Tales of the Zombie Apocalypse (Issue #2 | September 2015) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Michael Anthony
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
matter of seconds.
There were more coming, of course, and now that the humans huddled at the front of the IGA, they weren’t distracted by the tooth and nail fight for their next breath. They could see that there were about a dozen more, but scattered all over the parking lot, so they’d be arriving in ones and twos.
Milo, ‘Becca and Jasper braced for it and waited. Sure, they could have rushed into the parking lot, but that would have meant having to fight more of them at a time, and closer together. Better to just wait it out and use the storefront defensively, so they did.
In less than five minutes, they had a respectable pile of rotting corpses in front of the store, and silence reclaimed the day.
“Okay.” Milo said wearily. ‘Becca, you get back to gathering the supplies. Jasper, you scout around and see if you can find out what happened to Frank. I’m going to head back to the office and see if there’s anything worth salvaging.
The back office. The door that had caused all the problems to begin with.
Who would have thought that six months after the world ended, there’d still be an active alarm system? They hadn’t run across functioning systems in more than two months, but this one either had batteries from hell in it, or was kept active by some kind of backup power source somewhere. All they knew was, when Milo tried to force the door, the alarm went nuts, and every zombie within two hundred yards had come a running, or…well, whatever passed for “running” in the Zombie Olympics. Anyway, the unexpected sound of the alarm had sent their pretty standard supply run sideways in a hurry. A lot more trouble than it was worth. Pickings looked to be pretty slim here.
“Grabbing Take-Out” was the term they’d coined for it. Hell, all of them missed the old days…the days before, when they could jump in the car and hit the closest Micky D’s or Jack-In-The-Box and grab some dinner. These days, “take out” meant going scrounging around in burnt-out and ruined places like this one, sifting through the debris for anything that might be even vaguely useful. Today, pickings were slim. They’d be lucky if they scored a couple dozen cans of assorted food and…
Milo hadn’t quite made his way back to the office door when he heard Jasper’s cry of agony. Fearing more zombies, he forgot about the back office and ran for the sound of that scream.
“Keep loading.” He told ‘Becca as he passed her. “I’ll sing out if we’re in trouble. When you’re done here, head to the back office.”
She nodded and continued gathering what few useful items she could find.
Fortunately, there were no additional zombies inbound.
Jasper was standing next to an old Chevy Impala, hands on the trunk for support, shaking visibly and crying. His body wracked with sobs. When he heard Milo approaching, he fought to get himself under control and nodded down. “Found him.” He choked out thickly.
Milo moved around the trunk to get a better look. Almost wished he hadn’t.
Frank was long gone. His throat had been ripped open, which was probably the wound that killed him, but he died with his hands at his gut, trying gamely, but failing to keep his intestines in place. It took him a moment to put the pieces together, but he thought he understood what had happened.
When the alarm went off, Frank had come here to have a vehicle between him and some of the approaching zombies. There were three dead here, piled in a chaotic jumble near the rear, driver’s side door.
Apparently concerned about an attack from behind him, Frank had opened the driver’s side door to serve as a shield for his back.
He probably did it reflexively and without even thinking to check to see that the car was empty.
It wasn’t.
The gut wound was probably first, when the zombie in the car lunged for his middle, ripping him open and spilling his intestines
There were more coming, of course, and now that the humans huddled at the front of the IGA, they weren’t distracted by the tooth and nail fight for their next breath. They could see that there were about a dozen more, but scattered all over the parking lot, so they’d be arriving in ones and twos.
Milo, ‘Becca and Jasper braced for it and waited. Sure, they could have rushed into the parking lot, but that would have meant having to fight more of them at a time, and closer together. Better to just wait it out and use the storefront defensively, so they did.
In less than five minutes, they had a respectable pile of rotting corpses in front of the store, and silence reclaimed the day.
“Okay.” Milo said wearily. ‘Becca, you get back to gathering the supplies. Jasper, you scout around and see if you can find out what happened to Frank. I’m going to head back to the office and see if there’s anything worth salvaging.
The back office. The door that had caused all the problems to begin with.
Who would have thought that six months after the world ended, there’d still be an active alarm system? They hadn’t run across functioning systems in more than two months, but this one either had batteries from hell in it, or was kept active by some kind of backup power source somewhere. All they knew was, when Milo tried to force the door, the alarm went nuts, and every zombie within two hundred yards had come a running, or…well, whatever passed for “running” in the Zombie Olympics. Anyway, the unexpected sound of the alarm had sent their pretty standard supply run sideways in a hurry. A lot more trouble than it was worth. Pickings looked to be pretty slim here.
“Grabbing Take-Out” was the term they’d coined for it. Hell, all of them missed the old days…the days before, when they could jump in the car and hit the closest Micky D’s or Jack-In-The-Box and grab some dinner. These days, “take out” meant going scrounging around in burnt-out and ruined places like this one, sifting through the debris for anything that might be even vaguely useful. Today, pickings were slim. They’d be lucky if they scored a couple dozen cans of assorted food and…
Milo hadn’t quite made his way back to the office door when he heard Jasper’s cry of agony. Fearing more zombies, he forgot about the back office and ran for the sound of that scream.
“Keep loading.” He told ‘Becca as he passed her. “I’ll sing out if we’re in trouble. When you’re done here, head to the back office.”
She nodded and continued gathering what few useful items she could find.
Fortunately, there were no additional zombies inbound.
Jasper was standing next to an old Chevy Impala, hands on the trunk for support, shaking visibly and crying. His body wracked with sobs. When he heard Milo approaching, he fought to get himself under control and nodded down. “Found him.” He choked out thickly.
Milo moved around the trunk to get a better look. Almost wished he hadn’t.
Frank was long gone. His throat had been ripped open, which was probably the wound that killed him, but he died with his hands at his gut, trying gamely, but failing to keep his intestines in place. It took him a moment to put the pieces together, but he thought he understood what had happened.
When the alarm went off, Frank had come here to have a vehicle between him and some of the approaching zombies. There were three dead here, piled in a chaotic jumble near the rear, driver’s side door.
Apparently concerned about an attack from behind him, Frank had opened the driver’s side door to serve as a shield for his back.
He probably did it reflexively and without even thinking to check to see that the car was empty.
It wasn’t.
The gut wound was probably first, when the zombie in the car lunged for his middle, ripping him open and spilling his intestines
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