A Little More Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

turned to his younger brother, face
slumping in the moonlight. “No…you didn’t.”
    “I did too.”
    “Didn’t.”
    “Did!”
    “Did not!”
    “Boys!” Carla glared at
them. “We have to be quiet now at all times. Do you understand me?”
    “Yes,” they said as one dull voice,
sinking back into the couch.
    “This isn’t a game, and we only get one
life.”
    Dan traded a worried look with Paul as silence
took the room, dense and cold to the touch. Carla was right, quiet was for the
best but it was also fuel for a mind spinning out of control.
    “Didn’t,” Mike whispered.
    “I’ll shoot you right fucking now!”
    “Matthew Jay Patton!” Carla slapped a
hand over her mouth, surprised and unnerved by her rise in volume. She flashed
everyone an apologetic look and softened her voice. “You are not shooting
anyone, and if I ever hear you use the F-word again...”
    Matt stared up her with his jaw
dangling. “You’ll what mom? Ground me?”
    Carla’s throat clicked dryly when she
swallowed. “We just need for you boys to keep quiet.” She stared at them
through wet eyes that meant business. “Okay?”
    They nodded, making way for a lull in
the conversation. Paul took Sophia by the hand and towed her to some pillows
and blankets behind the couch, wondering what it would look like out there tomorrow
morning when the sun slowly peeked over the eastern horizon like even it was afraid to look. So far, every morning
it looked a little worse. A little more dead. Paul laid down next to his wife and yawned, thanking God he and
Sophia never had that little girl or boy they were so desperately trying to
have. He couldn’t imagine what Carla must be going through and, thankfully,
didn’t have to try. For soon after, the Sandman was the only other intruder
that night, light on his feet and heavy in the hand.

 
 
 
 
    Chapter Five

 
    TWO DAYS BEFORE OUTBREAK

 
 
 
    Back at home, Paul hung his coat on a
coat rack behind the front door and rounded up some pre-Metallica empties,
cringing when he saw it was already past two in the morning.
    “I love your house.”
    He glanced at Rebecca from the open
kitchen, watching her dump her coat onto Sophia’s favorite chair. “Thanks.”
    “Your wife has a great sense of style.”
    Paul retrieved two cold beers from the
fridge, shuddering at the mention of his wife. This was so wrong it wasn’t even
funny. Another woman in Sophia’s house? At two-twenty-three in the morning? Out of nowhere, the
liquid courage running through his bloodstream told him to relax. Rebecca was
just spending the night because of a mix-up at the hotel and that was the truth.
A bit of a flirt maybe, she was harmless. He shut the fridge door and jumped
when he found her standing on the other side. “Damn girl, you move like a cat.”
    She meowed drunkenly and ran her
red-painted claws down his muscular chest.
    Paul popped the tops, handed her a
bottle, and squeezed past into the living room, second-guessing his every move.
This was beyond a bad idea. He felt like Sophia was watching him through the
picture of them resting on the mantelpiece. Her beautiful green eyes – thinned
by the bright Maui sun – now looked accusatory and threatening. He sat down on
the couch and Rebecca plopped down next to him, invading his space with the sour
smell of alcohol on her breath and a fresh dab of perfume on her neck. His eyes
meandered over the plump mounds peeking out from her tank top, stirring the
fire inside.
    She rested a soft hand on his knee for
balance and kicked off her heels before curling up next to him. “You have
tomorrow off?”
    “I do.” The warmth of her hand seeped
through his jeans and into his flesh like acid.
    “That’s so sad.” She shifted on the
couch, discreetly moving her hand to the inside of his thigh. “All alone for the weekend.”
    “I’ve got Netflix.”
    Eyes glittering with heat, she took a
slow drink and scanned the living room, investigating