Life After The Undead (Book 1) (40 page)

Liet
followed
me
up.
He
stood in
my
doorway,
his
arms
crossed
over
his
chest.
“I’m
not
very
happy
about
this
situation.”

I
rolled
my
eyes.
“I
know,
but
you
have
nothing
to
worry
about. I
can
take
care
of
myself.”

“I
realize
that,
Krista,
but
there
are
dangers
in
the
West
that
you
’
ve
never
experienced.
Dangers
you
can’t
even
imagine.”

“And
I
’
m
sure
those
guys
will
make
sure
I
’
m
safe.
Liet,
this
is
the
perfect
opportunity
for
me
to
learn
how
to
be
on
my
own.
I
’
m
going
to
have
to
be
eventually,
you
know.”

“Not
if I
have
anything
to
say
about
it,”
he
mumbled
under
his
breath.
“How
do
you
know
those
guys
will
make
sure
you
’r
e
safe?
You
know
nothing
about
them.
They
could
be
rapists.”

“I
have
a
gun.
And
swords. If
any
of
them
try
anything,
I’ll
cut
them.”

“I
don’t
want
you
getting
too
close
to
them.
Keep
it
professional.
You
don
’t
need
to
share
anything
about
your
life.
Hear
me?”

“I hear
ya.”
I
grabbed
my
bag
before going
downstairs
to
the
waiting
trucks.

I
really
hated
when
Liet
tried
to
be
the
good
guy.
I
think in
some
weird,
messed
up
way
he really
did care
about
me,
but
it
was
the
same
caring
serial
killers
showed
their
victims
before
they
tortured
and
murdered
them.
What
they
thought
was
love,
wasn
’t.
Kindness
and
sympathy
were
not
his
strong
suits,
but
both
of
us
knew
he
had
to
try
to
make
a
show
of
it.
Even
serial
killers
know
how
to function
in
society.

Liet
contracted
with
the
guys
to
bring
back
a
tanker
of
gas
and
a semi
half
full
of
food
and
half
full
of
construction
supplies.
I
rode
in
the
semi,
and
the
brothers
were
in
the
tanker. Liet
showed
up
to
say
goodbye,
and
as
I
climbed
into
the
cab,
he
grabbed
me
gently
by
the arm.

“Please
be
careful.
I
don
’t
know
what
I
’d
do
if
I
lost
you.”

I
smiled,
it
was
probably
more
of
a
smirk,
and
he
released
his
grasp.

We
drove
to
the
gate
and
stopped
at
the
tower.

The
guard
handed
the
guy
’s
gun
through
the
window.
“I
hope
you
took
good
care
of
it.”

The
guard
answered
by
turning
and
opening
the
gate.
My
heart
rate
increased.
I
was
both excited
and
nervous
about
heading
into
the
West.
Memories
of
the
trip
to
International
Falls
entered
my
mind.
There
had
been
a
fair
amount
of
undead
up
there,
but
nothing
compared
to
what
was
supposedly
in the West.
We
were
outnumbered
at
least
a
thousand
to
one,
and
that
was
a
conservative
estimate.
No
one
really
knew
how
many
zombies
there
actually
were.
I
envisioned
all
of them
traveling
in a
massive
pack,
a
writhing
ball
of
rotting
flesh
and
snapping
jaws,
millions
of
them clumped
together,
looking
for
food.
Even
though
that
vision
wasn
’t
true,
it
still
made
me
shudder.

As
soon
as
we
were
a
few
miles past
the
gate,
the
guy
let
out
a
sigh.

“Glad
to
finally
be
out
of
that
place.” 
He
held
his
hand
out.
“We
haven
’t
been
formally
introduced.
Quinn.”

I took
his
hand.
“Krista.”

“Nice
to
meet
you.”
  He
placed
his
hand
back
on
the
wheel.
“How
long
have
you
lived
in North
Platte,
Krista?”

“A
few
months.
I’m
not
sure
exactly
how
many. Time
is
weird
out
here.”

He
chuckled.
“Yeah,
it
’s
hard
to
keep
track
of
it
when
you
don’t
have
a
calendar.
Where
did
you
live
before?”

“Before
North
Platte
or before
the
zompocalypse?”

“Both.”

“Well,
before
North
Platte,
it
was
Florida.
Before
that,
Oregon.
You?”

“Wyoming
born
and
raised.”

“How
old are
you?”

“Eighteen.
And
you?”

“Seventeen.”

The
conversation
drifted
into
silence,
and
I
stared
out
the
window.
After
a
few
hours,
a
sign
on
the
road
welcomed
us
into
Wyoming.
The
landscape
changed from flat
burned
-
out
fields
into
rolling
hills
with
an
occasional
zombie
herd
in
the
distance.

“How
many
zombies
do
you
think
there
are?”
  I
turned
to
Quinn.