Read Infected (Book 2): The Flight for Free Online

what he stood for grew along with the rage that had been building since the outbreak in the diner.  Connor clenched his fists and raised them to defend himself as he took a step forward toward the death that awaited one of them. 
    Curtis led with an arcing right. Connor ducked beneath and answered with a hard left jab to Curtis’s unprotected nose.  His head rolled back, pivoting at the neck and Connor followed with a right jab and a left hook, both of which rocked Curtis to his heels. 
    Curtis staggered back two steps before he regained his balance.  Connor pressed forward, swinging wildly with both fists, leaving his face unguarded.  Seeing the opening, Curtis sidestepped a punch and answered with a hard jab that opened the flood gates behind Connor’s nose.  Blood burst forth and his eyes were flooded with tears.  Connor coughed as the blood running down the back of his throat momentarily threatened to choke him.
    They stood toe to toe, swapping devastating blows at an unsustainable rate.  Connor’s lungs gasped for air as his muscles greedily extracted every molecule of oxygen available to them.  His muscles burned from fatigue and yet he continued to swing, matching Curtis blow for blow. 
    Curtis shot in close, once again wrapping his arm around the back of Connor’s head, holding it in place while he pummeled it with his free hand.  Connor brought his knee up solidly into Curtis’s groin, crushing everything between his knee and Curtis’s pelvis. Curtis howled in agony but refused to release his clench on Connor’s head.  Connor landed a solid blow into Curtis’s abdomen, loosening his grip enough for Connor to raise his head fully erect. Tucking his hand in close to his body, Connor’s elbow whipped through the air and smashed into Curtis’s temple, splitting the skin and loosing a river of blood which cascaded down the side of his face.  Curtis reeled backwards and would have fallen to the floor had the wall not been behind him.  Connor willed his body forward to continue the attack, but it momentarily refused to obey, having been racked with exhaustion. 
    They eyed each other, five feet apart, searching for a weakness to exploit.  Curtis’s hand slinked into his pocket and withdrew a knife.  With the press of a button, a stainless steel blade streaked up, locking in place with a snap. Holding the knife in close to his side, blade facing up, he stepped toward Connor. 
    Connor’s eyes focused on the razor edge as it darted at him without warning.  He slapped it aside, inches short of it burrowing its way into the tender flesh of his stomach.  Curtis’s torn lips parted in a bloody grin as the knife arced toward Connor’s ribs.  The blade cut deeply into his side before grating against the bone.  Connor reached for Curtis’s hand, but he had already withdrawn it.  If not for the sticky wetness running down his side, Connor would not have known he had been cut.  There was no sensation of pain. 
    Connor fumbled for his Taser again, but Curtis’s attack was unrelenting.  He didn’t leave a chance for Connor to drop his left hand from its defensive position long enough to draw the electronic weapon.  Curtis lunged again and Connor twisted to the side, this time catching Curtis’s wrist in his hand.  He struggled to maintain his hold while he battered Curtis’s head with his free fist. Pushing the knife to the side, Connor dropped his shoulder and plowed into Curtis, driving him into the wall behind.  The wall’s impact to his kidneys took Curtis’s breath away and left him momentarily stunned. Connor gripped the bottom of the knife handle that was extending below Curtis’s hand and twisted it up and between his fingers, freeing it from Curtis’s steely hold.
    With the knife now in his uncontested control, Connor struck out and the blade sank, unfettered, into Curtis’s unprotected chest.  Curtis gasped as Connor withdrew the blade and sank it in again and again,