Deadman's Switch & Sunder the Hollow Ones Read Online Free Page B

barrier, we’ll drop them off and come back for the rest.”
    â€œThe best thing you could do for your friends now is let them die,” Stephen says.
    I thrust the pistol into his face and tell him to shut up.
    He flinches, then shrugs. He slowly stands up and offers me his hands. “Can’t hardly push with my hands tied up like this.”
    â€œYes, you can.”
    I tell Kelly to hobble Stephen’s feet. “Give him enough slack so he can walk, but not enough to run.”
    The smile on Stephen’s face never falters. It just sits there, unchanging. It’s really starting to irritate me. I just want to slap it off.
    No, I want to shoot it off.
    â€œYeah, you’re right,” he says. “It’s probably better that you leave me tied up.”
    â€œAnd why is that, asshole?” Kelly growls.
    â€œFor your own protection, of course.”
    â€œFuck you. We already beat your sorry ass once. You’re the one who needs protection from us.”
    â€œKelly, focus. We need to hurry.”
    Stephen’s grin grows even wider. “Yes, time is of the essence, isn’t it?”
    Â 

Chapter 5

    Â 
    Kelly manages to sling Jake over his shoulder. I don’t know if he’s just being careless or if it’s intentional, but he nearly drops Jake on his head while picking him up. Then he bangs his face into the side of the tram door getting out. I’m this close to yelling at him to be more careful, but I know it won’t help things, so I keep quiet.
    â€œHe stinks,” Kelly says, puffing. “He’s covered in puke.”
    Really? I want to say. I’ve been injected with a deadly virus and you’re worried about puke?
    A little regurgitated food is the least of our worries.
    I’m still barefoot, since the boys hadn’t been able to find my shoes back in the terminal. Kelly suggests I try on Tanya’s or Ashley’s shoes. I know I’d never fit into Ash’s new Nikes, so I check Tanya’s. They’re sensible walking shoes with worn soles and frayed laces. Working class shoes. A bit tight, but better than possibly stepping on something sharp and nasty out there in the dark.
    As I lace them up, I can’t help but wonder what happened to mine. Had I lost them during the bomb blast? Did somebody forget to pack them with my clothes at the hospital? I used to hate the things—drab gray and sun-bleached, no arch support, the stitching repaired a half dozen times—but now I wish I had them back.
    Stephen refuses to push Micah’s wheelchair with his hands tied. “The handles are too far apart,” he says. Not that he tries very hard.
    â€œPull, then,” Kelly growls at him and grabs a handful of his hair and spins him around. He gives it a twist. Stephen doesn’t argue after that. He grabs the back of the wheelchair with both hands and begins to drag it along as he walks backwards.
    I’m just as unsympathetic. I point the pistol at his face and tell him to shut the hell up and to keep moving if he knows what’s good for him. As far as I’m concerned, the guy’s got nothing to complain about. He’s lucky I haven’t put a bullet in his head already. To be honest, I’m not sure why I haven’t. I tell myself that it’s because I don’t want to waste a round—there’s only three left in the magazine and one chambered—but I get this nagging feeling that we’re going to need him.
    Stephen’s eyes glaze over and his face goes slack as he erases any outward emotion, but he pulls the chair and he doesn’t stop pulling. He trips a few times, once landing hard on his ass and yelping in surprise and pain. Kelly would’ve been on him in a flash if he wasn’t already burdened with Jake. I wave the gun and tell him to stop messing around. He gets up without complaining. He spins Micah around and begins to push, somehow managing, even with his