The Dead & Dying: A Zombie Novel Read Online Free

and substance must've bled into one another: and in that fraction of a second I thought I saw Josie standing across the room, her entire body glowing like a lantern in the fog, as beautiful and serene as in those final moments of her life. Maybe even more so.
    “Josie”, I croaked as I stretched my hand toward her, “Josie, baby, I l.... ”
    But then I saw him as well: the boy. I saw the flesh peeling away from his small round face, hints of bone and teeth where lips should have been. And his eyes, glaring at me, challenging me, hating me with every ounce of his being.
    “I... I'm sorry.” Tears spill from the corners of my eyes and I wrap my arms around my stomach as if I can somehow hold back the tide of blood flowing from my body. “I'm so, so sorry.”
    Funny thing is, if anyone was around to ask, I couldn't really say if I’m talkin’ to Josie... or the boy.

 
    CHAPTER FIVE: JOSIE
     
    When I first met Carl, I was traveling alone. Somehow, the idea had gotten into my head that I should try to make my way across the country, all the way to what used to be California. Maybe I was lured by thoughts of palm trees and beaches; maybe there was still some mythical appeal to this land by the ocean. Or maybe, it was more practical.
    Winters are bad enough when you have to strip clothes off the rotters you've killed just to have one extra layer between your skin and the bite of the wind. You think about lighting a fire, of rubbing your hands over the crackling flames and deeply inhaling an aroma that would bring back memories of camping and bubbling marshmallows impaled on a stick. But you know better. A campfire would draw them in from miles around; they would slowly tighten the circle until there was no hope of escape. So you shiver and try to ignore the stench wafting up from the sweatshirt you just pulled over your head: you cope and survive.
    But, if that wasn't bad enough, the winter also works against you in other ways. Once the temperature dips below freezing, freshies stave off deterioration much longer. Without decomp breaking down muscle tissue, they can stay fast and cagey almost indefinitely; and even the rotters' slow march toward mulch is put on hold.
    Some argue that you can hear them better as they crunch through the icy crust of the snow; and that, if it piles up deeply enough, it slows down the freshies enough to give you more of a fighting chance. But these idiots have apparently never experienced what an Illinois winter can do to the human body.
    You see, the cold can devour you as quickly as one of those damn zombies. It starts with the soft parts of your face, your nose and cheeks, the earlobes and lips....  At first, it almost feels as if your skin is tightening, as if it were trying to pull away from the danger and hide deep within the warm safety of the skull. Undaunted, the wind continues its attack with invisible teeth and soon you begin to feel needles of pain, like tiny pieces of flesh are being stripped away. The pain quickly grows into a burning sensation and you flirt with the idea of rubbing snow across your skin to find a modicum of comfort. After a while, however, it recedes and there is only numbness; at this point, you know these parts of your face have been totally devoured and no longer exist. The cycle then starts over then as the cold begins to feast on your toes and fingers, its hunger insatiable....
    It had been nearly two hours since I'd left my last shelter and, as these thoughts went through my head, I began to wonder if I'd made a mistake. With its single point of entrance and exit, the old silo hadn't been exactly the safest of strongholds; but it did provide a screen from the wind and a place where I could stretch out free of snow. But, as I laid there listening to the little pops and creaks of the metal, I began imaging a veritable army of corpses tightening around the outside of my resting place.
    I could picture them trudging through the snow, their numbers growing