Die Dead Enough Read Online Free Page B
Author: William Kenney
runnin'. Now give us a break and let us in."
"Fuck you."
"Listen," Klaus said in a near-whisper, holding out a hand in an offering of peace. "I... I just saw my wife killed by these things. Please, just let us join you."
The man raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked away, shaking his head.
"Look, I'm sorry about your wife, but... I've got to protect my family. I told you, find your own place."
"Is that really how you want to play this?" Conor asked, stepping toward the man. "We can help. Safety in numbers, ya know?"
A sudden burst of noise came from down the darkened street, zombies charging toward them, not yet visible but numerous by the sound of it.
"We don't have much time, man," Conor asked, looking over his shoulder nervously. He cracked his knuckles and turned to the man once more. "Like I said, we can help you."
"Don't need your help, goddamit," the man replied with a scowl. "Need you to get the hell away from us."
"You got a gun on you?" Conor asked.
"Won't need one if I can get us into the tunnels..."
Conor punched the man square in the nose, the sound echoing hard against the building fronts, blood spraying out both sides as the man's head whipped back. He dropped the manhole cover and fell to the side, but Conor got his hands under it and held it open for the others to continue their exodus.
"That's all I needed to hear," he said as he motioned for everyone to hurry down the hole.
CHAPTER TWO
The man sat against the wet wall of the sewer, bloody cloth against one side of his nose, his eye beginning to swell as he scowled at Conor. Just before the slobbering zombies had reached them, Conor had pulled him by the ankles into the manhole and dragged the heavy metal lid into place. Together they had fallen down the rusted rungs of the ladder that was loosely bolted to the curved concrete wall.
Now the group, some seventeen shaken people in all, huddled together against one wall of the sewer system, their eyes wide and full of absolute fear. They had taken the nearest tunnel, traveling in a crouch as the ceiling dropped and the numerous rats scattered before them. After nearly half an hour of shuffling through the darkness, a point of light had pulled them forward into a round chamber, a junction of three tunnels, each passage that led into it covered by a heavy iron grate.
With luck they were able to squeeze through a break in the grate that blocked their way and enter the chamber. The place was roughly thirty feet across and twice as tall, lit somewhat by moonlight that filtered in from above, ladders rising up the sides to other manholes and drainage openings. To save the batteries, the flashlight was turned off and they sat in shadow. It was beyond filthy, with every imaginable type of debris and human excrement gathered in piles and clusters around them, giving off a vomit-inducing stench that had them covering their faces with the backs of their hands. At the center of the room was a pool of coagulated liquid about ten feet across that bubbled occasionally from the trapped gas within it.
"Did you have to hit me so hard?" asked the man, his voice muffled from the cloth.
"You were being an asshole..." Conor answered in a low voice as he stared up at Gibby who had climbed to the top of one of the ladders and was watching the horror taking place on the streets above. "We were desperate. You were going to let us all die."
"I was just trying to protect my daughters," the man said. The two young girls sat next to him, huddled against either shoulder, staring at Conor warily. They were beautiful blonde girls, one fifteen, the other seventeen, their faces now smudged and scraped from the night's ordeal. "This was my weekend to have them. Was on my way to take them back to their mother's when this shit happened. Those things are zombies, aren't they?"
"Looks like it," Conor replied, glancing over at his brother who sat next to a silent and brooding Klaus.
"They always said it was
"Fuck you."
"Listen," Klaus said in a near-whisper, holding out a hand in an offering of peace. "I... I just saw my wife killed by these things. Please, just let us join you."
The man raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked away, shaking his head.
"Look, I'm sorry about your wife, but... I've got to protect my family. I told you, find your own place."
"Is that really how you want to play this?" Conor asked, stepping toward the man. "We can help. Safety in numbers, ya know?"
A sudden burst of noise came from down the darkened street, zombies charging toward them, not yet visible but numerous by the sound of it.
"We don't have much time, man," Conor asked, looking over his shoulder nervously. He cracked his knuckles and turned to the man once more. "Like I said, we can help you."
"Don't need your help, goddamit," the man replied with a scowl. "Need you to get the hell away from us."
"You got a gun on you?" Conor asked.
"Won't need one if I can get us into the tunnels..."
Conor punched the man square in the nose, the sound echoing hard against the building fronts, blood spraying out both sides as the man's head whipped back. He dropped the manhole cover and fell to the side, but Conor got his hands under it and held it open for the others to continue their exodus.
"That's all I needed to hear," he said as he motioned for everyone to hurry down the hole.
CHAPTER TWO
The man sat against the wet wall of the sewer, bloody cloth against one side of his nose, his eye beginning to swell as he scowled at Conor. Just before the slobbering zombies had reached them, Conor had pulled him by the ankles into the manhole and dragged the heavy metal lid into place. Together they had fallen down the rusted rungs of the ladder that was loosely bolted to the curved concrete wall.
Now the group, some seventeen shaken people in all, huddled together against one wall of the sewer system, their eyes wide and full of absolute fear. They had taken the nearest tunnel, traveling in a crouch as the ceiling dropped and the numerous rats scattered before them. After nearly half an hour of shuffling through the darkness, a point of light had pulled them forward into a round chamber, a junction of three tunnels, each passage that led into it covered by a heavy iron grate.
With luck they were able to squeeze through a break in the grate that blocked their way and enter the chamber. The place was roughly thirty feet across and twice as tall, lit somewhat by moonlight that filtered in from above, ladders rising up the sides to other manholes and drainage openings. To save the batteries, the flashlight was turned off and they sat in shadow. It was beyond filthy, with every imaginable type of debris and human excrement gathered in piles and clusters around them, giving off a vomit-inducing stench that had them covering their faces with the backs of their hands. At the center of the room was a pool of coagulated liquid about ten feet across that bubbled occasionally from the trapped gas within it.
"Did you have to hit me so hard?" asked the man, his voice muffled from the cloth.
"You were being an asshole..." Conor answered in a low voice as he stared up at Gibby who had climbed to the top of one of the ladders and was watching the horror taking place on the streets above. "We were desperate. You were going to let us all die."
"I was just trying to protect my daughters," the man said. The two young girls sat next to him, huddled against either shoulder, staring at Conor warily. They were beautiful blonde girls, one fifteen, the other seventeen, their faces now smudged and scraped from the night's ordeal. "This was my weekend to have them. Was on my way to take them back to their mother's when this shit happened. Those things are zombies, aren't they?"
"Looks like it," Conor replied, glancing over at his brother who sat next to a silent and brooding Klaus.
"They always said it was
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