The Dead Walk The Earth (Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

had given her. They were a mixture of painkillers, antibiotics, and mild sedatives. When she had arrived at the base she was exhausted, hurt, and suffering from a fever that threatened to boil her from the inside out. The medical staff had held very little in the way of hope for her recovery. The wound in her leg had become infected, and septicaemia was ravaging its way through her bloodstream. The surgeon removed the bullet and cut away as much of the infection as he could, but he was sceptical about her chances of pulling through.
    Now, more than four weeks later, her strength of character and physical resilience were fighting their way to the surface for all to see. She had beaten the odds laid down against her, and already people were seeing something different in the young survivor from the outside.
    She stared at the small bottles in her hand and absentmindedly read the labels. She grunted and shrugged her shoulders and then slung the painkillers and sedatives across the room. They smashed against the wall, scattering red and white capsules over the floor. She would take no more of them. She could withstand the pain, and she was determined not to become reliant upon a cocktail of drugs in order for her to sleep and function properly. She would see out the course of antibiotics and then be done with any reliance upon pills.
    She climbed out from her bed and silently delighted in the feel of the cold linoleum floor against the soles of her feet. She rubbed at the unsightly scar on her calf where the bullet from her brother’s gun had punched through. The muscle had been torn, but the doctors at the base had done a good job of sewing it all back together. The wound was healing well, but the fresh tissue around the hole irritated her. It itched constantly, and she needed to fight the urge not to dig her nails into it.
    It was time for her to begin her daily routine of testing her capabilities. For the previous two weeks she had secretly been carrying out her own recovery and rehabilitation programme. Each day when there was no one to see, she went for walks through the corridors of the base. She would run and jump, and twist and turn while snarling at her leg to heal faster and threatening to have it amputated if it failed to do so.
    She placed her weight down on to her good leg and slowly allowed the damaged limb to settle. It was getting stronger by the day, and she smiled with satisfaction, knowing that her brother had failed completely in his attempts to kill her. She jumped up and down and then broke into an on the spot sprint, pumping her legs high to waist level and savouring the aching throb she felt in her calf.
    Pain is merely weakness leaving the body , she reminded herself.
    Satisfied that the wound had become nothing more than a discomfort, she slipped into her clothes and tied up her boots. Next, she grabbed her belt with the pistol that the soldiers at the base had given her. She fastened it around her waist, drew the weapon from its holster, and checked the chamber before sliding in a loaded magazine.
    Before leaving the room, she paused and looked at her reflection in the mirror above the small sink in the corner. She looked tired and worn, and a multitude of grey was beginning to fight its way out from beneath her thick dark locks. However, in spite of her appearance, she felt much stronger than she had done when Tommy and Al had found her and saved her from her dead pursuers. She owed those two men a lot. They could have left her there or even mistook her as one of the infected, but they took her with them, carrying her to safety and helping to nurse her back to health. In the weeks that followed her rescue, both Al and Tommy had visited her regularly while she recovered. A friendship had begun to form between them. They were extremely rough around the edges, and their mouths tended to be in gear long before their brains were, but despite their uncouth ways, they were the backbone of the base. She had