Life After The Undead (Book 2): Death to the Undead (58 page)

The
window
looked
onto
a
small
square
kitchen
table
with white
laminate
covering. Four
white
wooden
chairs
with slatted
backs
were
pushed
up on
each
side
of
the
table.
A
basket
of
plastic-looking
fruit sat in the
center.

Beyond
the dining
room
was
a
couch
and
TV,
which
wasn’t
on. The
living room
was
dark.
There
must
have
been
hallways
on
either
side of
the living
room
that
led
to
bedrooms,
but
I
couldn’t
see
them.
Nothing
moved.
If
Tanya
was
in
there,
she
wasn’t
in the
dining
room or
living
room.
I
risked
a
deeper
glance.
To the
left
of
the
dining
room
was
the kitchen,
as
dark
as
the living room.

I
moved
back
against
the
wall
and
took a
deep
breath.
Crouching
down,
I
positioned
myself
under
the window.

I
mentally
crossed
my
fingers,
hoping
the
window
was
unlocked.
I
pushed
up
against
the
frame.
The
window
slid
open.
Thank
you
!
I
pushed
it
open
further,
keeping
an
eye
on the
room beyond. Still,
nothing
moved.

When
I
had
a
space
big
enough
to
crawl
through,
I
delicately
placed
my
leg
inside.
The
floor
wasn’t
far,
and
I
set
my
foot down
gently.
Nothing.
I
ducked
my
body
under
and
paused,
listening.
The only
sound was
my
heart
beating
in
my
chest. I
worked
my
entire
body
through
the
window. I
quickly
skittered
into the
kitchen,
hiding
in the
cover of
darkness. I
kept
my
breathing
calm
and
under
control
as
I
surveyed
the
area.

I
found
what
I
looked for: a
knife
block. I
grabbed
a
steak
knife. Normally,
people
would
grab
a
butcher
knife
or
some
other
big
knife,
but
that’s
not
always
the
best
weapon. It’s
big
and
clunky,
which
means it
can
be
easily
knocked
out of
your
hand. With one
of my
arms
out of
commission,
I
needed
something
small
I
could
easily
keep
a
grip on.
A
small knife
against
the
neck
would inflict
just
as
much
damage as
a
large one,
especially
if
you
get
the
right
spot. With the
knife
firmly
in
my
hand,
the
back
of
the
blade comfortable
against
my
forearm,
I
headed
toward
the
living room.

That’s
another
thing
you
see people
doing
wrong.
You
don’t
want
the
blade directly
out in front of
you.
It’s
reflective,
which
means
it
will shine
light
into
your
target’s
eyes,
giving away your
position.
Plus, if they
see
the
blade first,
they
can knock it out of
your
hand.
If
you
hold it
against
your
arm,
you
have
a
lot more
chances
of
actually
sneaking
up on
your
opponent
and
keeping
hold
of
your
weapon.
Plus, if they
attacked
you,
you
could
inflict
damage
by
blocking. Pam
taught
me
that
in
North
Platte.
It
was
part of
my
training
to prepare
me for the
zombie-infested
West.
Of
course,
zombies wouldn’t
recognize
a
knife
or
realize
the
threat,
but it
was
still a
good
skill to
have.

I
paused
when
I
reached
the
edge
of the
living
room
and
glanced
to both sides. As
I
suspected,
hallways
led to
other
rooms.
But
which
one
was
Tanya’s? Suddenly,
a
thought
occurred
to
me.
What if
I
just
snuck
into the
wrong
house?
What if
there
was more
than one
apartment
above
the
coffee
shop? One
scream
from
an
elderly
lady
and
the jig
was up.

Stop that
! I
told
myself.
You’re
in the
right
spot. Focus
.

A
soft
shuffling
sounded
to
my
right.
My
head
jerked
in
that
direction. On
my
tiptoes,
I
headed down the
hall.
I
stopped
at
the
door
and
pressed
my
ear to
the
wood.
The
shuffling
sounded
again.
Closer,
it
sounded
like
feet
moving
under
sheets.
I
tucked the
knife
into
my
sling
and
reached
for
the
handle.
With painfully slow
movements,
I
turned the
handle
and
opened
the
door.
Like
the
other
parts of the
house,
the
room
was
dark. Someone
lay
on the
bed
on their
left side. I pulled
the
knife back
out
of
the
sling.
Biting
my
lower lip,
I
stepped
into the
room.
I
moved
toward
the
side of
the
bed
where
their
back
was.
I
held
my
breath.

I
reached
the
edge
of the
bed
and
peered
down. The
hair
was
blond,
the build looked like
Tanya.
I
flipped
the
knife around
so the
blade
was
out.

“Pssst,”
I
said
softly.

The
body
moved, rolling
onto her
back.
The
gray
light
from
the
window
above
the
bed
illuminated
her
face.
Her
eyes
were
open,
brow
furrowed
in
confusion.
It
was
Tanya.
She
screamed
when she
noticed
me
and
tried to
scramble away.
I
sat on the
bed,
on
her
legs. I
wasn’t
worried
about
anyone hearing.
I
figured
she
was alone
in
the
apartment,
and the
closest
neighbors
were
across the
street.