The Left Series (Book 5): Left On The Run Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Christian Fletcher
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
guy both sagged into the snow. “But if I see either of your ugly mugs again and you try and come after us, I’m going to shoot you in your busted-ass faces, capisce?”
Ginger nodded and grunted an inaudible reply but the old guy didn’t respond. He grimaced and rolled up the pants on his injured leg.
Smith turned and headed to the right along the street. The rest of us stood still for a moment, glanced at each other with confused expressions then reluctantly followed along behind Smith, leaving the two injured guys sitting in the snow on the sidewalk.
“It’s not a very safe area we’re heading for,” Jimmy muttered as he walked beside me. “Last time I was over that way, an Asian guy threatened to cut open my guts with a mahoosive blade. I’m telling you, man, I nearly shite myself, so I did.”
“Okay, Jimmy,” I sighed. “I get the picture.”
I hurriedly caught up with Smith, although I struggled to keep pace with his long strides. Walking alongside him, I pulled the rucksack straps so the bag sat between my shoulders.
“Didn’t you hear what Jimmy said?” I asked him. “He said the area was crawling with street gangs. We don’t need another situation like the one we’ve just left behind.”
Smith turned his head and glared at me. “We’re not heading into Pollokshields, you dumbass. I just said that to throw those guys off our scent. I wasn’t going to stand there and let them know what we’re doing so they can follow our asses.” He pointed to a road junction ahead of us. “We’re going to loop around the block and make tracks to the motorway and then head for the river. We may get lucky and find a boat to take us the hell out of the city.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding my head. “Good plan.”
We followed the road and I kept glancing back over my shoulder to check the hostile guys weren’t in pursuit. The three injured men still sprawled in the spot where we’d left them. Smith quietly relayed his plan to the others when they moved into earshot.
“I’m glad about that,” Jimmy said. “Nasty bastards in Pollokshields. I wasn’t keen on going on through there.”
“No shit, Jimmy,” Smith sneered. “I knew that by the dumbass look on your face when I was asking you where to go.”
“I just got a bad vibe about the place is all,” Jimmy sighed.
We turned the corner, into a side street lined with large detached houses, surrounded by snow covered trees and hedges.
“Say we do find a boat, what then?” Batfish asked.
Smith shrugged. “I don’t know. Get the hell out of Glasgow, I suppose.”
“And go where?” Batfish persisted. “It seems to me that this whole trip to Scotland has been a total waste of time. It’s no better here than anyplace else and it’s so damn cold.”
“Yeah, I thought the whole point of coming to Glasgow City was to hole up someplace for the remainder of the winter?” Wingate added. “And now you’re talking about getting out of here already. When are we going to stop running, Smith?”
I gulped and glanced to the ground, feeling guilty. It was my idea and my enthusiastic persistence that had led us away from the United States and landed us in the United Kingdom by taking a flight on a military aircraft across the Atlantic with false promises of a better life. Now we were marooned here and right in the center of a bad situation. Things hadn’t gotten any better since we’d arrived in Scotland. In fact, I’d say our plight was a damn sight worse.
“We’ll try and figure that out if and when we get to the river,” Smith muttered. “Let’s just make certain we get away from that gang of goons in the first place. They’re going to be pissed with us for a while and we have to put a few miles distance between us.”
The blue haze of night rapidly faded and the sky remained gray and overcast. The air was still cold but at least the snow had ceased falling. We took another left turn at the side street corner, doubling back on
Ginger nodded and grunted an inaudible reply but the old guy didn’t respond. He grimaced and rolled up the pants on his injured leg.
Smith turned and headed to the right along the street. The rest of us stood still for a moment, glanced at each other with confused expressions then reluctantly followed along behind Smith, leaving the two injured guys sitting in the snow on the sidewalk.
“It’s not a very safe area we’re heading for,” Jimmy muttered as he walked beside me. “Last time I was over that way, an Asian guy threatened to cut open my guts with a mahoosive blade. I’m telling you, man, I nearly shite myself, so I did.”
“Okay, Jimmy,” I sighed. “I get the picture.”
I hurriedly caught up with Smith, although I struggled to keep pace with his long strides. Walking alongside him, I pulled the rucksack straps so the bag sat between my shoulders.
“Didn’t you hear what Jimmy said?” I asked him. “He said the area was crawling with street gangs. We don’t need another situation like the one we’ve just left behind.”
Smith turned his head and glared at me. “We’re not heading into Pollokshields, you dumbass. I just said that to throw those guys off our scent. I wasn’t going to stand there and let them know what we’re doing so they can follow our asses.” He pointed to a road junction ahead of us. “We’re going to loop around the block and make tracks to the motorway and then head for the river. We may get lucky and find a boat to take us the hell out of the city.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding my head. “Good plan.”
We followed the road and I kept glancing back over my shoulder to check the hostile guys weren’t in pursuit. The three injured men still sprawled in the spot where we’d left them. Smith quietly relayed his plan to the others when they moved into earshot.
“I’m glad about that,” Jimmy said. “Nasty bastards in Pollokshields. I wasn’t keen on going on through there.”
“No shit, Jimmy,” Smith sneered. “I knew that by the dumbass look on your face when I was asking you where to go.”
“I just got a bad vibe about the place is all,” Jimmy sighed.
We turned the corner, into a side street lined with large detached houses, surrounded by snow covered trees and hedges.
“Say we do find a boat, what then?” Batfish asked.
Smith shrugged. “I don’t know. Get the hell out of Glasgow, I suppose.”
“And go where?” Batfish persisted. “It seems to me that this whole trip to Scotland has been a total waste of time. It’s no better here than anyplace else and it’s so damn cold.”
“Yeah, I thought the whole point of coming to Glasgow City was to hole up someplace for the remainder of the winter?” Wingate added. “And now you’re talking about getting out of here already. When are we going to stop running, Smith?”
I gulped and glanced to the ground, feeling guilty. It was my idea and my enthusiastic persistence that had led us away from the United States and landed us in the United Kingdom by taking a flight on a military aircraft across the Atlantic with false promises of a better life. Now we were marooned here and right in the center of a bad situation. Things hadn’t gotten any better since we’d arrived in Scotland. In fact, I’d say our plight was a damn sight worse.
“We’ll try and figure that out if and when we get to the river,” Smith muttered. “Let’s just make certain we get away from that gang of goons in the first place. They’re going to be pissed with us for a while and we have to put a few miles distance between us.”
The blue haze of night rapidly faded and the sky remained gray and overcast. The air was still cold but at least the snow had ceased falling. We took another left turn at the side street corner, doubling back on