Infected Freaks (Book 1): Family First by Borrego Jason

Author:Borrego, Jason [Borrego, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: zombies
Publisher: Broken Light Studios
Published: 2014-08-31T07:00:00+00:00

V

“Look,” Samantha said, pointing through the cords of branches.

Abraham followed her finger, fighting the annoying stab in his heart. He winced as if his eyes had deceived him. He followed the tip of the dirt road downward, past the staked fence, all the way to his worn farm house. He saw white paint smeared across the two-story barn.

INFECTED: STAY AWAY, it said in bold, bright letters.

You got to be shitting me, he mused.

“Is that your farm?” Sam asked, touching her lower lip.

Abraham looked at his warm home dotted in emptiness, feeling as if a part of him faded with the wind. The durable house was full of character despite its many imperfections. In a way the humble home had reminded Abraham of his own beat-up persona. Now it was tainted.

Without another word, he ran. Hysterical, he shouted his wife’s name, then his eldest son’s. As he stumbled down the narrow pathway, small runnels of rock and sand crumbled down with him. Mad in sorrow and thought, he leapt across a trifling crevice and continued in haste. His face was full of detestation and every carved etch was highlighted in the blood light of the early hour. He thought of his wife’s expression, innocent with age. It cannot end this way. There are sorrows too great and troubles that never end, but he never imagined his home falling to the decay of the infected. This was a world that had died in that drumming moment.

Coming to a stop at the front door, he studied a mandatory evacuation notice pinned to the panel frame. Unable to sit still, he exploded through the unlocked front door and studied the milky foam spread thickly over the living room walls. It reminded him of the remnants of a fire extinguisher. It was bubbled and an ivory color that gave off a sick, sweet smell.

“Beth,” he wailed, fumbling toward the stairs. She has to be alive. Bleeding through the curtains in his bedroom was the putrid color of red.

The storm raged on in his feeble mind, and Abraham couldn’t gage the reality of the situation. “Beth!” he shrieked, moving across to the guest room, where his eldest son was keeping some of his things. “Where did they go?” His arms seemed to seek out the walls as he staggered back down the swaying stairwell.

“Why!” he shouted, collapsing to his knees. He fell forward to his hands and lowered his drumming chest toward the stained floor. Still, he clawed his way back into the living room and scooped a hand across the end table, knocking off a bottle of medication. His quaking fingers had trouble gripping the bottle, and even more opening the childproof top. He hadn’t used the heart medication in two years, and when he broke the top, he swallowed the pill dry. Falling inch by inch to the floor, he rolled to his aching back.

“Beth,” he gasped.

“Here,” Sam said. She nudged a glass of water to his dry lips and gave it a tilt. “Drink up, sugar.

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