Zombies Ever After: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 6 Read Online Free Page A

now
it was covered in the same filth as the man's clothes. Like she'd
been collecting trash and rolling in what came out of each
bag. But she also had something on her arm. A kind of big rubber band
up near her shoulder. The lower part of her arm was purple. He was
tempted to say something, but it was too creepy. Surely she had to
know her arm wasn't right?
    The man stroked his beard, which revealed a couple cigarette
butts, a shiny blue pen cap, and a moving bug or two. He tried to
focus on Liam. “We dead. Been dead for a lonnnng time.”
    Liam took a step back, into a nearby pile of empty trash bags. He
jumped when one of them yelped. A small mangy-looking chihuahua
hopped out. It fared no better than its humans.
    “Well, thanks for talking. I should get going.”
    “Wait. Have you seen ma' husband?” asked the woman.
    “No. Sorry.”
    She cussed heavily, and angrily. The thrust of her complaint was
that her husband took off with the drugs. Others nearby were
similarly agitated by the story.
    “Did you take his stuff?” she asked sadly.
    “I don't know about that. Sorry. I have to go, really.”
This time, he purposely stepped into the pile of trash, through the
same gap he entered.
    “Wait, kid,” said the bearded guy. He'd trailed Liam
to the outer line of debris, and made like he didn't want the others
to hear. After an impressive effort to steady himself, his eyes
almost looked focused and normal. He expected to be let in on their
survival secret.
    “Do you have any papers?”
    Liam had known a few stoners in school. The type of kids who
smoked weed and partied hard on the weekends. Several of them, he
found through friends, actually got their “agriculture”
from their parents—because they saw no harm in it. But that was
about the limit of his exposure to drugs. He'd heard about harder
stuff—smack, spank, crank, or whatever it was called, but his
friends weren't in that scene. His group spent their money on
Mountain Dew and monthly subscriptions to their online games.
    But these people. They'd been afflicted in the worst way by drugs.
He could see that now.
    Do drugs make a person so dead inside even the zombies don't
want them?
    The incident would have to go in his book. He'd try to get back
here, someday, and see if he could figure it out. For now...
    “Good luck to you,” he said in a normal voice. If any
of them heard him—they were looking right at him—they
said nothing to show it. The woman spoke to herself in low, angry
tones, and the man continued to stare straight ahead. Others picked
through trash or sat dejectedly on the benches. One man stood against
a telephone pole and repeatedly struck it with his head.
    He turned and ran into the street again, seeking cleaner air.
    5
    He ran two blocks before seeing zombies again. Ahead, several
loitered near the broken windows of a row of sandwich shops and
trendy boutiques. A few more hovered near a super-long black RV
tipped over in the middle of an intersection. They seemed lethargic,
rather than their usual roaming selves, but he figured they'd not
seen prey in a while. Somehow they'd missed the action with the tanks
and gunfire further back in the city.
    He walked backward, hoping to use a cross street, but both
directions had zombies standing around. He studied the area, hoping
not to have to backtrack. Running past them was an option, too, but
he didn't think it was smart to run toward the zombies if he
didn't have to, yet.
    On the other side of the street, there was a low-rise structure
with a huge word spray-painted on the front brick wall which said
“SAFE” with an arrow pointing to a single wooden door.
    Better safe, than sorry, eh old bean?
    His imaginary voice sometimes carried a British accent.
    He ran for the door, disappointed to see several of the zombies on
the other side of the road turn as they heard him approach.
    Luckily, they didn't come running. He was too fast for them to
have any chance of catching him, even if they