Life After The Undead (Book 1) (6 page)

“Isn’t
there
anything
up
here
besides
Christmas
crap?”
he
spoke
almost
to
himself.

Mom
slowly
approached
and
wrapped
her
arms
around
his
shoulders.
He
buried
his
face
in
her
neck
and
they
hugged
for
several
minutes.

Eventually,
he
looked
up
and
wiped
his
nose
on
the
back
of
his
hand.

“Okay.
We
need
to
figure
out
what
we
’r
e
dealing
with.
Any
ideas?”  He
looked
at
his
wife.

Mom
shook
her
head
and
folded
her
arms
across
her
chest.
“Maybe
it’s
gang
related.”

Dad
grimaced.
“What
gangs
do
we
have
in
Oregon?”

Mom
slapped
her
hands
on
her
thighs.
“We
have
Neo-Nazis
here.
It’s
not
that
unheard
of.
Gangs
attack
and
kill
people
all
the
time.”

“I
don’t
think
it’s
Neo-Nazis.”

“Then
what
is it?”

“Maybe
they
’r
e
escaped
convicts.
We
probably
wouldn
’t
hear
about
a
prison
break,”
Dad
suggested.

“Seventh
graders
were
attacking
other
students,
Dad,”
I
interjected.
“I
don
’t
think
it’s
escaped
convicts.”

He
glanced
at
me.
His
look
told
me
he
wanted
to
know
what
I
thought
it
was.

“What
if
it’s
zombies?”
I
asked.

Mom
cocked
her
head
to
the
right. “Zombies? Yeah,
tha
t’s
more
believable
than
a
gang
or
escaped
convicts.
You
really
watch
too
many
horror
movies.
As
soon
as
we
get
out
of here,
I’
m taking
all
your
books
and
movies
away.”

“Think
about
it.
They
don’t
move
very
fast
or
well.
They
’r
e
attacking
the
living
and
eating
their
flesh.
What
else
could
they
be?”

“Maybe
they
’r
e
crazy,”
Mom
said.

Dad
huffed.
“How
many
crazy
people
do
you
know
who
eat
people?”

“Jeffrey
Dahmer.”

Dad
shook
his
head.
“He
cooked
them
first.
He
didn’t
eat
them
raw.
Besides,
he
never
attacked
them
on
the
street.
Or in
a
group.”

Mom
unfolded
her
hands
and
threw
them
up
into
the
air.
“You
can’t
expect
me
to
believe
the
dead
have
returned
to
life
and
are
killing people.
That
kind
of
stuff
only
happens
in
the
movies.
It’s
insane
.”

“What
if
the
movies
were
right?”
  I
whispered.
“What
if
the
movies
were made
to
make
us
believe
it
can
only
happen
in
them?”

Mom
chuckled,
a
small
nervous
sound.
“And
why
would
anyone
release
zombies
into
the
world?”

“What
if
it’s
a
biological
weapon?”
I
asked.

Mom’s
breath
caught
in
her
throat
and
her
skin
paled.
Dad
stared
at
me.

“It
would
be
the
greatest
weapon
because
no
one
would
believe
zombies
were
actually
attacking.”

Dad
and
Mom
stared at
each
other
for a
moment.
“We
’v
e
got
to
get
out
of
here,”
Mom
whispered.

“And
go
where?”
asked
Dad.
“If
Krista
is
right,
then
this
thing might
be
spreading
across
the
entire
country.
If
no
one
believes
zombies
are
attacking,
how
are
they
going
to
defend
against
it?”

“I
don’t
care
where
we
go,
but
we
can
’t
stay
here.” Mom
folded
her
hands
across
her
chest.
“We
have
no
food
and
water.
We
have
to
try
to
find
help.”

Dad
sighed.
“All
right
, but
we
’r
e
not
going
to
run
out
there
without
a
plan.
We
need
to
figure
out
where
we
’r
e
going
and
how
we
’r
e
going
to
get
there.
What
do
we
know
about
zombies?”

CHAPTER
2

By
the
time
my
parents
and
I
made
a
plan,
it
was
night.
We
agreed
that
whatever
we
learned
from
the
movies
probably
wouldn
’t
translate
into
real
life.
We
talked
about
all
the
movies
we
’d
seen
and
decided
the
creatures
were
more like
George
Romero
zombies
than
28
Days
Later
zombies.
They
didn’t
move
very
fast
and
craved
human
flesh.
Although,
we
were
pretty
sure
they
weren
’t
turned
into
the
undead
by
space radiation
.
Other
than
that,
we
couldn’t
make
any
comparisons. None
of
us
had
a
chance
to
study
the
undead.
As if
we
’d
want
to.
We
hoped
they
could
be
killed
by
a
shot
to
the
brain
or by
beheading,
but
the
only
way
to test
our
theory
was
on
a
zombie.
We
were
all
still
too scared
to
poke
our
heads
out
the
window
and
start
firing.

