AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mr. President,” said Scott Blair, “we’re starting to get reports of random attacks in other places. Harrisburg, Gettysburg…”
“How?” asked Sylvia Ruddy. “How is that possible? None of the infected could walk those distances, and the winds can’t have reached there yet.”
“Survivors,” said Blair. “People in cars or trucks. Either bitten or people who breathed in the ash. We know that some escaped the containment. We have to shut down the highways and the airports. Trains and buses, too. We need roadblocks. If we have to, we can blow the tunnels and bridges on the major highways.”
The president nodded, and phones were snatched up to make those calls.
“Sir,” said Ruddy, “I think we need to initiate the Emergency Broadcast Network.”
Another nod.
“I’ll draft a speech to the nation,” she said, and hurried out.
After she was gone, the president turned slowly to face his tableful of generals.
“Talk to me about nuclear alternatives,” he said.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVEN
BESSEMER COURT
WEST STATION SQUARE DRIVE
PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA
“You said you need to connect to the Net, right?” asked Homer.
Goat looked up from his laptop. He was cutting Homer’s diatribes into video bites that would be short enough to be watch in their entirety.
“Yes. I have several bits ready to go up on YouTube. Why?”
Homer tapped the windshield, and Goat peered through the whisking wipers to see the words “FREE WI-FI” glowing in blue neon on the front of a redbrick building.
“How long’s this gonna take?” asked the killer.
Goat hedged. “Video files are big,” he said slowly. “Takes a while for them to upload and—”
“You need both hands to do that shit?”
Goat immediately flinched back, pulling his hands back as far as he could get them from the murderous madman. But Homer laughed. A deep, creaking bray.
“I ain’t gonna eat your hands, you dumb shit,” he guffawed. “Jesus. You’re fucking hilarious sometimes.”
“Why—why did you ask?”
“’Cause I want to go inside for a minute and I want you here where I get back.”
“I don’t—”
Homer reached into the backseat and produced a coil of heavy, hairy twine. It was brown and the spiky hairs made it look like a vast, coiled centipede. “Took this out of that last place. Useful shit. Gimme your left hand. C’mon, give it here unless you want me to take it.”
With great reluctance, Goat slowly extended his trembling hand. Homer caught his wrist with fingers that were as cold and damp as worms but as strong as steel. He jerked Goat’s arm toward the steering wheel and then began looping the hairy twine around wrist, steering column, and between the spokes if the wheel. He tied sophisticated knots in the twine, looped more twine, tied additional knots, and then pulled on the ends until the bulb of each knot was compressed into a tiny, rock-hard nugget.
“That ought to do ’er,” he said, admiring his work. He gave Goat a friendly grin. “You only need one hand to jerk off with, right, boy?”
“I—”
“You set about putting my story out there for people to see and hear. You do that while I go see some folks about something I need.”
