next to Hannah’s door, wrestling the door-jamb, snarling into the window. More infected swarmed from the homes.
    “Are all your doors locked?” I breathed.
    “All of them. Since you locked this one.”
    Honking, a car crash, shearing metal. Down the street. The floor rocked.
    “We have to get her out of there.”
    “The Smiths are nice people, I wouldn’t-“
    “Les, just shut up and look at them! Here’s my plan—you have a paintball gun, don’t you?”
    He nodded. “It’s in Jack’s room.”
    “Get it. Shoot from the window, down at the Jeep. It should scatter your neighbors. And I’ll grab Hannah and we’ll come back in. Sound good?”
    “That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. You’re going to get hurt.”
    “I know. Do it.”
    He rolled his eyes and raced up the steps. I stood by the front door, unlocking it. Grabbed the knob. Rested my shoulder against the door in case anyone—
    any thing —tried to get in. Clattering and shuffling upstairs. A pause. Creaking. The upstairs window opening. Then I heard the pops from upstairs,