Even Zombie Killers Get The Blues (Zombie Killer Blues) Read Online Free Page B

of the world is catching up with us. Knew it
would happen eventually. Hang tight while we dismount and talk for a spell.”

Dave, his brother Alan and their families lived on a fortified farm a mile
inland from the river. We had come across people like him before; tough farmers
who had busted their asses to fence off a couple of dozen acres, fortified
their houses and generally held their own. Farms that were a combination of
small fortress and house stood off in the fields, usually farther from. What was
unique about these guys was the horses. They didn’t even flinch when we came
near them, just flared their nostrils. The two of them were out on what he
called “Z patrol,” basically riding around a few miles from the farm, looking
for stray undead that might have stumbled their way.

“So what’s with the horses? How come they aren’t running screaming, actually
letting you ride them? How do they handle being around Zs?”

“They hate ‘em, but not like normal horses. I had a hobby horse farm, imported
these guys from Belgium. These two were bred for war. They were bred to carry a
man in full armor and they make a hell of a plow horse. You can ride them into
a crowd of Zs and they will stomp flat anything in their way.”

I eyed them enviously. To ride instead of walk!
    “Are they for sale?”
    “Not on your life, Sonny.” Alan leaned a little
closer to his shotgun and kept a wary eye on the rest of the team.
    “OK, but can they breed? Do you have foals?”
    “Ayup. Got four foals and a couple of yearlings on
the farm, another two on the way. Maybe we can do some horse trading, eh, Sonny?”
Dave seemed to find this uproariously funny and laughed out loud.
    Brit stood stroking their noses while I called in to
LTC Jackass. His immediate response was for us to “seize the horses” when I
explained to them they were Belgian war horses, definitely not afraid of
Zombies. I told him to piss off, then suggested maybe we could buy them. After
his usual temper tantrum bullshit, we finally got him to agree to look into the
Army contracting to buy horses from the farmers in
the future. I could imagine the Colonel pissing all over himself with
happiness. The man who brought mobility to the army again! It would get him
promoted, for sure. I bet he was already walking around in his stupid Stetson
hat and spurs like some demented 19 th century Cavalryman.  
    “Sounds like a real winner you got for a boss, there,”
commented Dave as he spit some tobacco juice out on the road and climbed back
in the saddle. He had swapped Jonesy some fresh jerky from his saddlebags for a
can of dip.
    “You have no idea. When time comes to actually trade
with him, make sure you have people watching your back. It’s all about him, and
what’s good for him.”
    He nodded his head as Alan snapped at his reins and
started plodding off. “It always is with people like that, isn’t it?”

 
    Chapter 7

I was hungry again, but I’m always hungry. Most people left alive in America
are always hungry. We have been for years.  Even when I get enough food, and I
usually do now, I’m still haunted by the ghost of hungry. That first two years,
when there was no food anywhere. Stores looted, farms trampled and
torched, refrigeration gone, no food distribution system, animals like deer and
cows hunted almost to extinction. I’ve eaten deer, possum, cat, dog, rat, mice,
woodchucks, pigeon, just about anything with meat on it except for humans. The Zs
were just an added burden. How many people got eaten by zombies because they had
to leave a safe hideout for food? Thousands. Millions, maybe. Hunger will drive
a man to do just about anything, including risking a zombie attack just to get
something to eat. Matter of fact, I think most of the ammo expended in the last
few years wasn’t aimed at Zs but at other people, fighting over food.

The animals were coming back, at least in our neck of the woods. Skunks were
filling a lot of empty