American Infection (Book 2) by Justin Smith

parents. Holy fuck, it'd been one hell of a week.
    But at least I still had Sarah. And Rob was hanging on. In a couple hours, I'd know for sure whether my parents had survived. Even if they were dead, I prayed that the end had been peaceful and they hadn't become victims of the infected. Suicide, though I was morally opposed to it in my previous life, before the infection, would be preferable to the rage and violence of an attack by the infected.
    Every once in a while I would be forced to find my way around a town or village. I had a pretty good sense of direction, though, plus the signs indicating so many miles in some direction or another to surrounding cities assured me that we were headed the right way. Still, I found myself drifting further west than I had wanted, to avoid more populated areas. Not a big deal, it just meant we would have to double back east as we got closer to the Poconos.
    We worked our way around Downingtown, then managed to slip between Reading and Pottstown without any major issues. We came across a few infected here and there, but most were easily avoidable. I was forced to drive straight through a group of them in Douglassville, but the van withstood the impact; I think it was more painful for Rob than anything.
    We continued north, staying to the west of Allentown. I truly felt like I was a witness to the end of the world passing through some of these small towns. These folks likely had enough warning to evacuate west. A few homes were boarded up, but most stood vacant, their collective emptiness a sign to the infected that there was nothing for them here. I wondered if the infection had even touched these towns.
    Heading further west, I avoided Hazleton and Jim Thorpe. They're not incredibly large cities, but I didn't know an easy way around them. I decided to hook up with I‐80 and take that east into the Poconos. It was a major highway, but I figured this far into central PA, there was little likelihood that the road was blocked by abandoned vehicles. My prediction was confirmed as we rounded the on‐ramp onto 80 and were greeted by a stretch of open highway.
    Thirty minutes later we exited the freeway. Two more turns and I pulled into my parent's neighborhood. The homes here varied; some were ranches, some split level, even a few cottages. All were fairly private, surrounded by trees that nearly reached the clouds, and enough of them to block the view of any curious neighbors.
    I pulled into my parent's driveway and brought the van to a stop. I turned around to look at Sarah.
    "You wait here with Rob," I said. "Let me go check it out first."
    Sarah nodded and blew me a quick kiss.
    I grabbed the AR‐15 off the passenger seat and hopped out of the van. I listened for a moment, trying to catch any abnormal sounds that might be floating through the trees. Hearing nothing but birds and crickets, I walked toward the house. There was no real front door, just an upper and lower deck. The lower deck led into a sitting room with a pool table. Most often, we treated the French doors off the upper deck as the main entrance.
    I ascended the stairs, sweeping my eyes throughout the surrounding forest. As I reached the top of the steps, I noticed the curtains were drawn back. I could see clearly into the family room and kitchen. No movement. I tried the door but it was locked.
    On the opposite end of the deck sat a ceramic owl. I walked over, lifted the owl and retrieved the key from underneath. Returning to the door, I let myself in, slowly opening the door just wide enough to slip through.
    I knew the instant I walked in that the house was empty. It just had that empty feeling that you get when you walk into a home you know well and no one's there. It felt empty. It smelled empty. It sounded empty.
    Still, I began searching the home. Couldn't be too certain. I first checked the bedrooms, walking past the kitchen. Empty. I returned to the family room and took the steps to the third floor loft.