The Infected (Book 1): Jim's First Day by Joseph Zuko Page B

bodies, thank God, but our windshield is gone and I know she has
really screwed up our engine. I have played paintball, emphasis on the word
played, and I have also been shot with a BB gun. My brother and I thought it
would be fun to shoot at each other. We were kids and it was a very stupid
idea. Luckily no one was hurt and we were caught by my father immediately.
    I
have never been shot at by a real gun. It is absolutely terrifying and today it
has happened twice. The fear I feel is a very difficult thing to describe. It
is an almost unimaginable thing that a little chunk of lead can put a stop to
this whole trip. It happens so fast that I don’t have much time to dwell on it.
She is not trying to shoot us. We are just down range from her real targets. Even
with all her wild shots she does manage to cut down a good-sized group of
infected. It opens up a little space for us to make our escape. I crank the
steering wheel and make a hard left. With the pedal to the metal we leave the
crazy woman to her almost certain demise.
    I
weave down a few blocks and put some distance between the gun-toting lady and
us. We have entered into a more industrial area. There are more businesses here
than homes. The traffic is much lighter and no one is on the streets. There is
an abandoned parking lot ahead of us. I pull into it and yank the emergency
brake. We skid to a stop.
    “Are
you guys okay?” I pivot in my seat to look back at Devon. He rubs his sore face
and gives me a thumbs up. He can’t even squeak out a “dude” for me. There is a
clear as day bullet hole in the seat next to him. Only inches away. Sara has a
tight grip on the dash. Her hair has fallen her face. She breathes in her nose
and out her mouth. “Are you okay?” I ask again. She raises her hand and holds
up her index finger. She still needs a minute. I examine the windshield and
there are five holes in it. Another three in the hood. I take a sip of water as
I look around the abandoned parking lot. The building is an old strip club. The
sign reads “Fuzzy Holes.” That’s a funny name for a club. On the sign below the
name is reads “We fired the ugly one. Come on in!” I like a strip club with a
sense of humor. The crack half a smile thinking about if there was an ugly
woman working there how long did she shake her nasty udders and dirty mud flaps
before she got the axe. Did the guys lay down singles and ask her for change. My
half smile quickly goes away and I crank around the rearview mirror. I take a
look behind us. The building directly behind us is a gym. The front is smashed
open. Busted glass litters the street. I don’t think that much of it until I
see the beasts that busted open the door. These two look like Schwartzenegger
wannabes. Two hundred and fifty pounds each of pure infected muscle rumbles
across the street. They are on a collision course with the backend of the
Bronco. Fantastic.

Chapter 9
     
    They
move really fast for being such big guys. It only takes the two muscle head
monsters a few seconds to sprint across the street and into the parking lot.
They smash into us like a couple of rhinos. They hit the Bronco so hard that we
slide a foot even with the emergency brake on. Their twenty four inch pythons blast
through the back window. Devon ducks down. He squeezes his body all the way
down to the floorboard. The monsters keep pushing us and the tires grind across
the asphalt. The only thing keeping them out of the car is their massive chests
and their inability to take turns. Both monsters fight to climb into the same
small opening. Meat heads. No way in hell I am stepping out of this car to face
them. They would snap me in half and eat me like a protein bar. One of them has
his hand on Devon’s backpack. He lifts and pulls at him like he weighs nothing.
    “Jim?!”
Devon holds onto the back of Sara’s seat. I drop the emergency brake and put
the old V8 into reverse and punch the gas. I back out of the parking lot,
across the street