Sadie Walker Is Stranded Read Online Free PDF Page A

slender man’s shoulder like a sack of grain. There was a gap in the horde of people streaming down to the water and I had my chance. With Andrea pelting behind me, shouting at me to slow down and let her help, I broke into a sprint, catching up to the two kidnappers just as they reached the alley. Lungs burning, head pounding, I wound up over my left shoulder, still running as I took a golf swing with the tire iron. The bearded man carrying Shane glanced back at the same instant. Thank God for Andrea, who caught up in time to screech to a panting halt, throwing out her arms for Shane and scooping him up as I cracked the man’s skull. He went headfirst into the pavement.
    The bearded guy’s partner whirled, a heavyset woman with a pale, round face and caramel-colored hair.
    “Danny!” she screamed, watching her partner roll uselessly on the pavement, blood pooling beneath his head. “You bitch ! I’ll kill you for that.” She pulled a switchblade, the sharp edge flashed, serrated and mean.
    Andrea, more streetwise and ballsy than yours truly, grabbed the tire iron out of my hand and shifted Shane into my arms. I took a giant step backward, sheltering him from the squat little goblin woman and her partner. The bearded man flopped onto his side, as far as he could make it with his skull cracked. Laughing softly, Andrea pulled out a twelve-inch blade from the belt at her waistband. Apparently Carl was good for something. She held up both the tire iron and the knife, showing them to the woman as if this was The Price Is Right and these were her fabulous prizes.
    “Start running,” Andrea muttered. “I’ll catch up.”
    But there was no need. The woman took one last stuttering step and then turned on her heel, leaving her friend to wallow on the cold, wet pavement. He shouted after her, wild, inarticulate, and Andrea laughed again, shrugging as she tucked the knife back into her waistband. She threw one glance over her shoulder to make sure there were no undead bearing down on us yet. “I should take your balls for what you did,” she muttered, spitting at his feet, “but I’ve got a boat to catch and with that head injury you’re zombie chow.”
    Even so, she couldn’t resist aiming a swift kick at his groin. He hardly seemed to feel it, stunned from the hard blow to his head.
    Andrea led us back out onto the street, where the crowd had transformed into a headless mob. Shane swung onto my shoulder, piggyback, silent and trembling as we trotted down toward the waterfront. There would be time to explain everything to him later, but getting the hell out of dodge was priority one. We were getting closer, the slope down to the waterfront steeper by the second. A scream rang out like a gunshot from down the street. If this was the sequel to The Outbreak, then we were flaunting convention and getting to the harrowing climax in act one. It wasn’t possible. It was too fast. If the undead were already to the harbor then escape, by any means, could be impossible. The Queen Anne barrier was not close by, which meant the undead were multiplying at an alarming speed.
    A fire engine and its whining sirens roared by, flattening a stop sign. Another scream and Andrea didn’t need to tell me to hurry it along anymore. We turned north and then crossed Alaskan Way. The salt tang of the harbor and the squawking of seagulls announced the proximity of the water. As if that weren’t enough to send my heart rate skyrocketing, out of the corner of my eye I spotted something hunched and ragged lumbering toward us.
    “Andrea!”
    “I see it.”
    Another creature appeared behind the first, his face collecting in an oozing pile around his jaw bones. Andrea broke into a run, brandishing Carl’s knife but not moving to use it. I followed, the garbage bag over my shoulder knocking against my spine, Shane clutching my neck hard enough to choke.
    I saw now that we were late to the party. Hundreds, maybe thousands of mismatched people