After the Bite Read Online Free Page B

amount of time had pas sed when Larry turned on the radio for some tunes. The radio was silent as it had been for several days, so he turned it off and continued driving down the road. He finished his drink, set it down, then put on the brakes. He came to a complete stop in the middle of the road, but there was no one behind him to worry about. No honking horns, no obscene gestures. It was convenient but somewhat eerie. Larry withdrew a cigarette from one of the boxes that had spilled out onto the passenger’s seat and lit it with his polished metal lighter. He took a drag and moved his foot from the brake to the gas pedal.
    As he was driving, Larry ’s mind remained full. He wondered about his friend, Evan. Was he safe? Was he even alive? Had he stayed in Chicago when this mess began? Larry had questions, but no answers. It was getting dark, and he was growing sleepy.
    Pretty soon he decided to pull over, off the side of the road, under a large tree. Larry turned off the car, pocketed his keys, and went around to the back. The seat cover came off the back seat, and Larry la y down in the floorboard with the cover over him. It was not the most comfortable of beds, but if a zombie happened around his car, he would not be noticed.
    With the morning came a light drizzle. Small drops pitter-pattered on the roof of the car, and it dripped down the windows. Larry looked at his watch, and gave a despaired sigh. It was nearly nine a.m. He sat up, stepped through the rain, and plopped into the driver’s seat.
    For a few minutes, he stared out the window. It was just him and his car, and an abandoned car a little way behind him, and another in front. There were no zombies in the immediate area. He turned the car on and took off down the road. Along the way, there was a burning house, and the nearby zombies were flocking to it. Most of them walked right into the flames.
    A few hours later, Larry parked the car in the driveway of an abandoned house. He wondered how long he could make it here as he carried his bags and the gas can to the front door. He’d slipped the empty Sobe bottle in one of the three sacks, and it clinked lightly with each step.
    The door was not locked; it wasn’t even blocked off or barricaded. The previous owners must’ve fled, and Larry wondered how they were doing now. Had they escaped the city?
    Larry spent the day in this house. He barricaded the doors and windows on the ground floor, then ate a sandwich and chips on the bed in the master bedroom. He ate in solitude, thinking about how he was going to die alone. Maybe not here, but somewhere, he was going to be all alone when he took his final breath. Tears began to fall from his eyes.
    Some noises startled Larry. It was the sound of hands beating against the door. Larry stood up, chewing the last remnants of his dinner, a little excited. He rushed out of the room and down the stairs to see the visitors. They were hungry, and wanted in. Larry realized he had barricaded the doors and windows, but left almost all of the lights on. Perhaps he would die here after all. Then he recalled the zombies rushing into the burning house from before.
    While he went for the gas can and the Sobe bottle, Larry heard a window shatter. He hurried back up the stairs and tore up a towel he found in the bathroom. The pungent gas splashed into the bottle, and some on the carpet. Larry stuffed the smaller towel piece into the neck of the bottle, then went into the bedroom across the hall.
    It was a child ’s bedroom. Toys cluttered the floor. The bed was unmade, and the light was off. Larry opened the window. There was a gathering of at least a half dozen zombies at the front of the house. Larry took out his lighter. It gleamed in the setting sun as the flame leapt from within. He felt the heat from it as he held it to the shredded cloth. The flame began to creep along the makeshift wick. Larry held the bottle carefully, his hand shaking from the mixed emotions: Fear, worry,