Life Among the Dead (Book 4): The End Read Online Free PDF

steam as he hurries to his car.
    The laundry bags are tossed into his trunk, the money and the sample are going up front with him. He realizes he has the man’s shaving kit and pistol tucked under his arm, these are both tossed onto the passenger’s seat. That leaves only the suitcase. The car’s back door keeps the cart from rolling away. Gil leans in from the other door behind his driver’s seat to pull the bag in. By the time he gets the enormous suitcase loaded he’s exhausted. The laundry bags will be easy to dispose of, he wonders how the hell he’s going to erase the body. I’ll dump it in the Charles River tomorrow , he figures. I have to get to the lab.
    With a chance to cool down the cold air now chills him. He shivers on his way back from returning the helpful cart to the vestibule. He wonders what he’ll say if the man’s men come asking questions. In this hypothetical he thinks he should play it dumb. We made our deal and I left , he’ll tell them. He thinks it might be a good idea to mention the sum he paid for his product and that the man said in passing that he needed to flee the country. He can’t concern himself too much over what has yet to happen if it ever does, right now he just wants a cigarette and to get to work.

9
     
    “He knows if you’ve been bad or good…”
    “Sing one more verse and I’ll break your fuckin’ jaw,” Santa warns a crooning drunk on the bus.
    The inebriate cuts his carol short and averts his attention with a dismissive whistle not wanting to test the not-so-jolly Saint Nick. Aside from the drunk’s mumblings Santa is allowed to peer out the window in peace. The world outside is far from peaceful, there’s flashing lights on almost every street. Police, paramedics, and fire trucks are out in force tonight, the city’s heroes are busy. It wasn’t long ago he’d be out there with them in the thick of things, it feels like a lifetime ago and at the same time feels like only yesterday.
    A part of him finds the strobe of the responding vehicles beautiful, as if they are decorating a world that’s lost its holiday spirit. In his years of volunteering, collecting for worthy causes, he has noticed a marked decline in Christmas cheer.
    The bus’s air brakes sigh as they come to an abrupt stop, too early for the next stop on the familiar route. Santa looks ahead to see what’s causing the delay, an ambulance bars their progress. The bus sits idle, awaiting its turn to proceed under the direction of a police officer while the cop’s partner gets a statement from a visibly shaken motorist.
    On his patent leather clad feet, Santa walks to the front. “I’ll get out here.”
    He sees his breath but can barely feel the cold through his padded red suit. The beard he began to grow right after retiring from the force protects his face, when he traded his blue uniform in for the red one.
    Sticking to the sidewalk until the city bus is allowed to roll past the scene he waits before heading to the wreck. He knows the officer taking the statement, a man that isn’t long from turning in his badge himself.
    “Santa,” the younger officer directing the congestion addresses him, “can you stay back please?”
    Santa ignores the request, heading to his friend. He hasn’t been on a scene in a while but it feels like he belongs. Only one survivor on his feet , he notes. Two bodies are slumped in the car as the medics tend to a woman on the street, from one passing look at the severity of her injuries the former cop guesses that she isn’t going to make it.
    “Santa!” the young officer leaves his post. “I said…!”
    “Relax, Murphy,” the seasoned lawman says to his partner. “Luke Stemmer, that you?”
    “Yeah. How’ve you been, Callahan?”
    “Have a seat on the curb over there,” Callahan tells the survivor, closing his notebook. “Can’t complain. You?”
    “Same. On my way home, thought I’d say hello.”
    “Wish I was home. It’s shaping up to be one