The King of Clayfield - 01 Read Online Free PDF

faces pressing against the glass.
    I looked into the mirror again, and the little boy was on the trunk. I didn’t hesitate. I took my foot off the gas, and put it in reverse, then foot back on the gas.   The vehicle   jumped backward, but I was crazy with fear and lost control. The car hooked around to the left and   T-boned another car parked on the street. The boy flew off the back and bounced off the other car. The crowd was coming. I crawled across and out the passenger side of the car, grabbing my stick on the way out.
    I just ran. I had no plan at that point; I just needed to get away. They chased me, but the disease had messed with their coordination enough that they weren’t fast enough to catch me.
    I ran two blocks   north   to Ann Street before I looked to see how close they were. I had   outdistanced them by a full block. This made me feel better about my chances. My lungs were burning from the cold air. There was no way I’d make it to Blaine’s on foot by nightfall. I could either go home or head back to the museum. I allowed myself a slower pace and jogged west down Ann Street, trying to get a clear thought in my head.
    My house was on 17th Street and that   was long way on foot. I jogged two more blocks until I reached North 7th. There was no traffic on the roads then, just wrecked or abandoned cars.
    I stopped at the corner of Ann and North 7th to catch my breath. My pursuers weren’t even in view anymore. I wondered if they weren’t smart enough to follow me that distance, or if once I was out-of-sight they’d forgotten about me, or   if   they’d found other prey.
    I’d left my keys in the car, along with my food and water. I needed to get home. I went up to a couple of empty cars, hoping I could find one with keys, just to get me home, but no luck.
    I looked south down North 7th, and I could see the Old Hill Hotel   in the distance, and next to it, Kentucky Regional Bank. That would put me next to the museum. The Old Hill had been a hotel in the early 20th century, but now it was used as office space.
    I could see the   stoplights for the next two intersections were black, but I did see one working a block past the   courthouse. The power wasn’t out everywhere.
    Looking toward Kentucky Regional Bank, I remembered what the woman said about closing her account and how she didn’t get her money. I also remembered   that she didn’t have her purse with her. I presumed it must still be in the bank. Even though I never asked her, I was hoping that the car she was searching earlier belonged to her. I decided to venture into the bank and retrieve her purse, and hopefully, her keys.
    I jogged south to North Street and stopped. I made sure I wasn’t followed, and that there wasn’t anything waiting for me ahead. The crowd that had chased me after I left the museum was gone, but the woman I’d hit with my car was still there. I felt sick about that. Part of me wanted to go check on her, but I knew I couldn’t help her.
    I proceeded to the bank. As I got closer, I got a better view of Broadway. There was a small group on the courthouse lawn, but they didn’t notice me. Once I got to the bank building, I hugged the wall until I got to the tinted glass   door.
    It was dark inside, darker than I expected it to be…and quiet. I stood still for a moment, allowing my eyes to adjust. There were glass-walled offices to my left. To the right was the area for tellers. Papers littered the floor. The place appeared to be vacant. I looked in each teller stall for the purse, but it wasn’t there. In one stall, I did find   two stacks   of twenties bound with paper wrappers. A little voice told me that I would need the money and that no one would ever know, but I left it.
    I was just about to leave, when I spied   a purse. It was in one of the offices, on the floor next to a chair. Could be it.
    I stepped inside and picked it up, then came out next to the front door. I opened the purse to examine