I said.Robinson broke stride to glance back. A dozen or more infected left the interstate, drawn by the gunfire, and began running after us.“Don’t worry about them,” Robinson said, breathing heavily. “Worry about running.”But I was worried about them. Couldn’t help it. They were gaining on us with every step. If we didn’t pick up the pace, by the time we made it back to the cars they’d be right behind us, clawing at our backs. But I was more worried about Robinson. I was confident I could run faster, fast enough anyway, but I had my doubts about him. We had only made it as far as the police cars, and already his pace was slowing. We still had to twist our way through the maze of military vehicles. I looked behind me again. Even more infected. With each gunshot, new members joined the pack.“Where are you?” Ted yelled through the radio secured to Robinson’s hip. “We can’t hold them off much longer!”The little speaker on the walkie crackled with each gunshot, and I swore I heard shouting in the background.
What do You think about Dead Highways (Book 2): Passage?
