36 Hours Read Online Free PDF Page B

and through the window heard the screeches of the infected as they scattered off the Jeep and ran for cover. I flung open the door and raced out there, to the Jeep. Hannah looked terrified, ashen-faced and red-eyed. I grabbed the doorknob. “Unlock it!”
    She shook her head. The infected were out on the street. Les was still shooting, sending them this way and that. Paintballs splattered everywhere. “ Hannah!
    You have to open the door!” She did, and I grabbed her arm, yanking her out. The paintballs ran out. The Smiths cocked their heads and stared at us; one revealed a maw of yel ow teeth.
    Anthony Barnhart
    36 Hours
    26
    They charged.
    “Hannah! Faster!” We ran up to the door. I shoved Hannah inside. The Smiths ran past the Jeep, barreling right for us. No longer the innocent grandparents.
    Monsters.
    I dove inside and slammed the door shut, locking it. The door shook as the Smiths threw themselves against it. Dust fluttered off the hinges. I feared the hinges would snap and they’d stumble inside. But the door stopped shaking. Hannah had fallen to the ground. I went to the window. The Smiths meandered around the Jeep. A man was running down the sidewalk, running with no direction. The Smiths growled and ran at him. I turned my head and went over to Hannah.
    “You okay?”
    She nodded, curled upon the ground, holding back more tears. My heart pounded. Les came running from downstairs. The paintball gun was in his hands.
    “Thanks,” I said. “Disaster avoided.”
    Les said, “It’s not safe down here. That glass could break. Upstairs. Jack’s room has about fifteen hundred locks on the door, bolted windows and a bathroom.” We followed him up the twisting staircase and into Jack’s room. Les shut the door, twisted the lock. A desk, a dresser. Television. Bed. Jack was off at college. Left that morning. Windows overlooked the side yard and the street. The door to the bathroom was on one hinge. That window peered into the backyard. A toilet, a shower, some cabinets, a sink. Water.
    I ran some into cupped hands and drank it down greedily. Les stood by the window, looking down at the street, the neighborhood homes. Hannah sat on the bed, staring at the wall, no doubt listening to the muffled sounds of Hell on earth. Dried my hands, exited the bathroom. Les said over his shoulder, “The Smiths are gone. There’s others, though. They look like demons out of hell.”
    “Don’t let them see you.”
    “They can’t get in here,” Les replied.
    Shattering glass downstairs, hollers floating to the door. Hannah stared at the door-knob.
    I croaked, “Sure about that?”
    Anthony Barnhart
    36 Hours
    27
    Les ducked away from the window and sat down next to Hannah , pointing the gun at the door. I stood near the bathroom. It was comical, a paintball gun. What were we thinking? Silence. Then the sound of pots falling from the downstairs kitchen. Les’ dog started barking. Another sound in the barking. The barking stopped, cut off by a rising squeal, then tapering off in a mangy gurgle. Les’ eyes glazed over, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. Scuffling feet. Sweat dripped down my face. The fan overhead hung low, turned off. I yearned so much for its breeze. Hannah was whimpering; Les held the paintball gun and pointed it at the door. So scared.
    Someone was moving around downstairs. Suddenly I looked over to Les, and mouthed, Your mom?
    He didn’t notice. I returned my gaze to the door. It seemed to loom bigger and bigger.
    The feet tampered downstairs, then began coming up the steps. Creak-creak- creak . Each step resounding, sending fear riveting through us. Hannah’s whimpering was growing louder. Tears swelled under her eyes. Who could really blame her? She opened her mouth, dragging for air. Les stared at her in horror. I rushed forward, lightly, and threw my hand over her mouth, muffling a cry. The footsteps stopped.
    Silence. Eternity.
    Then the person came for the door, and stopped right outside it. A