Dying Days Read Online Free
Author: Armand Rosamilia
his pale lips. Darlene wondered how many zombies wandering around would take this crazy for one of their own.
She didn't want to kill him, and there were enough undead in the area so shooting him with her Desert Eagle wasn't a viable option.
He looked down and gently turned the gasoline can, spilling it slowly on the worn cement floor of the pharmacy.
"There's a store filled with supplies and you're going to torch it? I can't let you do that," she said and drew her weapon.
He ignored her and started splashing the products on the shelves. He still held the blowtorch, and she didn't know if shooting him was a wise decision.
"Is it in movies or real life that shit like this happens, when I shoot him and he falls and the blowtorch is still hot and the fucking building blows up and kills me?" she whispered. She didn't want to find out.
She took a step toward him when he suddenly looked up and held the blowtorch before him, still grinning. With his other hand and swung the gas can around in front of the flame.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? It's the end of the world and I have my period, dickhead."
Instead of responding he started splashing more fuel around him, coating everything in arm's length.
The fumes were starting to get to Darlene, even though this crazy bastard didn't seem fazed.
She decided to back slowly away from him with her half-filled shopping cart.
Two steps back and he was staring at her again and waving the blowtorch.
"Fuck you," she finally said and spun on her heels, trying to yank the shopping cart around as well.
The gasoline can spun overhead, aflame, and crashed against the shelf she'd previously been shopping at. The fire crawled up and down shelf like a hungry spider, catching cardboard boxes.
Darlene had no choice but to abandon the supplies and begin running, wondering if he would give chase.
At the front counter, just before reaching the door, she stopped and turned, hoping if he was behind her she'd surprise him.
Instead, she heard him tossing entire shelves to the ground.
"Sick fucker," she whispered.
The flames were already engulfing the section and smoke billowed to the roof, found nowhere to go, and began spreading.
Darlene grabbed a small hand basket from next to the counter and filled it with as many candy bars, small bags of chips and warm sodas as she could fit.
"Bingo," she cried when she saw the travel packs of tampons and medicine behind the counter.
She lunged across the counter and made room in her basket by discarding melting candy bars, and filled it, stuffing her pockets with Advil singles.
Before she could leave he was suddenly in the nearest aisle holding a flaming tube of gift wrap. The grin hadn't left his face as he waved it around.
"Fuck you," Darlene finally said and pulled the Desert Eagle. At this point she'd rather face a horde of undead than this psycho. "Dickhead."
She put a bullet just above his eyes, right where his eyebrows used to be. He hit the ground, the wrapping paper falling and igniting the gasoline on his feet and legs.
Even dead he was still grinning.
Chapter Six
Ladies Night In Buffalo
The Rusty Bar proclaimed, via the blood-streaked sign on the intact door, the best buffalo wings in the world. Darlene doubted she'd get a chance to try them. At this point a handful of ketchup packets would be heaven.
Moving across the northeast in a normal world was hard enough, but adding zombies, looters and blocked main roads and you had a heck of a time getting anywhere.
"And now I'm in fucking Buffalo and I'm cold," she whispered. She was grateful it wasn't winter and there wasn't three feet of snow on the ground. She knew the snow could pile up out here just like in Maine. She was only wearing jeans and a T-shirt she'd gotten weeks back after the attack at the mall. Already her boots were
She didn't want to kill him, and there were enough undead in the area so shooting him with her Desert Eagle wasn't a viable option.
He looked down and gently turned the gasoline can, spilling it slowly on the worn cement floor of the pharmacy.
"There's a store filled with supplies and you're going to torch it? I can't let you do that," she said and drew her weapon.
He ignored her and started splashing the products on the shelves. He still held the blowtorch, and she didn't know if shooting him was a wise decision.
"Is it in movies or real life that shit like this happens, when I shoot him and he falls and the blowtorch is still hot and the fucking building blows up and kills me?" she whispered. She didn't want to find out.
She took a step toward him when he suddenly looked up and held the blowtorch before him, still grinning. With his other hand and swung the gas can around in front of the flame.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? It's the end of the world and I have my period, dickhead."
Instead of responding he started splashing more fuel around him, coating everything in arm's length.
The fumes were starting to get to Darlene, even though this crazy bastard didn't seem fazed.
She decided to back slowly away from him with her half-filled shopping cart.
Two steps back and he was staring at her again and waving the blowtorch.
"Fuck you," she finally said and spun on her heels, trying to yank the shopping cart around as well.
The gasoline can spun overhead, aflame, and crashed against the shelf she'd previously been shopping at. The fire crawled up and down shelf like a hungry spider, catching cardboard boxes.
Darlene had no choice but to abandon the supplies and begin running, wondering if he would give chase.
At the front counter, just before reaching the door, she stopped and turned, hoping if he was behind her she'd surprise him.
Instead, she heard him tossing entire shelves to the ground.
"Sick fucker," she whispered.
The flames were already engulfing the section and smoke billowed to the roof, found nowhere to go, and began spreading.
Darlene grabbed a small hand basket from next to the counter and filled it with as many candy bars, small bags of chips and warm sodas as she could fit.
"Bingo," she cried when she saw the travel packs of tampons and medicine behind the counter.
She lunged across the counter and made room in her basket by discarding melting candy bars, and filled it, stuffing her pockets with Advil singles.
Before she could leave he was suddenly in the nearest aisle holding a flaming tube of gift wrap. The grin hadn't left his face as he waved it around.
"Fuck you," Darlene finally said and pulled the Desert Eagle. At this point she'd rather face a horde of undead than this psycho. "Dickhead."
She put a bullet just above his eyes, right where his eyebrows used to be. He hit the ground, the wrapping paper falling and igniting the gasoline on his feet and legs.
Even dead he was still grinning.
Chapter Six
Ladies Night In Buffalo
The Rusty Bar proclaimed, via the blood-streaked sign on the intact door, the best buffalo wings in the world. Darlene doubted she'd get a chance to try them. At this point a handful of ketchup packets would be heaven.
Moving across the northeast in a normal world was hard enough, but adding zombies, looters and blocked main roads and you had a heck of a time getting anywhere.
"And now I'm in fucking Buffalo and I'm cold," she whispered. She was grateful it wasn't winter and there wasn't three feet of snow on the ground. She knew the snow could pile up out here just like in Maine. She was only wearing jeans and a T-shirt she'd gotten weeks back after the attack at the mall. Already her boots were
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