Zombie High Chronicles (Book 1) Read Online Free

man in the hazmat suit asks. His voice sounds weird inside his mask and I have to stop myself from cracking a Darth Vader joke.
    “Roan Sterling.”
    He turns his entire body to look at me over the tops of his rectangular frameless glasses that perch near the tip of his nose. “I asked for your number, not your name. Please stick to only the pertinent information.”
    “Why bother? It’s on the vial right in front of you.”
    A small tic appears under his eye and I have to smother a smile. For the past few weeks that I have been coming here, he has never once cracked a smile. That might have something to do with my winning wiseass personality and grating humor. It truly is a gift.
    “For verification purposes, you are required to provide this information.”
    The soldier over my shoulder shifts into my peripheral vision to make his presence known and I sigh. Playtime is over.
    “982”
    “Age?” His pen scratches against the paper as he refocuses on business as usual.
    “Seventeen.” At least I am for another three days.
    “Address?”
    The doctor never even bothers to look at me again. I am just another one of his rats in a lab the size of a football stadium.
    “Address?”
    I kick out my legs, sad the discover that the tray holding my vials is just out of reach. “Quadrant 7, House number 11.”
    He nods and turns away. That is it. There is no acknowledgment of who I am or any hint of compassion for the guy he is about to turn into a human pin cushion. Just facts and data to be retrieved for whatever sicko government that still exists.  
    I want nothing to do with my blood aiding in a second attempt at a MONE vaccine reboot but I have little say in the matter. The steroid popping soldier over my shoulder makes that message clear.
    “Is my mom here?” I ask.  It is the same question that I ask every day. The responding silence is as predictable as it is infuriating.
    “She’s a shrink, not a nurse,” I try again, speaking to the doctor’s hunched back as his assistant appears from behind the frosted plastic draped between the examination rooms and sets to work wrapping a rubber band around my upper arm. When she motions for me to pump my fist, I am already in mid-pump. I know the drill. We all do by now.
    “Your friends over there in the camo gear took her when I arrived weeks ago. I just need to know that she's ok.”
    When the doctor turns to face me again, he holds the needle aloft and grips my forearm. He gives no warning before the needle pierces my skin and I grit my teeth as he digs for the vein that he just missed thanks to the scar tissue that he didn’t bother to take the time to look for.
    The dog tags hanging around my neck jingle as I jerk at a spike of pain. “Hold still, please.”
    I open my mouth to tell him where I think he should shove that needle next but the soldier to my right tightens his grip on his gun and I know that I am about to get cracked in the skull...again.
    It has been three days since my last outburst and I am still nursing the knot on the back of my head. Instead, glare at the soldier and force myself to relax.
    “All done. Report back at 0700 tomorrow.”
    That is it. I am free to leave and return to life as usual, not that there is anywhere to go.  Tossing a bird finger at the doctor, I snatch up my bag and walk out of the curtained room.
    I could have asked the guy to go easy on Short Stack but I know it was wasted breath.  
    When I emerge from the other side of the lab it is completely barren. There is no need for lines here because no one sticks around longer than they have to.
    I follow the exit signs and blink when I step out into the sunlight. Early spring in the south does have it’s advantages. I can easily get away with a t-shirt most days without losing a limb to frostbite.
    “Yo, Roan! Over here.”
    I looked up at the call and saw Flynn waving at me. His unruly brown hair falls into his eyes before he sweeps it aside again. He isn’t a bad guy. In