Life After The Undead (Book 1) (85 page)

Liet
lowered
his
arms,
his
mouth curled
into
a
smile.
“Fill two
more.
I
want
to
see
Wilks.
See
what
happened
to
him.”

“He
’s
outside
with
the
trucks.
Trust
me,
he’s
worthless.
You
’l
l
need
to
find
someone
else
to
take
the truck
down
to
Florida.”

Liet
walked
around
the
desk.
We
left
the
office.
A smug
smile
of
satisfaction
crept
onto
my
lips, and
I
fought
to
keep
it
under
control.

We
stepped
into
the
sunlight,
and
Liet
walked
up
to
the
vehicle,
pushing
Bill
and
Quinn
aside.
He
climbed
into
the
truck,
pulling
Wilks
out
by
his
collar.
The
sedative
Bill
had given
him had
worn
off
hours
ago.
His
skin took
on
a
pasty
white
pallor,
and
he
fidgeted
with
his
fingers.
He
didn
’t
even
notice
Liet.

“What
did
you
do
to
him?”
Liet
growled
at Quinn.

“What
did
we
do?
We
did
what
you
asked
us
to.” Quinn
clenched
his
teeth
and
placed
his
hands
on
his
hips.

Liet
released
his
collar
and
pushed
Wilks
aside.
“Useless.
Utterly
useless.
Take
him
with
you.
With
any
luck,
the
zombies
will
take care
of
him.”

Wilks’
eyes
grew
wide
at
the
word
zombie,
and
he
visibly
shook.
A
look
of
disgust
crossed
Liet’s
face.

“Zzzzombies.”
Wilks
stuttered.
“Zzzzombies
are
everywhere.
They
got
Anderson.”
  He
glanced
over
his
shoulder.
“They
’r
e
going
to
get
you
too.”
He
grabbed
Liet
by
the
arms
and
shook
him.

Liet
pushed
him
away,
and
Wilks
fell
to
the
ground.

“I
won
’t
go
back
out
there.
You
can
’t
make
me
go
out
there!”

“Get
him
out
of
my
sight.”

Bill
went
to
help
Wilks to his
feet.
Wilks
moved
as if
he
’d been electrocuted
out
of
Bil
l’
s
grasp
and
pulled
his
gun
out
of
the
holster.
He
pointed
it
at
the
guys.

“You
stay
away
from
me. All
of
you.”

“You
’d
better
use
it
or
put
it
away,
son.”
Liet
’
s
eyes
flashed
with
anger.

Wilks
trained
the
gun
on
him.
“I
won
’t
go
back
out
there.”
He
turned
the
gun
on
himself
and
pulled
the
trigger.

My
mouth
dropped
open as
his
body
fell
to
the
ground
in
slow
motion.
Bits
of
brain
matter
and
skull clanked
onto
the
ground. My chest tightened, and I gasped for air.

“Well,
I
guess
that
problem
solved
itself.”
Liet
stepped
over
his
body.
“I
still
need
my
two
trucks.”
He
snapped
his
fingers,
and
soldiers
from the
courthouse
came
down
and
grabbed
the
body.

It
took
me a
while
to
catch
my
breath,
and
Quinn
helped
me
into
the
truck.
I
couldn’t
understand
why
Wilks’
death
affected
me
so
much.
I
’d seen
people
torn
apart
and
skinned
by
zombies,
and
I
didn
’t
give
it
a
second
thought.
I
personally
took
out
hundreds
of
undead,
and
it
didn
’t
faze
me
, but
watching
Wilks
take
his
own
life
shook
me
to
my
soul.
Maybe
it
was
because
I
thought
I
’d
seen
it
all. Maybe
I
thought
that
as humans
we
had
to
do
everything
to
survive,
that
we
owed
it to
ourselves
and
the
race.
Maybe
I
thought
no
one
was
really
that
weak.
I
didn’t
know.
What
I
did
know
was
that
the
image
of
his
mushroomed
head
and
brain
matter
oozing
onto
the
ground
was
going
to
be
burned
into
my
mind
’s
eye
for
the rest
of
my
life.

