Life After The Undead (Book 1) (8 page)

“Dad,
I’m
not
sure
going
in
there
is
such
a
good
idea.”

He
turned
to
look
at
me. “Why?”

I
pointed
at
the
ambulances.
“What
if
they
’r
e
bringing
in infected
people?
If
they
get
loose
in
there,
all
these
people
are
sitting
ducks.”

Dad
sighed.
“What
do
you
want
us to
do?
We
can’t
camp
out
in
the
open—we
’r
e
the
sitting
ducks
then.
We
can
’t
go
back
to
the
house,
it’s
too
risky.”

“I
have
a
bad
feeling
about
going
in
there.”

Dad
stared
at
Mom.

“What
can
we
do?”
Mom
asked
and
shrugged.
“We’ll
stay
one
night,
formulate
a
new
plan,
then
head
out.”

Dad
let
the
clutch
out
and
was
about
to
head
down
the
hill
when
I
grabbed
his
shoulder
and
made
him
stop.
“What
about
the
cabins?”
I
suggested.
“We
could
stay
in
there.
We
have
enough
food
to
last a
couple
days.
We
can
figure
out
what
to
do
after
that.”

Dad
glanced
at
Mom
again,
then
focused
his
gaze
on
me.
“Are
you
really
that afraid
of
staying
at
the
base?
They
have
guns.
They
might
have
medicine
to
treat
whatever
this
is.
I
mean,
we
don
’t
know
if
we
’r
e
actually
dealing
with
zombies.”

I
shook
my
head.
“Even
if
it’s
not
zombies,
look
at
the
amount
of
people.
Mass
hysteria
is
bound
to
set in
and
something bad
will
happen.
People
are
scared
and
don
’t
know
wha
t’s
going
on.
They’ll
easily
fall
prey
to
ideas
and
suggestions
from
others
and
start
rioting.”
My
psychology
lesson
had
no
affect.
“What
if
they
take
our
four wheelers
away?”

“She
has
a
good
point,
Charlie,”
said
Mom.
“We
can’t
afford
to
lose
our
things.
When
we
planned
on
coming
here,
we
didn’t
expect
there
to
be
this
many
people.
We
can
stash
our
stuff
at
the
cabins,
then
come
back
and
find
out
wha
t’s
going
on.”

Dad
sighed
and
stared
down
at
the
base.
He
was
silent
for
a long
time.
“Fine.”

The
cabins
were
a
cluster
of
six
buildings
owned
by
the Forest
Service
where
my
family
and I
had
stayed
during
the
past
three
summers.
I
didn
’t
want
to
stay
in the
cabins
but
in
the
lookout
tower
nearby.
It
was
used
to
spot
forest
fires,
and
the
only
way
in
or out
was
to climb a
rope.
I
hoped
no
one
else
had
thought
about
it
as
a
hiding
place,
but
if
they
had, I
prayed
they
’d
be
nice
enough
to
share.

As
we
approached
the
cabins,
Dad
slowed
down
and
stayed
within
the
tree
line.
The
ground
was
extremely
uneven,
and
several
times
I
almost
dropped
the
gun
and
careened
off
the
back
of
the
four wheeler.
When
we
were
within
ten
yards,
Dad
cut his
engine
and
signaled
Mom
to
do
the
same.
He
told us
to
wait
while
he
checked
out
the
situation.

Dad
was
gone
for
five
minutes,
but
it
felt
like
five
hours.
Mom and
I
stood
together
next
to
the
four wheelers,
each
with
a
rifle.
Do
you
have
any
idea
how
many
sounds
there
are in
the
forest?
Twigs
snap
and
fall
off
trees
and
sound
just
like
someone,
or
something,
had stepped
on
them.
Plus,
with
the
echo,
you
’r
e
never
really
sure
which
direction
the
sound
came
from.
It’s
very
nerve-racking.
It’s
understandable
why
people
accidentally
get
shot in
the
woods.

Once
Dad
approached,
both of
us raised
our
weapons
in
his
direction.
When
we
realized
it
was
him,
we
lowered
the
guns
with
a
sigh
of
relief.

“It’s
clear,”
he
told
us
and
unloaded
the
four
wheeler.
“We
’l
l
stay
tonight
and
figure
out
what
we
’r
e
going
to do.”

The
three
of
us
loaded
our
supplies
into
the
basket,
then
Mom
and
I
climbed
the
rope
into
the
tower.
Dad
made
sure
we
were
safe
and
the
supplies
had
been
pulled
up
before
following
after
us.

We
stared
out
the
windows
onto
the
tops
of
the
trees
until
it
got
dark.
I
could
see
the
top
of
the
military
complex
on
the
horizon
and
shivered.
The
floodlights
from
the
roof
of
the
barracks
clicked
on,
and
I
hoped
everyone
was
safe.