The Farm - 05 Read Online Free PDF

anyone else in the house?”
    The girl shook her head again. “No.”
    Biggs stepped to one side, the M4’s stock tight against her right armpit. “Okay. Is this your brother? Take him downstairs, and wait for me. I’ll be right down.”
    The girl nodded, and she dragged her brother along behind her. The boy glanced back at Biggs, who stood between the pair and the body of their father. As soon as they had descended down the steps, she knelt over the body and went through its pockets. She found a key ring in the left hip pocket, and sure enough, one of them had GM stamped on it.
    Biggs rose and bolted down the stairs, her boots thumping on the somewhat threadbare carpeted runner. The girl and her terrified brother waited for her at the foot of the stairs, looking up at her with wide eyes as she descended toward them like some vengeful demon. Biggs looked past them, at the front door. It was barricaded behind furniture, and thick plywood had been nailed over it. Not getting out that way.
    “Did your father have an escape plan?” she asked the girl. “I saw the window over the truck wasn’t boarded up. Is that the only way out?”
    The girl nodded, and pointed toward a doorway. Biggs was on it right away, rifle shouldered, sweeping it from side to side as she stepped into the next room, which was the kitchen. The room was clear and secure, which she had expected. The kitchen was a mess—empty cans lined the counters, and the sink was full of dishes. More, which had been washed, stood in the dish rack next to the sink. The rack’s white polyurethane frame had been scrubbed away in places, revealing rusty metal beneath. Next to the battered, dormant refrigerator was another AR-type rifle, and beside that were three cans of Federal green tip ammunition. On a nearby wall-mounted coat rack, a SOE tactical vest had been hung, its pockets loaded with what appeared to be fully-stocked Magpul polymer magazines. Biggs picked it up immediately and slung it over one shoulder, then pointed to the rifle.
    “Take that,” she told the girl. She hurried over to the small window over the sink and peered outside. The sun-faded Suburban was right outside, and so were Powers and Klein. The light infantrymen had taken positions inside the pen, and hid behind the thin slats as well as they were able. Further out, a wave of stenches, hundreds of them, shambled toward the house. There was no way to get out of the house without being noticed by at least a dozen pus bags.
    Oh, nuts.
    With no other choice presenting itself, she pushed open the window and climbed onto the counter. One of her boots crushed plates in the sink, and two more slid off the counter, falling to the floor where they shattered into dozens of porcelain shards. Biggs ignored the racket and swung her feet out the window.
    “Pass your brother to me, then grab some of those ammo cans and follow us out!” she said to the girl, who had already picked up the rifle and slung it over one shoulder. And then, Biggs launched herself out of the window and to the ground below. She landed awkwardly, and she fell against the truck, but the ballistic inserts in her improved outer tactical vest prevented her from feeling much of the impact. A collective moan seemed to rise around the house, and Biggs knew her exit had hardly gone unnoticed by the advancing dead.
    “Hey, thanks for giving away our position, Captain,” Powers said, his tone somehow still surly even though he must have been frightened beyond belief by the wall of necrotic flesh advancing toward them.
    “Don’t sweat it, powers. We’re getting out of here. Just hold the stenches back long enough for us to get going—I’ve got two civilians coming with us,” Biggs said, turning back to the window.
    “I heard that!” Powers rose to his feet, standing up in plain view of the advancing zombies. He shouldered his M4 and began firing measured, precise kill shots. From the corner of her eye, Biggs saw several stenches drop