CHAPTER
22

I stared
out
the
front
window,
trying
to
get
the
vision
of
Wilks
out
of
my
head.
My breathing had returned to normal. A
numb
realization coursed through me.
I
tried to
remember
my
psychology
stuff.
I
thought
that
would
help
me
understand
why
he’d done
it.
What
type
of
personality
was
needed
for
suicide?
I
was
pretty
sure
Wilks
hadn’t been
depressed.
Although
he
cou
ld’v
e
been.
North
Platte
wasn
’t
exactly
a
vacation
destination.
It
could
have
been
the
same
thing
my
parents
had.
What
was
that
called
again?
Some
stress disorder.
Of
course,
it
was
possible
he’d been
crazy.
I
didn’t
know.
I’d
just
met
the
guy.
I
’d
probably
never
know
why
he’d done
it.

“You
all
right?”

I
turned
to
Quinn
but
looked
through
him.
“Why
didn’t
you
do
anything
to
stop
him?”

“What
could
I
have
done?”

“You
could
have
rushed
him.
Taken
the
gun
away.
I
don’t
know.
Anything.”

Quinn
sighed
and
placed
his
hand
on
my
knee.
“Krista,
if
he
didn
’t
shoot
himself,
he
would
have
shot
us.
He
’d
completely
lost his
mind.
There
was
no
way
we
could
have
talked
him
down.”

He
was
right,
of
course,
but
it
seemed
as if
someone
should
have
done
something
. “Have
you
seen
this
happen
before?”

Quinn
nodded.
“People
lose
hope.
They
’r
e
afraid
of
becoming
the
living
dead,
so
they
take
what
they
believe
is
the
only
way
out.
Sadly,
it’s
more
of
a
common
occurrence
than
you
can
imagine.”

“
There
is
hope.
Look
at
what
we
’r
e
doing.”

Quinn
rubbed
my
knee.
“It’s
okay
for
you
to
grieve
for
him.
In
fact,
it’s
healthy.
And
it
makes
you
human.
When
people
get
to
that
point,
not
much
is
going
to
change
their
minds.”

Anger
flared
into
my
chest,
and
I
turned
away
from
Quinn.
I
doubted
he
was
purposely
being
condescending,
but
that
didn
’t
make
me
feel
any
better.
I
didn’t
need
to
be
talked
to
as if
I
were
five.
Of
course it
was
all
right
for me
to
grieve
for
him.
Why
wasn
’t
Quinn
grieving?
Had
he
seen
it
so
many
times
he
was
callous
to
the
situation?
Why
was
I
grieving?
I
hadn’t
known
him.
In
the
grand
scheme
of
things, he
was
one
less
person
I
had
to
worry
about
saving
, but he
was
also
one
less
person
in
the
world,
and
we
were
already
low
on
population.
I
was
sure
we
’d
be
on
the
endangered
species
list
if
there
still
was
one.

We
drove
the
rest
of
the
way
in silence.
After
we
loaded
the
trucks,
we
headed
to
Quinn’s
ranch
to
rest
for the
night.
I
had
a
difficult
time
sleeping.
Every
time I
closed
my
eyes
I saw
Wilks
shoot
himself.
I
got
up
and
decided
to
get
some
fresh
air.
As
I
passed
the
couch,
Quinn
didn
’t
seem
to
be
faring
much better.
He
twitched
and
made
low
moaning noises.
At
one
point,
he
twitched
so
badly
he
kicked
the
arm
of
the
couch.
I gently
shook
his
shoulder
to
wake
him,
and
he
shot
straight
up.

“Don
’t
do
it!”
he
screamed.

I sat
next
to
him.
I
put
my
arm
around
his
shoulders,
and
he
buried
his
face
in
my
neck.
As I
sat
on
the
couch,
staring
at
the
ceiling
and
stroking
his
hair,
I
felt
the
anger
melt
out
of
my
body.
Quinn
wasn
’t
being
callous
earlier
in
the
day,
he
was
dealing
with
the
death
the
best
way
he knew
how.
As I
thought
about
it, I realized it
was
actually
really
sad that he’d seen
that
happen
before.
No
one
should
have
to
witness
that.
I
hoped
it
wasn
’t
family
or
a
close
friend.
I
wou
ld’
ve
asked
him
about
it,
but
I
figured
he
would
have
told
me
if
he
wanted
to.
He
wasn
’t
immune
to
feelings
. He
just
didn’t
show
them.

The
next
day,
it
was
difficult
for
both of
us
to
get
out
of
bed.
I
’d gone
back
upstairs
around
midnight,
then
tossed
and
turned.
At
ten,
I
forced
myself
downstairs.
Quinn
was
still
on
the
couch,
but
he
got
up
and
joined
me in
the
kitchen.
He
brewed
us a
pot
of
coffee.