Mad Swine (Book 2): Dead Winter Read Online Free

across the field under the guise of a white flag. I came forward alone to meet them, not wanting any more of my brothers and sisters to shed blood on our grounds. Frank Senior, Phil, and a man I didn’t know huddled around me. We spoke for several minutes and I learned that Frank Junior, Senior’s son, had been killed during the counterattack. Senior requested that he be allowed to retrieve his son’s body so that he could give him a proper burial.
    We did not agree on a peace treaty that would unite our people, nor did we discuss the ethics or morals of our actions. We both simply agreed to a ceasefire to allow each side to claim their wounded and dead. But the gesture behind the ceasefire was not lost on both sides and the Providence-Randall Oaks War ended.
    There was a close call two weeks later when tensions mounted and we feared the fires of war would be fanned and ignited. A Providence patrol came too close to our walls and ran into one of our patrols out looking for food. Both patrols were surprised by each other’s appearance and a few shots were exchanged on both sides and each side ended up retreating.
    Although I increased interior security upon hearing the after action report, I ordered a strict no-fire policy among the men. No one was to fire a shot unless they had permission from me or Kat. I didn’t want nerves and a hair trigger to be responsible for starting the war again. Nothing became of that encounter and I suspected that Frank Senior gave the incident the benefit of the doubt, as did I, and let it go. We all breathed a sigh of relief and I called off the increased security after the second day.
    In November, the Providence roadblocks fell, completely overrun by the crazies. Providence had pulled all of its defenses from exterior roads and outer boundaries and concentrated them further within the community. They burned most of the houses around the vast circumference of their grounds in an effort to create some sort of barrier. At times we could hear the sounds of trucks and tractors and bull-dozers on the cool November wind. I had no idea what they were actually doing there, but I suspected they were digging trenches and blocking main thoroughfares to keep the damned creatures out.
    Without the road blocks, our communities were even further divided. By December, the war with Providence was a distant memory and the constant threat from our neighbors was no longer on our minds. With the crazies freely walking the roads, we all had our hands full with new enemies.
    Now, on this cold January morning, I shook my head at those bad memories. Kicking up plumes of fine snow with my boots and the vapor of each breath materializing like ghosts, I approached the main gate and watched as Lara Logan emerged from the driver’s side of Alan’s UPS truck. The rear end of the brown vehicle was butted up against our main gate, reinforcing the metal structure that had been smashed in during Providence’s last counter-attack, and closing the gaps that once granted easy access for prying arms and hands to snake hold of our residents.
    Although the outer shell of the UPS truck bore scorch marks from fire bombs and the roof was dented about seven inches from a large stone that had been delivered over the wall via slingshot, the truck made an excellent outpost for those on guard duty in this frigid weather. Without fuel they could not start the vehicle and turn on the heater, however, they’d hung quilts and blankets along the interior walls and piled sofa cushions on the bare metal floor, which did a wonderful job of blocking out much of the stinging wind. Besides, the seats were comfortable enough after a long patrol around the community.
    Lara carried over her shoulder a Mosin Nagant M44 carbine, one of the few long guns for which we had sufficient surplus ammunition after the war. The Mosin sported a wicked spiked bayonet and with all the wood and steel, the Russian- made carbine was hefty enough to be used as an