Zombie Dawn II: A Zombie Apocalypse Sequel Read Online Free

seemed to make a decision.
    “Sure, mister, just don’t hurt me.”
    “Call me Jack.  Can I call you
Michah?  I won’t hurt you.”
    I held my open hands up to Micah,
sort of a universal symbol of non-aggression.  Of course, Micah was unarmed and
my nine was in my lap, but he saw it for what it was, with a look of profound
relief.
    “OK, Jack, I will bring you there. 
But please don’t hurt me.”
    “Don’t worry, Micah.  I’ll protect
you.”
    This followed by a grateful look with
his big brown eyes.
    “Well thanks, Jack.  By the way, what’s
wrong with your face?  It’s all swollen and blue.”
    I hadn’t realized how bad this tooth
ache was looking on the outside.  Michah had taken my mind off it for a
moment.  Now the throbbing returned like a motherfucker.
    “It’s a toothache, Micah.  Ever had
one?”
    “Sure, I had ‘em when I was a kid. 
My daddy took care of it with some pliers.”  This followed with a proud display
of a mouthful of missing teeth.
    “You know how to do it?”
    “Yeah, once I had to do one for
Daddy.  But he got real mad, cause I didn’t pull hard enough.”
    “Do you think you can do this for me,
Michah?”
    “I’ll do muh best, Jack.  We have the
pulling tools at the shop.”

 
    Chapter 7:      Mike’s
Journal—Mike and Ian
    This is my fourth entry.  I wonder if
anyone is seeing these.  Is it worth it?  Who knows and who cares?  I really
can’t see any hope, and I’m just waiting for a chance to kill Mariana.  If I
get her, sissy-boy will be easy.  Although they’ll get me if I do.  I don’t
give a shit about that, except that I’ll make sure I don’t turn into one of
them.
    But they take my rifle away anytime
I’m anywhere near her.  I have attendants, one human and one brain, who
constantly watch me.  That fucking ginger Marvel is the human.  I would hate
him even in the old days.  Those watery eyes, pale skin, the underbite.  He
stinks and has horrible breath.  I plan to feed him his own kidneys some day. 
The brain would be a total hottie if she was human, but she is a reeking
monster with red eyes and worse breath than Marvel.  I think of her as
Brittany, just because I hate that fucking name.  But even she’s not as bad as
Marvel, that inbred shitstain.  She’s too smart to eat me but I can tell she
wants to.
    I don’t have any other weapons, just
the Lapua .338 sniper gun that Uncle Jim gave me.  I’m getting even better with
it.  Santos uses me to pick off the leaders of the bands of humans that he
captures.  Also, to identify any shooters in the groups, and to train them. 
For the attack on the Farm—and my Dad. 
    Santos puts me with a guy, Ian, to
improve my sniping skills.  This guy Ian is a real prick. Big faggy English
accent, and claims to be a former SAS man.
    “We are the best bleedin’ fighters in
the whole world, bar none.”
    Some of the guys would want to take
him on.  One guy was a former US Army Ranger.  Very tough guy, I thought.  But
Ian tuned him up without mercy.  First of all, he was huge.  But he also
cheated.  Eye gouge, ball grab, knee kick, all kinds of cheap shit.  All in
about one second.  The guy hadn’t even felt one before Ian slammed him with
another.  He ended with his evil, filthy knife against the Ranger’s throat.  I
was surprised that he didn’t finish it.
    “That’s how it’s done, guv’nor.”  He
knew his fake Cockney accept would piss us off even more.
    Anyway, he’d scored a few bottles of
rum that day from an RV and decided to share with us as he regaled us with
stories of his SAS exploits.
    “Did you know that the Brits were
there when you Yanks got Saddam?”
    “How about when your Seals got
Osama?  We were there, too, and that was our mission.  Your Seals are nice
lads, but nothing compared to us SAS lads.”
    “SAS killed Hitler in WWII, don’t you
know.  It was in late 1944 in the Alps.  Not in Berlin, like you wankers
imagine.”
    “SAS