Life After The Undead (Book 1) (45 page)

When
we
were
done,
we
went
back
to
our
cells
and
packed
our
things.
I
kept
my
gun
in my
hand,
despite
the
fact
the
guys
told
me
I
didn
’t
need
it.
Bill
pulled
the brass
handle
on
the
floor,
and
the
door
swung
open.
He
shined
a
flashlight
into
the
hole.
A
ladder
led
down
to
the
first
floor,
and
I
saw
the
light
from
outside.

“This
should
lead
us
to
the
alley,
then
to
the
street
where
we
parked
the
trucks,”
Bill
explained.
“
I’ll
head
down
and
make
sure
the
coast
is
clear.”
He
grabbed
a rifle
from
his
belongings
and
stepped
down
the
ladder.

A
few
minutes
passed
before
his
face
reappeared
at
the
bottom.

“Coa
st’
s
clear.”

The
rest
of
us
followed
him
down,
through
the
door,
and
into
the
trucks. Quinn
started
the
engine,
and
I
glanced
out
the
window.
A line
of
undead
headed
inside
the
building,
each
attempting
to
climb
the
stairs.
There
were
quite
a
few
of them,
probably
close
to
thirty.
How
did
they
know
we
were
in
the
building?
A
few
of
them
turned
when
they
heard
the
trucks,
but
they
were
too slow
to
catch
us.
The
convoy
pulled
out
of
town
onto
the
highway.
I
took
a
deep
breath and
holstered
my
gun
when
we
were
a
couple
miles
out
of
town.
I
sank
into
the
chair
and
placed
a
hand
on
my
forehead.
My
head
thumped,
almost
as
if
the
zombies
pounded
on
my
brain. I
was
glad
we
got
out
of
there
safely
and
alive,
and
I
thought
maybe
the
guys weren
’t
on
drugs
or
crazy.
Maybe
they
actually
knew
what
they
were
doing.

“You
don’t
encounter
zombies
very
often,
do
you?”
  Quinn
asked.

I
shook
my
head.
“We
see
our
fair
share.
We
like
to
take
care
of
them from
a
distance.”

“They
’r
e
not
as
bad
as
you
think.”

I shot
him
a
look.
“Uh,
yeah,
they
are.
They
destroyed
almost
the
entire
population
of
the
U.S. Maybe even the world.”

He
chuckled.
“Well,
they
are that
bad,
but
you
don’t
have
to
worry
about
them
quite
as
much
as
you
do.
Sure
there
are
a
lot
of
them,
but
they
don
’
t
move
very
fast,
and
they
’re
easy
to
take
down.
I
’v
e
seen
one
person
surrounded
by
fifty
zombies
come
out unscathed.
I
’v
e
seen
people
walk
right
through
a
field
of
them,
and
they
don
’t
even
know
they
’r
e
there.”

“I’v
e
seen
people
get
eaten
alive,”
I
spoke
quietly.

Quinn
frowned.
“Yeah,
I’v
e
seen
that,
too.
My
point is,
as
long
as
you
use
your
head
and
stay
calm,
you
’r
e
going
to
survive.”

“Have
you
ever
seen
anyone
turn?”

Quinn
was
quiet
for a
moment. “Yeah.”

“What’s
it
like?”

He
glanced
at
me.
“It’
s
nothing
you
ever
want
to
experience
for
yourself.”

I
opened
my
mouth
to
ask
another
question
when
something
bumped
against
the
drive
r’
s
side
of
the
truck.
I
sat
up
and
tried
to
look
out
Quinn’s
window.

“What
was
that?”

“Zombie.”
He
pointed
out
the
windshield.

I
turned
to
where
he
indicated,
and
my
mouth
fell
open.
A
horde
of
undead—close
to
two
hundred
strong—slowly
walked
down
the
highway.
Quinn
accelerated
and
plowed
through
the
group
at
seventy-five
miles
per
hour.
I
leaned
forward
to
get
a
better
view
of
the
destruction.
Bodies
clanged
against
the
grill,
and
arms
and
legs
were
ripped
from
their
torsos.
A
few
sprays
of
blood
and
other
fluids
flew
over the
hood
and
spattered the
windshield. He turned
on
the
wipers
and
smeared
the
goo
across
the
glass. The
smell of
decay
permeated
the
cab.

We
were
through
the
horde
in
a
few
moments.
The
stench
of
rotting
flesh
was
overpowering.
The
bile
rose
into
my
throat. Quinn
squirted
cleaner
onto
the
windshield
and
swiped
as
much
of
the
gore
off
as
he
could.

“We’ll
have
to
stop
and
get
this
cleaned
off,”
he
said.
“Just
be
careful
when
you
get
out.
Sometimes
those
buggers
grab
onto
the
side.”

I stared
at
him
in
disbelief.
“You
know,
there
is
a
way
to
avoid
that.”
  I
raised
my
eyebrows
as Quinn
looked
at
me.