Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 5): Wrath Read Online Free Page B

this. Not another headache, not today. Her body ached from sleeping curled up in the fetal position on the torn van seat. Her mouth was dry from too little water, and her belly ached from too little food. If she started another day thinking about that horrible night back in June, she’d be insane by midday.
    Fat load of good a Doctorate in Theology did her as she sat up and put her tired and worn shoes on the metal floor of the old van. She shivered in the dawn chill. To her right, out of the corner of her eye she could see the dead boy standing in the dirt just outside the van, watching her. He did that a lot when they weren’t walking. Staring, observing, judging. Almost as if he was assessing her condition, or her behavior.  
    “Hey buddy,” she greeted the dead boy in her gravelly, dry voice. Two months of dry dusty roads, intense sun, and sparse water had ruined her voice. She’d had such a nice voice before… the dead started killing the living.
    The dead boy cocked his head sideways birdlike as she talked to him, which was about as conversational as he ever got.
    “Yeah, I hear ya. Just another day in Africa.” Michelle ran her fingers through her matted blonde hair. The golden sheen was long gone, replaced by a dull tarnish of dust and oil. She was a rough girl, and had gone many a long stretch without shampoo before, but this was starting to wear on her. She couldn’t stop moving to bathe if she was awake, the dead boy saw to that. Her choices were walk or sleep. Eating came on the move when she saw something edible, and going to the bathroom earned her a milky white stare. It took her a week to get used to him looking at her every time she went on the side of the road.  
    Michelle Lewis started towards the opening in the side of the van and the dead boy backed away, giving her room to exit. As soon as she finished stretching out, he passively turned, and began the day’s march down the African dirt road.
    “I wish he’d tell me where we’re going,” Michelle muttered under her breath as she started off after him.

    *****

    About an hour later Michelle figured out where she was. They were entering Douala, a giant port city in Cameroon. She recognized the city’s name from a college course. Douala had been the home of great sin in the recent past. It had been the center of the slave trade for some time, and grew into a modern metropolis as a result.
    Now, it was lying in ruin. As they entered the sprawling city the fact dawned on her that it had crushed itself under the weight of its own dead. Douala was a massive city by any measure. It rivaled any American or European city in population and sprawl. Stucco and slate colored apartment buildings and office towers rose dozens of stories out of the filth and heat. Michelle looked at the silent carcass of the African city and wept inside. She knew when judgment day happened this city had been found lacking.
    Bodies were strewn about everywhere. In the road, lying on guard rails, propped up against the side of buildings, sitting, and standing, the people had died everywhere she looked. Many were partially eaten, thousands were shot, many had their skulls smashed apart, and not too few were hacked apart by crude machete strikes. Burnt out hulks of cars and trucks were crashed everywhere her eyes wandered. Dead soldiers and police, their heads destroyed, clung desperately to empty weapons. The stench was overwhelming. They had passed through many small towns and even some small cities on their journey, but the smell here had no comparison. It was a city overflowing with rotting human flesh. It instantly reminded Michelle of the Rwandan genocide, and the recent tragedy in Darfur.  
    Even with her hope squashed by the all encompassing visions of death and destruction all around her, Michelle was faintly reassured that at least the people of Douala had realized that for whatever reason, destroying the brain of the undead rendered their release from the divine