We
figured
our
best
hope
would
be
to
get
to
the
nearest
military
base.
On
a
good
day,
the
closest
one
was
forty-five
minutes
away,
but
we
had
no
idea
what
the
roads
would
be like
or how
many
zombies
we
’d
encounter
along
the
way.
We
had
a
1911
and
four
rifles,
but
not
that
much
ammunition.
We
couldn’t
stay
and
wait
for
help
. We
had
to
go
find
it.
We
’d
stay
in the
house
for
the
night
and
start
out
in the
morning.

Dad
cautiously
lowered
the
attic
stairs
and
listened.
I
strained
my
ears to
make
sure
he
didn’t
miss
anything.
Nothing.
He
slowly
headed
down
into
the
closet
and
then
opened
the
door.
I
peered
over
the
edge
of
the
attic
as he
shone
a
flashlight
into
the
darkness.
The light illuminated our empty house. He
signaled
for
us
to follow
him,
and
Mom and
I
crept
down
the
stairs.
Dad’s
task
was
to
go
to
the
kitchen
to
grab
as
many
cans
of
food
and
bottles
of
water
as he
could
carry.
Mom
was
in
charge
of
grabbing
bedding
and
extra
clothes,
and
I was to
gather
ammunition and
a
bucket
to
use as
a
bathroom
in
the
attic.
We
worked fast.
We
figured
we
’d
get
enough
supplies
to
see
us
through
the
night,
then
we
’d
gather
more
before
leaving.

It
didn
’t
take
me
long
to
get
my
stuff,
and
after
taking
them
up
to
the
attic,
I
waited
for my
parents
at
the
closet
door.
I
had
the
rifle
in
hand
and
waited
anxiously,
switching
my
weight
from
one
foot
to
the
other.
I
heard
them
rummaging through
the
house,
along
with
another
sound
I
couldn
’t
place.
It
was
so
distant
it
could
have
been
the
wind
howling
through
the
trees,
but
as it
drew
closer, I realized it
was
unmistakably
human,
yet
somewhat
primal.
It
sent
shivers
down
my
back,
and
I
whispered
under
my
breath
for my
parents
to
hurry.

At
first,
there
was
only
one
constant
moaning,
but
soon
enough,
it
was
joined
by
a
few
more,
then
a
lot
more.
I
didn’t
know
exactly
where
the
sound
came
from,
but
it
was
somewhere
in
the
neighborhood.
My
parents
made
it
back
into
the
attic
when
the
moaning sounded
as if it
was
at
the
front
door.
As
Dad
pulled
up
the
attic
stairs,
the
sound
was
muffled
but
never
went
away.
I
popped
in
my
earbuds
and
cranked
the
music so
the
sound
was
drowned
out.
I closed my eyes and pretended it was the only sound that existed.
Needles
by
System
of
a
Down
was playing
when
I
felt
a
hand
on
my
shoulder.
I
opened my eyes and
turned.
Mom
handed
me
a
bowl.
I
pulled
out
one
earbud
and
listened.
The
moaning was
still
prominent,
so
I
put
it
back
in.

We
ate
a
dinner
of
cold
Spaghetti
Os,
then
Mom
and
I
attempted
to
fall
asleep.
It
was
impossible to
get
comfortable
on
my
blankets
and
pillows,
and
my
music
was
so
loud
I
got
a
headache.
A few times I drifted into sleep and
saw
Carmen
and
my
neighbor
being
eaten
alive.

At close
to
three
in
the
morning
my
batteries
died.
Groggily,
I
pulled
the
buds
out
of
my
ears
and
braced
for
the
moaning.
I
was
surprised
when
I
didn
’t
hear
anything
and
sat
up
on
my
makeshift
bed.

Mom’s
soft
breathing
and
Dad
’s
low
snores
sounded
on
the
other
side
of
the
attic.
I
crawled
toward
them.
They
were
curled
up
on
the
blankets
Mom
had
brought
for
them,
and
I
wiggled
my
way
between
them.
They
wrapped
their
arms
around
me,
and
we
slept
for
the
rest
of
the
night.