Better Lucky than Good (Records of the Resistance) Read Online Free

was getting the picture that she had been away from the group and their safe haven for too long. She was exhausted. The way her heels had been scraping against the gravel as they were walking had not gone unnoticed by Clay. He had actually been impressed by her fortitude. Her feet were cut and bruised from their shoeless travel. Melanie had informed him that she had lost a shoe trying to make her initial escape and found it harder to run with a single piece of footwear, than with none at all. Clay had given her a pair of flip-flops that he kept in his dry bag. But the fear, confusion, and longing for her group, had begun to wear on Melanie. She was ready to go home.

    "You just finished telling me that the worst thing that could happen was being followed back to the farm house... I'm not going to be responsible for that." Clay's voice was insistent.  

    Clay removed his pack and instructed Melanie to turn around. He could tell that she wasn't even remotely impressed, but followed his instructions in face of the fact. He lifted the heavy bag onto her shoulders and spun her back around to face him.  

    "I'm going to give you the shotgun. If things get a little to close for comfort, I want you to undo these buckles, drop the pack, and run as fast as you can to the farm house with this gun." Clay instructed as he snapped together the buckles of the dry bag across Melanie's chest and waist.  

    Clay handed Melanie the shotgun. She received it awkwardly, like someone who had never dreamt of bearing a firearm. Then drawing his tomahawk from the leather loop on the pack, he turned to face the corn.  

    "Melanie, face the field on the other side of the road. Tell me if anything comes up behind us. Whatever it is that's in front of us is coming closer." Clay said forebodingly.  

    The movement in the corn was certainly coming closer. Clutching his tomahawk in his hand and still possessing his brass knuckles in his opposing fist, Clay prepared himself for the worst that the night could unleash at him.

    Whatever was creating the noise, had seemingly stopped abruptly once it had reached the edge of the field directly in front of Clay. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins while his chest heaved deeply; his heart feeling like it would erupt through his shirt at any moment. Melanie however, was another story. She was doing all she could not to lose control of her bladder.  

    Clay thought he could hear his own heart beating, as it pumped hard in his chest in anticipation of the coming moments. The night was silent. The kind of night that seemed to allow any sound made, to travel forever. Not even the crickets were singing. The sky was free of clouds, leaving the stars and bright moon to illuminate the road around them. Clay stood his ground, peering into the black of the corn stalks.

    The crop, which was less then ten feet in front of Clay exploded with movement. Between himself and the corn was a ditch and from it sprang a white tailed deer, shooting between himself and Melanie like it had been riding a rocket. It's hoofed feet thumping hard against the ground while kicking up gravel as it crossed the road.  

    Clay's shoulders slumped as he lowered his tomahawk to his side. Turning his head to look back at Melanie, he half expected to see only his pack lying there on the road where he had last seen her standing. To his surprise, there she stood with the shotgun lowered to her waist. Together, they both let out a sigh of relief. Clay smiled to her and was about to speak when the corn thrashed again. This time, instead of a deer, it released two infected men and a woman, all of whom were clambering through the corn. One of the men tripped while making his exit and fell clumsily into the ditch. The other, traversing the depression behind the woman, reached the edge of the road slightly on her heels.  

    "Watch the other field!" Clay said, speaking only loud enough to talk over the noise generated by the oncoming