Read Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory Online
Authors: Daniel Cotton
Tags: #reanimated corpses, #Thriller, #dark humor, #postapocalyptic, #suspense, #epic, #Horror, #survival, #apocalypse, #zombie, #ghouls, #undead
Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory
A PERMUTED PRESS book
Published at Smashwords
ISBN (Trade Paperback): 978-1-61868-294-9
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-295-6
Life
Among
the
Dead
3
copyright © 2014
by Daniel Cotton
All Rights Reserved.
Cover art by Dean Samed, Conzpiracy Digital
This
book
is
a
work
of
fiction
.
People
,
places
,
events
,
and
situations
are
the
product
of
the
author’s
imagination
.
Any
resemblance
to
actual
persons
,
living
or
dead
,
or
historical
events
,
is
purely
coincidental
.
No
part
of
this
book
may
be
reproduced
,
stored
in
a
retrieval
system
,
or
transmitted
by
any
means
without
the
written
permission
of
the
author
and
publisher
.
Table of Contents
Section VIII. Sudden Death
Section IX. Something Far Worse
Section X. Brass
Section XI. Point of No Return
1
“So, what are we in for?”
“I told you: house full of zombies, strictly
Romero rules, stupid and slow. Why? Are you nervous?”
“A bit.” Lloyd leans forward between the
front seats of the van. “No one’s ever made it out of there
alive.”
“Then we’ll be the first,” the driver says.
“As long as we all keep a level head and work as a team, at least
one of us will survive.”
“I still don’t get why we’re doing this,” the
newest member says from the passenger seat. “Halloween was last
month. Can’t we just go to a club?”
“No, Vida, we can’t,” Brandon says in
frustration while trying to keep his tone in check. “I fought like
hell to get these passes. We’re damn lucky the guy that runs the
Zombie House decided to extend its season. He’s making a killing
with this whole zombie craze. I know I was getting sick of the same
old haunted house.” Brandon tries to enjoy the anticipation, the
thrill of knowing soon they will be there, but this is a difficult
task since the person behind him is bumping his seat, turning his
eagerness into aggravation. “Vicky, stop hitting my seat!”
“Sorry,” the drummer for the Dogs of War
apologizes for her irritating percussion, which isn’t a product of
nerves but stems from her addiction to diet pills. “I wish we could
have invited…”
“Don’t you dare!” Brandon glares at her in
the rearview, like a parent warning an obstinate child. “Don’t you
dare say his name in my van! We’ve talked about this. Dustin Barnes
is a douchebag and the band is better off without him. I can’t wait
for Ray to get back from vacation so I can have him officially
banned from the store.”
Vicky’s legs are bouncing now, picking up the
rhythm her hands aren’t allowed to make. “Can’t we wait until after
the Fallen gig to tell him?”
“No!”
“But it’ll break his little heart.”
“I don’t give two shits about his little
heart,” Brandon says. “He’s poison for the band! The only reason
he’s been around this long is because we needed a guitarist and a
car. Now we have Vida and my new van. You guys weren’t even
supposed to tell him about Fallen! It’s not my fault he dropped
outta school when he heard about the gig, the dumbass.”
Vida is replacing this guy she’s never met
and she feels really bad about it. Her band mates have described
him several times, and told her that she must have passed him in
the halls at school before he dropped out. She just doesn’t recall
seeing anyone that matches the description: sculpted, black
‘pretty-boy’ hair, trying-too-hard knock-off rocker clothing.
The four fall into silence as they cross the
Washington Bridge heading north. Vicky ceases her constant drumming
to lay her palm against the window for the entire journey over the
expansion. A superstitious habit she and the other girls adopted
when riding the bus. It’s supposed to bring good luck for the rest
of the day. Girls from Vida’s hometown had a similar ritual for
making wishes, and she notices this is the only time Vicky is
perfectly still until they reach the end of the bridge.
The young group has just turned left onto the
road that will take them to the Zombie House when blue and red
lights bathe the interior of the van.
“This is the third cop car tonight!” Brandon
indicates his intent to pull over as he slows. “Vicky, are you
holding?”
“Not anymore,” she assures him. “I
swear.”
Brandon moves to kill the engine and crank
down his window, but the police cruiser just blows past them. The
false alarm has the band breathing a sigh of relief. They follow
the diminishing strobe until it pulls off the road.
Brandon inches past the driveway the squad
car has pulled into, to the dismay of those with him. It has joined
two others at a large white house that serves as the county’s
funeral home. It’s an odd scene. All the lights in the place are on
from the basement to the attic.
“God, Brandon, what’re you doing?” Vicky
says. “This place gives me the creeps!”
“Really, man.” Lloyd shivers and rubs his
arms. “Speed up.”
“Hold on.” Brandon is in awe of the sight.
Officers get out of their cars and proceed to the entrance.
“What’s so creepy about this place?” Vida
asks, thinking there has to be more to their reaction than just the
nature of the business conducted within. The three story Victorian
looks rather nice and inviting.
“This is
his
place,” Vicky whispers,
as if she’s afraid to incur the wrath of whoever
he
is.
“Who?” Vida is relatively new to the area, so
she is unaware.
“Waterloo’s own living urban legend,” Brandon
brings Vida up to speed, along with the van. “Mortie the mortician.
Rumor has it he has sex with his clients.”