Life After The Undead (Book 2): Death to the Undead (22 page)

On one
hand,
it
scared
me
that he
was
frightened.
He
was
supposed to be
the
rock.
On the
other
hand,
it
was refreshing.
He
was
human.
He
didn’t have
to be
strong
all
the
time.
He
was
allowed to have
feelings.
I
knew no
matter
what
lay
ahead
of
us, we
were
going
to
face
it
together.
We
were
going to be
each
other’s
support. We
had
to be. We
couldn’t
count on
anyone else.

CHAPTER
7

Quinn
was
really
tired,
and he
slept
soundly.
I
heard
him snoring
in the
cell
next to
mine.
Even
after
a
cup
of
coffee,
I
was able
to sleep for
a
few
hours.
It
was
nice.
It
helped
refresh
me.
When
I
woke
up,
though,
my
shoulder
ached.
I
wasn’t
quite
ready
to
get
up, so
I
lay
in bed,
hoping
the
pain
would
go
away.
I
couldn’t
stop thinking
about
the
conversation
with
Duncan,
either.
I
realized
the
reason
they
had
survived
for
so long
was
because
they
stayed
out
of
other
people’s
affairs.
If
I
could
live
blissfully
in a mall
and
bake
cookies
all
day,
I
would do it
too.
But
the
outside
world
doesn’t
stay
outside
for
long.
It
finds a
way
in. You
can’t
ignore
it. No
matter
how
hard
you
try,
eventually
you
have
to
face
it. I
wondered
what
they
were
going
to do
when
they
couldn’t
ignore
it
anymore.
I
wondered if they
would
try
to find us,
volunteer
to
help.
I
doubted it.

The
pain
grew
so intense,
I
couldn’t
lay
down
anymore.
I
slowly
sat up
and
draped
my
feet
over
the
edge.
I
ran
my
hand
down
my
face.
I
expected
things
to
be
difficult,
especially
since
we
dealt with and
fought
against
people
who
were older
and
had
more
experience,
but
I
never
imagined
it would be
almost
impossible.

Looking
back, we
were
lucky
to
overtake
North
Platte.
The
guards
didn’t
have
to
give
up
as
easily
as
they
did.
They
could
have
fought
bitterly.
We
would
have
eventually
won. We
had
numbers
on our
side,
but
the
death
toll could
have
been a
lot
greater.
We
were
also
lucky
when Mrs. Johnson’s
bodyguard
came
up. They
could
have
wiped
us out
right
then
and
there. Instead,
they
waited.
It
gave
us
enough
time to
get
out and to
safety.
Well,
relative
safety.
At least the
workers
had
a
better
chance
against
zombies than they
did against
rocket
launchers
and
helicopters.

As
with
everything,
luck
eventually
runs
out.

Obviously,
our
supply
was getting
low.
But
that
didn’t
mean
we
could
give
up. As
much
as
I
wanted to,
as
much
as
I
wanted
to tell Quinn
I
was
done
and
wait
for
him
at
the
ranch,
I
knew
I
couldn’t. I
knew
my
conscience
would
get
the
better of
me. I
couldn’t
live
with
that
decision.
I
had
to
stick
it out,
see
it to the
end.
Even if
the
end
meant
death.
At
least
I
would have
tried. No one
could
fault
me
for
that.

I
stood from the
bed
and
shuffled
to the
door.
I
untwisted the
tie.
I
grunted
and
struggled
against
the
metal,
gritting
my
teeth.
It
wasn’t easy
doing
it one
handed,
but
I
didn’t
want
to
wake
Quinn.
He
needed to
sleep.
He
needed
to collect his
thoughts.
I
finally
got
it
undone
and
headed
to the
admissions
desk.
I
opened the
duffel
bag
and
pulled
out some
painkillers
and
a
bottle of
water.
I
tilted
my
head back to
swallow
and
stared
at
the
ceiling.
Taking a
deep
breath,
I
wondered
what
we
were
going
to do next. The
first priority
was
to take
out
Florida,
but how were
we
going
to do it? We
were
grossly
outnumbered
and
out
technologized.
The one thing
we
did have
was
determination,
and
that won many
wars.
I
hoped it
was
enough.

A
slapping
sound, like bare
feet
on
linoleum,
resounded
through
the
room. I
turned,
expecting
to
see
Quinn. No one
was
there. I
walked
to his
cell
and
peered
through
the bars. He
still lay
on the bed, his
back
toward
me. I
shrugged
and
headed
back
to the
desk.
The
sound
came
again,
followed
by
a
rustling.
Confusion
flowed
through
me
as
I
looked around
the
room.
Where
was
that
sound
coming
from?
The
door
was
still shut,
locked
up
tight.
I
knew
the
sound
wasn’t
coming
from
my
room.
It
had
to be coming
from
Quinn’s.
What else
could
it be? I
took
another
drink
of
my
water.
The
slapping
sounded
again,
a little
louder,
and
I
saw
movement
out of the
corner
of my
eye.
I
turned to
my
left.
I
looked on
the
floor,
at
the
corner
of
the
admission’s
desk.
The
water
flew
out of
my
mouth. I
wanted
to
scream,
but the sound
caught
in
my
throat.

A zombie
crawled
across
the
floor.
It
was
almost
completely
decomposed.
The
skin on
her
face
was
gray
and
flaking,
the skull poking
through in
several
areas.
Her
arms
were bones,
with the
exception
of
the hand,
which
was
still
covered
in
a
glove
of skin.
It
hissed
at
me
and
increased
its
effort
to pull itself
forward.
I
took a
step
to the
side
and
noticed
it
was
missing
a
leg.
I
reached
from
my
gun.
Crap! I
left
my
holster
in
my
room. I
turned
to get it
when
a
moan
echoed
through
the room. I
froze.
Glancing
over my
shoulder
and
the
desk,
I
noticed another
creature climbing
through
the
emergency
hatch.
He
was
in better
shape
than
the
other,
but his skin
was
yellowed
and
his
clothes
almost
completely
ripped
off.
I
could
see
his
torso,
a
hole
ripped
through
his chest.
If
his
heart
had
been
beating,
I
would
have
seen it.