Infected Freaks Volume One: Family First by Jason Borrego

see the bond between her and her brother was stitched deep. The bond between him and his grandson was blistered. Hunter would always blame Abraham for chasing off his dad. This was something Abraham was learning to deal with.
    “We continued through Salida and continued north on Highway 285.”
    “They were waiting for you, weren’t they?” questioned Abraham.
    “Your damn right those miserable bastards were waiting outside of town. They blocked the road with an old trash truck. Then they smashed into us from the side. Rictor fought them off.”
    “Rictor sounds like a tough dude,” Hunter spat from the shadows.
    The boy had been quiet. Abraham almost lost him.
    “Rictor was a monster.”
    “What do think they would have done to you if they caught you?” asked Hunter. He didn’t think about the tenderness of the situation.
    “Shut up, boy,” Abraham growled, rolling his eyes.
    “We walked after that for what felt like forever. There was nothing but silence everywhere we went. It was the scariest thing I had ever experienced. Each night, Red Dead seemed to fuel his nasty mood. He muttered curses aimed toward my brother under his breath. But Rictor kept us safe from the pockets of infected we came across.”
    Abraham looked at Hunter with raised eyebrows.
    Hunter was standing over the bloody carcass of a deer. “It seems a gang of infected tore it apart.” Hunter thrust his rifle over his shoulder and placed his hands on his hips. “Judging by the tracks, the small pack that killed it scurried toward the mill in a hurry.”
    Abraham was amazed at the rate of mold that had already painted the festering wounds of the dead animal. “The fire worked,” Abraham reminded them. “Sorry, go ahead and finish,” he said to Sam, staring at the red glow at the peak of the mountain. “And let’s get back on the trail.”
    Sam wanted to finish her story. No, she needed to tell the tale. He saw this in the way her eyes watered. Abraham followed the sound of an owl up toward the sky trying to make her comfortable.
    “Rictor’s urges grew with his frustration, first a quick fondle, and then more kisses. He treated me like a dog.” She had hated the touching and it showed on her expression. “Every night, he tried something new, and every time, I screamed and fought.” Sam swallowed hard then a violent shiver followed. “I couldn’t sleep for weeks. The fear had taken over.”
    Talking about it would free her from its internal torment. But Abraham wasn’t going to force the girl to do anything. “I’m sorry,” he offered.
    “Fuck him! After a few more days, we came to an abandoned farm house. At dusk, he forced himself on top of me and licked his nasty tongue up and down my neck. My wrists were held up above my head with one of his large hands. That fucker went back to the button on my shorts.” Sam looked down in shame and disgust.
    “You don’t have too,” Abraham said, turning his focus back toward the bastard sky. Stop staring.
    “He didn’t rape me,” she spat, unable to hold back her tears. “He would have, but…” She burst into a deep crying, and when Hunter went to comfort to her, she held out a hand to stop him. The poor teenage boy didn’t understand the sensitive nature of the subject. Abraham knew Hunter only wanted to help, but in certain cases, comfort meant reliving bad memories.
    Abraham would explain that to his grandson later. He realized he was marching through a clump of weeds covered in sharp pricks. He shrugged off the slight pain against his flesh. Damn blood flow must be getting worse .
    “The buzzing sound came hard and fast. That sicko was struggling to get my shorts down. I bit, fought, kicked, screamed, and gave everything I had. I was mad enough to kill him. Do you think that was wrong?”
    “Hell no, you should of fucking killed him!” Abraham stammered and Hunter agreed.
    Sam glanced about, seemingly unsure of her feelings. “‘Be brave, girl,’ he told me over