Dead Highways (Book 3): Discord Read Online Free

step—they had lost their lives.
    Lost their lives and had been reborn.
    Somehow, reborn.
    Whether they were dead, alive, or simply existed somewhere in between, it didn’t much matter now, and I wouldn’t bother trying to wrap my brain around it anymore. My disbelief was suspended, and would likely remain so for a very long time. The world had been flipped on its head—the rules of nature scratched out and rewritten. Like the popularity of Kim Kardashian, it didn’t make much sense. It just was.
    After crossing Leake Avenue, we stopped in a parking lot and took cover behind a blue pickup truck.
    Ted pulled on the driver side door handle. “Locked,” he whispered, and then moved around to the other side of the truck to check the passenger door. “Oh well, it was worth a shot. This truck would’ve worked good. Stay close. The golf course should be right up ahead.”
    After waiting on a few infected to slowly pass out of sight, we left the cover of the blue pickup and scooted north across the parking lot.
    It didn’t take long being hunched over for my back to start aching. Being the second youngest, I’m sure it was worse for many of the others in the group; Robinson and Bowser especially, given they were still recovering from some pretty serious injuries like— I don’t know —getting shot. However, if they were in any pain at all, they didn’t show it. I guess what I had always secretly suspected was true. Black people are tougher. That and the backpack I had on weighed almost as much as me. It was such a drag.
    We left the parking lot, traversed a large patch of ankle high grass, and then quickly crossed a narrow road that ran along the southern end of the golf course. We took shelter under a large tree and looked out at the open stretch of green where people had once practiced their best Tiger Woods impersonation. I mean golfing, of course, not infidelity.
    Robinson was next to me, sweating and breathing heavy. He could handle pain better than most, confirmed by the beating he took from Charlie the racist. But physical activity…not so much.
    “Are you having a heart attack?” I asked.
    He shook his head. “Just gotta...catch my breath...is all.”
    “Take a moment. We can rest here for a sec,” Ted said, glancing around. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
    Except Bowser, everyone else in the group knelt down and took a knee like a bunch of football players. I stuck my knife into the grass and slipped off my backpack. It had only been fifteen minutes or so since we left the dock, yet my shoulders were already sore, the skin red and chafed, as the straps from the backpack had been rubbing me raw. It felt good to give my muscles a quick break.
    “Good news is I’ll probably lose some weight with all this exercise,” Robinson said. “It’s been on my list of things to do for some time.”
    Bowser chuckled. “Yeah, we can tell.”
    “Fuck you. I used to be skinny, remember?”
    “I remember. That was a long time ago,” Bowser said. “Before you became a cop.”
    “No offense, but why is it that so many cops are fat anyway?” Ted asked. “Just seen quite a few over the years.”
    “I don’t know,” Robinson said. “Why do most people get fatter as they age? You just get into a routine, I guess. Or a rut. Plus the nature of the work fucks with your head. It really does. I’ve seen a lot of guys lose it on the job. Plenty of suicides too. With the shit we have to go through, if you don’t become depressed or a total psychopath, then there’s cause for concern.”
    “Which are you?” Aamod asked.
    “Psychopath, of course. Same as you,” Robinson said, smiling. “I’m only kidding. It’s just...not easy. The job wears on you. People don’t see that. I’ve seen things no one should have to see. Things that stick with you, keep you up at night. Things that…” Robinson swallowed hard and bowed his head. “Don’t go away.”
    A prolonged moment of silence filled the air as we