Dead South Rising (Book 2): Death Row by Sean Robert Lang Page A

last few days—the last month—had irreparably altered his psyche, his character. The whole of him .
    He started to move toward her, to where she stood in the hallway.
    Luz held a palm to him again, and took yet another step backward, her own back now against the hallway wall. “No. Stay right there. Gabriel needs to see this. See you for what you are.”
    David gave another exasperated sigh, his patience balanced precariously between slim and none.
    The pistol remained holstered, but he refused to set down his wife’s hand. “Bring him in. He’ll see that I’m right.”
    Dr. Gonzalez turned her gaze down the hall.
    David guessed that word had already made it to the Janitor. He heard voices, hurried footsteps. Taneesha’s frantic voice. Then the Janitor’s calming tone, encouraging her to relax. He felt a mix of relief and anxiety. Surely Gabe would see it his way. They’d talked, he and Gabe, the day David had arrived at the Alamo. And Gabe understood, realized what was happening in the world, saw it sooner than most. He had to side with David. He just had to.
    Taneesha slid beside Dr. Gonzalez, her hands pressed together and to her lips, prayer-pose, her brother beside her. Moments later, Gabriel   and Randy appeared, the old man’s thick mustache bristling, one squinty eye aimed askance at David.
    “Dave.”
    “Gabe.”
    The Janitor studied the scene a moment. “Looks like you’ve been a might busy.”
    “Only taking care of what needed taking care of.”
    Gabriel brought his hand to his chin. “That right?”
    David nodded.
    “Hmm. Why don’t you come on outta there and let’s—”
    “He turned.”
    Hesitation, then, “Turned?”
    David pointed to Scotty, his gaze not leaving Gabriel’s. “Scotty bit him. On the arm. Don’t know when, but when I got here, he—”
    Doctor Gonzalez said, “He killed him. That’s what he did when he   got here. Gabe, there’s no proof Roy turned or whatever this man claims to—”
    “Hang on. Everyone just calm down a minute.”
    “He’s a killer, Gabe. He—”
    “Luz, please.” The Janitor held up his hand, signaling quiet and cooperation. “What’s Scotty doing in there?” Gabriel trained his gaze back to the doctor. “Luz? Did you know about this?”
    She shook her head. David wasn’t quite convinced; her sincerity seemed lacking.
    “Anyone else know about this?” The Janitor asked, glancing around without actually looking at anyone. “No? Y’all sure?” He waited, expecting no one to answer, and got what he expected. “This ain’t what we agreed to, folks.” A father’s disappointment touched his tone.
    “Gabriel, Scotty isn’t the issue,” Dr. Gonzalez said, then raised an accusatory finger at David. “He is.”
    “I’m eyeing a few issues, Luz.”
    She bristled at his comment, folded her arms.
    “If y’all wouldn’t mind, I’d like a word with Dave, in private.”  
    Eyes darted, feet shifted. Slowly, reluctantly, the group started to scatter.  
    “That means you, too, Luz.”
    “Gabe, listen to me—”
    “Luz.”
    She huffed, slapping her thighs, and followed the others.
    Gabriel entered the room, closed the door behind him. He walked to the window, peered out, then crossed to the center of the room to scrutinize the entire scene. He slid his hands into the pockets of his jumpsuit, jingled his keyring, and stared for what seemed like minutes on end.
    Finally, “We didn’t find him.”
    Brows scrunched, David said, “Holliday?”
    Gabriel nodded. “Yeah. One of them three stoners, TJ, I think, downed a rattler. No one alive.”
    Another few awkward moments drifted by before the Janitor added, “No clues. No trackers in the group. I figure best we could do is set up more sentries. More eyes, more guns. If he gets close again…”
    “He’ll be back,” David said. “Guy’s got a vendetta.” He paused, reluctant to reveal more. “Supposedly I… killed his wife. He’s out for blood. My blood.”
    “Killed