Respect for the Dead (Surviving the Dead Book 1) by Shawn McLain

desperation he slammed the window with all his might.  The hand broke free from its owner and flopped uselessly to the floor.  The pounding on the windows and door increased.
    Surveying the hand, John smiled.  His relief was short lived as a window cracked.  He waited for a moment, but the window held.  He hurried down to the cellar.  Returning with several boards and a hammer he hastily barricaded the door and windows.  Grabbing boxes of shotgun shells out of the closet he loaded the gun to capacity.  Shoving the barrel to the broken pane he waited until one of them pressed their face against the glass. 
    The air was filled with exploding flesh and the smell of gunpowder. 

This is Not Going Well
     
    “Dammit!”  Wes grunted as he surveyed the flattened tires of his car.  Anger got better of him and he kicked the rubber.   
    “They are not going to unflatten no matter how many times you go out and stare at them.”  His mother sighed wearily from the door, “Come back in I need your help.”
    Wes followed his mother back inside and over to the couch to check on Reg.  He was pale and sweaty. 
    “Can you make some more tea please?” 
    Wes made his way to the kitchen and watched as his mother attempted to get Reg to drink something.  Returning to the living room Wes handed his mother the beverage. 
    “Reg, honey, try to drink this.  It will make you feel better.”
    “My head….hurts so bad….”  Reg moaned. 
    Wes ran to the bathroom to grab a bottle of aspirin but found they were all empty.  Returning he found his mother on the phone.  “I’m on hold It says the wait time is 2 hours!”  Say cried hanging up.  Tears were welling up in her eyes.  She swiped them away trying not to let Wes see.  He pretended not to notice while he knelt down next to Reg. 
    “I’m sorry, we are out of aspirin.  I will run out to get some.” Wes covered his nose as he pretending to scratch, Reg’s putrid breath turned his stomach.  Reg’s skin was like marble, grey and white hanging slacked on his face, his lips were white and chapped.  A shudder ran through Wes as he felt the cold hand of Stepfather take his hand.
    “I’m ok,” his words barley a whisper, “you shouldn’t try to go anywhere.”
    “Unbelievable!”  Wes turned to see his mother’s look of anxiety and anger.  “How can I get an ambulance if I can’t even get someone on the phone for several hours?”
    Wes remembered the news item from his radio.  He made his way next to his mother in the kitchen.  Turning his back to Reg.  “I heard this morning… they said there is no room in the emergency rooms so we can’t take him there.  The Hosptials are all full. ” He whispered.   
    “So what do we do?”  She whimpered.   
    Their whispered conversation was instantly cut short when Reg sat up.  They waited but he simply moaned and lay back down on the couch.   “My stomach…so hungry.” He groaned. 
    “I’ll make you some soup.”  Wes’ mother perked up.  “He hasn’t eaten since he got sick.”
    “Anything I can do to help?”  Wes asked.
    “No honey, I…no that is ok.”  She patted him on the arm and began to bustle around the kitchen.  Wes looked over at Reg.  His eyes were closed as he lay on the couch.  Trying to shake the fear building in him Wes wandered back upstairs to his room. 
    Sitting on the edge of his bed, Wes became lost in worries.  A vibration and a familiar tune caused him to just.  Frantically he fumbled in his pocket to extricate his phone with some difficulty.   
    “Wes have you seen the news?”  Beth demanded without preamble. 
    “No, well I heard the hospitals are all full.  Mom was told it would be hours before even 911 would answer.  What have you heard?  What is happening?  Have they made any progress in finding a cure?  Dad is really bad off.”  
    “No, in fact they don’t seem to know anything.  People are locking themselves in their houses or