The Undead World (Book 2): The Apocalypse Survivors Read Online Free
Author: Peter Meredith
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
all about me. Then you risk everything to come get me. You never do that! The monsters won't hurt me, remember?
"Oh hush," Jillybean said. She didn't like to be told she was wrong, and certainly not by some silly stuffed animal. "Maybe they would've smelled me on you and eaten you thinking you are tasty, which I'm sure you're not...speaking of smell, what is that?"
It was food.
The man had cooked something and the smell sent her stomach rumbling like a motor. She hurried to the back door of the place and was happy to find it unlocked. "Oh my gosh!" she said, rushing in, overcome by the odor of cooked food. There, next to the fireplace, was a frying pan; within it were the remains of the man's breakfast. It had been meat of some sort, fried in oil with a touch of teriyaki sauce.
The little girl spat out the bitter acorns that she had been storing in her cheeks and ate the scraps greedily. The meat was strangely tangy, yet to her starved taste buds it was heaven. The scraps filled Jillybean's tummy nicely, and though it was still only mid-morning, she pulled a large comfortable chair close to the glowing embers in the fireplace and took a nap, curled up like cat.
Chapter 2
Ram
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Victor Ramirez stopped the Humvee in the middle of the street and clicked off the engine so that the silence of the new world clung to him, wrapping itself around the lone man. Though in truth he wasn't completely alone. A corpse, wearing the black rags that had at one time denoted it as a master chef, turned slowly on its spindly grey legs and gazed at the Humvee from sixty yards, its dull mind trying to remember if the vehicle had been there minutes before.
Sitting completely still, holding a long handled axe, Ram stared back with deep brown eyes until the zombie turned its head—they were easily confused beasts and the fading echo of the Humvee's engine had the thing looking about in uncertainty.
When it began to shuffle on, Ram scarcely gave it another thought. Instead he flicked his eyes at the shadows beneath the eaves of the colonial houses , He stared hard into the gloom below the tall trees and glanced into the open doors around him; it was in these dark places where the real threat lurked. It was always the ones you didn't see that were the most dangerous. They hung back, skulking like spiders, waiting for the unwary to become their next meal.
Nothing stirred. Especially not the body lying on the street. It was this, which had stopped him.
Stepping out of the Humvee, Ram glanced down at it with his hackles up, nervous at first. However when he saw that it was dead beyond any chance at reviving he relaxed. There was a bullet hole, neat as you please, right in the center of its head.
Another body, face down on the lawn of a brick home drew his attention. With the axe in his right hand and his Beretta in his left he eased toward the house. Using his boot he kicked the body over; again dead and again a perfect shot between the eyes.
"Hmmm," he said. On a whim Ram entered the house and ghosted around the lower floor, seeing nothing of note but a ball of snot hawked up on a wall.
The snot was old, maybe a day, maybe two; it was hard to tell in this new world of theirs. Other than the relics of cities and towns and the empty rivers of concrete that had once been highways, the earth was quickly reverting to its pre-human form and the recent activities of men seemed to stand out and linger against the backdrop of nature. Cooking meat could be smelled for miles; cars or gunshots would waft along the air further than any thought possible, at least until it was experienced; and the sight of a person—a real live person was like a lighthouse beacon on a black night.
Coming north from the CDC , Ram had seen only thirteen people, none of whom had heard the first thing about the killer he hunted. These thirteen had varied in terms of friendliness. Some had come forward, grinning and eager to shake his hand, while
"Oh hush," Jillybean said. She didn't like to be told she was wrong, and certainly not by some silly stuffed animal. "Maybe they would've smelled me on you and eaten you thinking you are tasty, which I'm sure you're not...speaking of smell, what is that?"
It was food.
The man had cooked something and the smell sent her stomach rumbling like a motor. She hurried to the back door of the place and was happy to find it unlocked. "Oh my gosh!" she said, rushing in, overcome by the odor of cooked food. There, next to the fireplace, was a frying pan; within it were the remains of the man's breakfast. It had been meat of some sort, fried in oil with a touch of teriyaki sauce.
The little girl spat out the bitter acorns that she had been storing in her cheeks and ate the scraps greedily. The meat was strangely tangy, yet to her starved taste buds it was heaven. The scraps filled Jillybean's tummy nicely, and though it was still only mid-morning, she pulled a large comfortable chair close to the glowing embers in the fireplace and took a nap, curled up like cat.
Chapter 2
Ram
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Victor Ramirez stopped the Humvee in the middle of the street and clicked off the engine so that the silence of the new world clung to him, wrapping itself around the lone man. Though in truth he wasn't completely alone. A corpse, wearing the black rags that had at one time denoted it as a master chef, turned slowly on its spindly grey legs and gazed at the Humvee from sixty yards, its dull mind trying to remember if the vehicle had been there minutes before.
Sitting completely still, holding a long handled axe, Ram stared back with deep brown eyes until the zombie turned its head—they were easily confused beasts and the fading echo of the Humvee's engine had the thing looking about in uncertainty.
When it began to shuffle on, Ram scarcely gave it another thought. Instead he flicked his eyes at the shadows beneath the eaves of the colonial houses , He stared hard into the gloom below the tall trees and glanced into the open doors around him; it was in these dark places where the real threat lurked. It was always the ones you didn't see that were the most dangerous. They hung back, skulking like spiders, waiting for the unwary to become their next meal.
Nothing stirred. Especially not the body lying on the street. It was this, which had stopped him.
Stepping out of the Humvee, Ram glanced down at it with his hackles up, nervous at first. However when he saw that it was dead beyond any chance at reviving he relaxed. There was a bullet hole, neat as you please, right in the center of its head.
Another body, face down on the lawn of a brick home drew his attention. With the axe in his right hand and his Beretta in his left he eased toward the house. Using his boot he kicked the body over; again dead and again a perfect shot between the eyes.
"Hmmm," he said. On a whim Ram entered the house and ghosted around the lower floor, seeing nothing of note but a ball of snot hawked up on a wall.
The snot was old, maybe a day, maybe two; it was hard to tell in this new world of theirs. Other than the relics of cities and towns and the empty rivers of concrete that had once been highways, the earth was quickly reverting to its pre-human form and the recent activities of men seemed to stand out and linger against the backdrop of nature. Cooking meat could be smelled for miles; cars or gunshots would waft along the air further than any thought possible, at least until it was experienced; and the sight of a person—a real live person was like a lighthouse beacon on a black night.
Coming north from the CDC , Ram had seen only thirteen people, none of whom had heard the first thing about the killer he hunted. These thirteen had varied in terms of friendliness. Some had come forward, grinning and eager to shake his hand, while
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