The Infected (Book 3): Nightfall by Joseph Zuko Page B

better prepared,
but he would be damned if he let himself and his crew get ambushed again.
    The Stranger stepped from
the darkness. He was a weasel of a man with a thin body and a gaunt face. He was
dressed like an accountant in black slacks and a white button up short-sleeved
dress shirt. His brown hair was slicked over tight to his scalp and one of the
lenses in his glasses had a crack that ran rim to rim. He was the kind of man
that would give you the creeps if he stood next to you in line at the Post
Office. The guy every kid was warned about and no one went near his house. He
held the shotgun tight to his shoulder with one hand and gripped a set of
handcuffs in the other. He paused for a moment when he stood out into the
light. He looked over the humans on their knees. The Stranger’s face held a
smug smile. He was so satisfied with himself. No one else stepped from the
shadows. It was just the one weasel. That really pissed Jim off.
    One goddamn Poindexter?
One guy had us trapped?
    Something rattled the half
closed gate at the entrance of the store. The Stranger stepped farther across
the shop and opened fire.
    BOOM! BOOM!
    Jim glanced over his shoulder
at the front of the store. Two infected were released from their misery and the
extra buckshot peppered the back of the PT Cruiser.
    “Keep your goddamn hands
on the back of your heads!” The Stranger cocked his shotgun again and aimed it
back at the gang on their knees. He kept the barrel pointed at them as he
pulled the gate shut. It slammed metal to metal, but the lock was shot off by
Frank so the Stranger used the handcuffs to secure the gate. The wristlocks
clicked into place around the metal frame and the gates door. Now they were
locked in.
    “What the fuck do you
want? Money? Food?” Sara’s tone dropped.
    The Stranger produced
another set of cuffs from his back pocket. He moved over to the group and stood
behind Frank. His lack of communication was driving Jim nuts.
    What does he want?
    If it’s not to kill us
then what?
    Jim’s mind ran wild over all
of the different horrible scenarios that might happen to them. The Stranger
noticed Jim staring up at him so he cracked the butt of the shotgun into the
top of Jim’s spine. The wood stock landed just above the backpack strapped onto
Jim’s torso. The impact sent Jim to his stomach, his hands came off his skull
just in time to keep his face from crashing into the unforgiving floor.
    “Leave him alone, you
animal!” Sara’s hands came off the back of her head to help Jim up. As she
reached for him the Stranger aimed the gun at her beautiful face.
    “Do not touch him,” the
Stranger said with no emotion.
    Pain radiated all through
Jim’s body. It felt like he pinched a nerve. Laying there on his belly he
clutched at his spine and grunted through the agony. His hands pressed down on
his spine trying to push the sting away, but nothing helped.
    “Get up!” the Stranger
yelled at Jim as he grabbed Frank’s wrist and slapped one side of the cuffs
onto it. Then he pulled Frank’s arm down off his skull and placed it at the
small of his back.
    Before Jim lifted himself
up off of the floor, his hands worked to nurse the bones of his vertebrae. As
his fingertips rubbed at his sore back the pinky on his right hand brushed
against the cold steel head of the hammer cradled in his backpack. The nose of
the tool peeked out from a small opening in the zipper.
    The Stranger had Frank’s
other hand down off his head and at the small of his back. He clicked the last
cuff around Frank’s thick wrist.
    Jim pretended to nurse at
his wound as he pushed himself up off the floor. He rocked back onto his knees
and pivoted himself on the floor to face the Stranger and hid what he was
doing. With both hands behind his head, he worked to get more of the hammer
free from the bag without the Stranger noticing.  
    “This is bullshit, man.
The world is going to hell and you’re fucking around with us!” Frank’s