Slow Burn (Book 7): City of Stin by Bobby Adair Page A

silently down from the trees to skewer their talons through inattentive rats. Whites who happened to be looking at the road stopped what they were doing to piece together in their virus-diminished brains what the shiny black shadow was floating quietly past. Only a few made any effort to get close to the road for a better look, let alone a futile chase.
    We passed Camp Mabry. It was on our way out. We went over the highway—Loop 1—on the bridge, thankfully still clear. That led us through a maze of residential blocks cut through by Shoal Creek.
    “You know where you’re going?” Murphy asked.
    I had a pretty clear idea of the destination. I was certain the helicopters had landed down near the Capitol building. Get there, and all I’d have to do was look around for a few minutes and there they’d be, surrounded by a bunch of assholes with guns. I wasn’t sure what would come after that, but if the opportunity arose to punch one of them in the face—well, I wouldn’t complain about that. Anyway, that was pretty much my plan. I pointed out over the hood. “That way.”
    “Yeah, I know.” Murphy heaved an exaggerated sigh.
    “I’m just working my way through this neighborhood, looking for open streets.”
    Murphy nodded and started looking down the side streets. 
    “I need to make a left if I can,” I said. “The last four streets we’ve passed were blocked.”
    “You’re still thinking the Capitol building?” asked Murphy.
    “Yup.”
    We took our left turn, found a north-south road and made our way down to 15 th Street. That wide thoroughfare had remained surprisingly clear, at least up to the point where it clogged with abandoned cars and military vehicles near Brackenridge Hospital. Driving on the clear road so close to our destination left me wary, however. It ran right past the northern edge of the Capitol campus, which is why I made a right turn three blocks before I reached the corner of the Capitol property.
    “Hey?” Murphy said, pointing down 15 th Street as we turned off. “Do you know where you’re going?”
    “Don’t want to get shot at again in case those assholes are over there on the Capitol grounds.” I looked admiringly at the interior of the Mustang. “We just got this shiny new car.” I smiled. “I don’t want it to get messed up.”
    Murphy laughed.
    When we reached 12 th Street I spotted a parking garage, zipped silently in through the entrance, and parked the car on a nearly deserted second floor. I pointed east. “The Capitol is about four blocks that way.” I pointed south. “You know what’s down there?”
    “Is this a trick question?” Murphy asked.
    I shook my head. “About four blocks that way.”
    Murphy turned his palms up. “Should I?”
    “The Travis County Jail.”
    Murphy laughed. “Where it all started. For us anyway.”
    I looked south and recalled the jail, the riot, and our escape. “That was some fucked up shit.”
    “It’s all been some fucked up shit.” Murphy smiled again and got out of the car.
    I got out, jingling the keys in my hand. “Leave ‘em or take ‘em?”
    Murphy patted his jeans pocket where he had the extra key stashed. “We’ve had too much shit stolen already. We take the keys. If some other fucker runs through and needs to steal a ride, he better hope there are more cars upstairs ‘cause he’s not taking ours.”
    We headed out.

Chapter 25
    We walked up a hill that ran east along 12 th Street, staying in the darkest shadows behind cars and other debris left scattered on the roads by the storms and the post-virus chaos. When the hill crested two blocks west of the Capitol grounds, we saw that we’d come to the right place.
    The Texas State Capitol complex covered a square in the center of Austin four city blocks long on each side. The Capitol building sat in the middle of what were mostly enormous old oak trees shading acres of green grass so thick and soft that it made visitors want to throw off their shoes to feel