Read Last Man Standing (Book 1): Hunger for Free Online

Three bars.
     
    Jesus, a dozen missed calls, and almost as many texts. I had the damned thing set to silent.
     
    " Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck please be OK, Kate. Please God, let her be OK."
     
    I tap the screen and bring up the log. Most of the calls are from Kate, with a couple from unknown numbers. I tap onto the texts and my blood runs cold as I read them.
     
    Heading to work babe. Korean BBQ tonight?
     
    ****
     
    Cn u call me? Hearing weird stuff from customers.
     
    ****
     
    Babe, pick up.
     
    ****
     
    DUCKING PICK UP!
     
    ****
     
    Jesus, turn on the news! Have you seen what's happening on the bridge? I'm coming home. Stay there!
     
    ****
     
    PLEASE let me know you're safe. In the antique place. People trying to get in. Scared.
     
    ****
     
    Hefl us were flicking stuck
     
    ****
     
    Tom I need to turn off my phone they can. Hear me. Don't call just get out I love you so much.
     
    ****
     
    The phone slips from my fingers onto the bed, and I feel the crushing weight of guilt squeeze at my chest. I was sleeping soundly while Kate was going through all of this, terrified. The first text was sent three hours ago, at 8AM when she was just arriving at work. I scroll to the final message, and my heart leaps into my throat when I see it was sent twenty minutes ago, just minutes before I woke up.
     
    OK, what the fuck do you do now, Tom? Think! Take a breath and just fucking THINK!
     
    "OK," I say out loud, trying to calm myself with my own voice. "She's three blocks from here. Let's say five minutes on foot. Move slowly. Look around the corners. Keep to cover. OK, weapon. Weapon, weapon, weapon."
     
    As I tug on my clothes I scan the room for something suitable, thinking back to what Paul McQueen had said when he described the Bangkok attack. He said people tried to fight as if they were up against slow, lumbering movie monsters. They thought they could be taken out with a quick blow to the head, but the things moved too fast for the survivors to properly defend themselves.
     
    At least I have the benefit of a minute or two to catch my breath and think. Those poor bastards in Bangkok had only seconds to react, and they were limited to whatever they had to hand. Plastic water guns and buckets, mostly. I'm sure I can find something a little more suitable.
     
    My eyes settle on the aluminum baseball bat poking out from beneath my bed. I'd give my right arm for a gun and a full box of ammo, but beggars can't be choosy. I tug it out and swing it a few times, accustoming myself to the weight and balance.
     
    I know it's not an ideal weapon. It feels much too light to take down an adult, but it might just do the job until I can get my hands on a gun. I figure I'll do my best to stay away from anything moving, and if I'm forced into a confrontation I'll go in at a dead sprint and just swing away at anyone coming at me. I won't go for a head shot, but I'll just try to get them the fuck out of my way and tear ass out of there.
     
    I'm about to walk out of the room when an image flashes into my mind, of Brad Pitt in that zombie movie. He taped magazines to his arms as makeshift gauntlets, protecting them against bites. I don't have any tape in the house - I shake my head in disgust at my lack of even the most basic preparation - but I might be able to give myself similar protection. I drop to my knees and reach blindly under the bed, probing with my fingers until I find what I'm searching for.
     
    It's my old high school baseball mitt. Thick, stiff, biteproof leather. This thing has been sitting under the bed so long the leather has dried out and turned brittle, but there's no way in hell anyone could bite through it. On the off chance an attacker decides he's hungry I want to be able to hold him off with something other than a handful of tasty, chewable fingers.
     
    I tug the mitt down over my left hand, tap the bat against my leg and scan the room, looking for anything else that might be useful. Once again I curse