Life After The Undead (Book 2): Death to the Undead (20 page)

I
inhaled deeply
through
my
nose,
savoring
the
sweetness.
My
mouth
watered
and
my
stomach
growled.
Because
of
my
exhaustion,
I
had to
fight
back
bursting
into
tears.
With
everything
that
happened
within the
past
several
weeks,
my
greatest
desire
was
to be
back home, to
be
with
my
parents,
to be
safe.
It
would never happen,
I
knew
that,
and it
made
me
sad.
Normally,
I
was
able to
push the
depression
deep
down. I
could
force
myself to
focus
on
whatever
task
was at
hand,
to push the memories
aside,
but it
was
getting
more
and
more
difficult. There
were
too many
things
we
had
to
accomplish,
too many
tasks that
bordered
on the
impossible,
and
they
seemed to
stack
up.
It
was
getting
to
the point
where
I
just wanted
to
give
up. Throw
my
good
hand
in the
air
and
let
someone
else
take
care
of
it. I
was too
young
to be
burdened
with saving
the
world.
And
I
was
tired. So
very
tired.

Several
people
were engaged
in
conversation
as
we
approached,
but they
stopped
and
stared
at
us. I
knew
their
looks
were
out of
curiosity,
but it didn’t
help
my
mood. I
tried
to keep
my
face
emotionless,
but
I
wasn’t
accomplishing
it.
My
face was
sour, my
anger
showing
through.
How
could
these
people
be
sitting
in here,
baking
cookies,
when
the
world
was
going
to hell?
Why
weren’t
they
doing
something?
Why
weren’t
they
taking
action?
They
had the
fire power
to make
a
difference,
and
they
were
content
hiding
in the
mall. I
balled
my
hand
into a
fist
and
clenched
my
jaw.
Don’t judge
these
people
until
you
know
their
story
,
I
told
myself.
I
took
a
couple
of
deep
breaths.

The
man
led
us to a
collection
of
couches
and
chairs
at
the
far
end
of
the dining
room.
The
area
was set up just
like
a
living
room
with a
coffee
table,
end
tables,
and
lamps. They
even
had
magazines
on the
coffee
table.

Quinn
and
I
took a
seat
on the
couch,
the
man
sat on a
recliner
across
from
us. He
sat on the
edge, his elbows
resting
on his knees.

“Now,
please
tell me
exactly
why
Florida
having
helicopters
should be
of
concern
to me?”

A
girl
approached
and
set
a tray
on the
table.
It
held
cookies
and
mugs
of
coffee.
Quinn
and
I
thanked
her,
and
she
walked
away.
I
noticed
she
wore
a
new pair of
jeans
and
tank top. We
had our
share
of new
clothes,
but
they
didn’t stay
that
way
for
long.
I
bit
my
tongue,
keeping
comments
about
being
sheltered
to myself. We
made
our
decisions,
just
like
they
did. I
couldn’t
hold it
against
them
for
not knowing
an
honest
day’s
labor.
I’m
sure
they
had
their hardships.
They
just
weren’t
obvious.
I
picked up a
cup
of
coffee
and
a
cookie.

“We’re
concerned
they
might
patrol
the
area,
see
you
and
the
other
survivors,
and mistake
you
for us. We
just
want
to make
sure
you’re
going
to be
safe.”

The
man
leaned
back
in
the
chair.
He
interlaced
his
fingers,
all
of
them
except for
his
index
fingers,
and
brought
them
to his lips. He
stared
at
us for
a
moment.

“I
still
don’t
understand
what
you
mean.”

Quinn
glanced
at
me.
I
shrugged one
shoulder and
focused
on
my
cookie.
I
bit into it.
It
was
soft, warm,
and
the
chocolate
was
half
melted.
It
dissolved
on
my
tongue.
I
closed
my
eyes,
savoring
the
sweetness.
If
I
died
at
that
moment,
I
would have
been
happy.
It
was
the
best
cookie
I
ever
tasted.

“They
might
come
after
you
because
of
what
happened
in North
Platte.”

“What
happened
in North Platte?”
the
girl
who
brought
us the
cookies
asked.

“Yes,
please
enlighten
us.”

I
shoved the
rest
of the cookie into
my
mouth, hoping
it would
choke back
the
anger
that
threatened
to
explode.
I
chewed
slowly;
the
exertion of the
movement
brought
my
emotions
under
control.
It
wasn’t
their
fault
they
didn’t know
what
happened
in
North
Platte. They
lived
a
sheltered
life. Communication
wasn’t
what it used to
be.
How
would
they
know what
was
going
on in the
rest of
the
world?
Why
would they
care?
Why
would they
bother
finding
out what
was
happening
to
other
survivors,
other
humans,
as
long
as
they
were
happy
and
safe? I
fought
back every
urge
in
my
body
to
stand
from
the
couch
and
leave.
I
wanted
to
tell
them
never
mind,
deal
with the
situation
any
way
they
wanted to.
We
had
enough
crap
to deal with,
we
didn’t
need
theirs. But
I
knew
what
Quinn would
say,
and,
deep
down,
I
knew
staying
was the
right
thing
to do.
Even
if
they
were
sheltered
jerks,
they
still didn’t
deserve
to be blown off
the
face
of the
Earth. They
deserved a
fighting
chance.