Read The Living Dead Series (Book 2): World Without End for Free Online Page B

blindingly on the snow and she closed the blinds. 
    They ate breakfast, Brian demolishing the pancake stack in minutes. She had already inventoried their food. Since she bought in bulk when she could to save money, they had enough to last two weeks or better if they rationed a little. Would this all be over in two weeks? After what she had seen on television last night she doubted it. They had lots of rice and pasta and canned goods but very little bottled water or milk. If the water was shut off they would be in bad shape within days.
    Only two networks were still broadcasting what looked like a loop of yesterday’s news over and over. There was an interview with a Health Department official advising using caution when dealing with infected individuals. As far as Bea was concerned, people would be better advised to just run away, caution was not the proper word.
    She couldn’t stop reliving the scene with Ben. 9-1-1 was out of service for the time being and she had stopped trying to get through. What could they do anyway? A sound of clashing metal broke into her reverie and she looked out at the man at the gates. He had to be freezing. Even though the sun was out it hadn’t really warmed up any and the snow was not melting at all.
    Trying again to call Evan she could only leave another voicemail and she began to fear she would never get through. His apartment was in Dupont Circle and she didn’t know how hard hit that area had been.
    Opening the door to the linen closet she called to Brian to come help her with the footlocker. Together they dragged it into the front room. She looked high and low for the key before remembering it was on her key ring.
    The lock was rusty but the key turned smoothly and they found the guns, small but lethal looking, nestled amongst old school papers, stuffed animals, random computer cables and unlabeled CDs. Brian was surprised that they had them but, with the help of the internet, soon identified them.
    “Ok, these two are both .38 calibers. Do you think they’re loaded?” he asked Bea, peering inside the barrel of the gun.
    She blanched and told him to place them both on the floor, carefully . “Let’s just assume they’re all loaded until we’re sure they’re not.”
    All of the guns were unloaded. They cleaned and dry-fired them, trying to get comfortable with the feel of them. They found a few bullets for the two revolvers but nothing for the Glock. Brian seemed to enjoy the whole process; maybe it was a guy thing. For her part, every time she touched the cold steel she was reminded just how fragile flesh and bone are, how easily pierced and broken.
    The whole time they kept the television on. The reports grew more fantastic throughout the day with entire states being declared too dangerous to enter. Police set up barricades at the Tennessee and North Carolina borders, trying to keep Virginia in what they called a “clean zone.” Although how it could be considered “clean” with an outbreak in D.C., she didn’t know. The networks had completely lost contact with their affiliates in Florida, Georgia, and the Carolinas.
    Locals were blogging on the internet and posting warnings to stay away from the Metro. The entire underground was supposed to be full of the roaming flu victims and they were attacking with no provocation. Opinions varied as to why they were eating their victims. Bea went back and read this again. Okay, she knew they were attacking but eating? Here?
    The garden gates clanged again. Mr. No-Shirt now had a friend. A woman in a darkly- stained nightgown wandered confusedly off and on the sidewalk, falling over occasionally but always getting up and returning to the gates. Bea squinted to reduce the glare and saw that their eyes were completely white. A strong wind still blew, scattering and swirling the dry, powdery snow.
    Bea shivered. The insulation in the pool house was not great since it had never been intended for year-round use.  The granite estate