Life After The Undead (Book 2): Death to the Undead (26 page)

Quinn
signaled
he
was
ready,
so
I
went
over the
side.
This trip
down
was
a lot
faster
than the
first.
I
assumed it
was
because
there
were
zombies in the
neighborhood
and
he
didn’t
want
me
to be a
piñata.
When
my
feet
touched
the
concrete,
I
pulled
out
my
gun
and
stood
ready.
I
shot
a
couple
of
creatures
in
the
area.
I’m
not sure
if they
noticed
me, but
I
wasn’t
going
to
take
the
chance.
It
only
took one
moan.
The
bags
plopped
onto the
ground
next to
me.
One
of
them
almost
hit me, but that
was
my
fault,
I
walked
in
circles,
trying
to
take
in
my
entire
surroundings.
Still,
I
looked up
at
Quinn with a scowl.

He
cringed
and
mouthed
“Sorry,” before
heading
down the
drain
pipe.

Once
he
was
on the
ground,
I
went
for
one
of the
bags.
He
stopped
me.

“We’ll
come
back
for
those,”
he
said. “We
need
to
find a
vehicle.”

I
glanced
around
the street.
There
were
plenty
of
abandoned
cars
sitting around, but
they’d
been
sitting
there for
years. More
than
likely,
the
batteries
were
dead
or
they
didn’t
have keys
or
they
were
occupied
by
undead.
The
situation
sucked. There
was no other way
to
put it.
We
ran
through
zombie-filled
streets
with
nothing
but our wits and
what
ammunition we
had
left.
There
was
the distinct possibility
we
would die or
get
bitten.
The
one
thing
that
kept
me
moving
was
my
intense
anger.
I
was
so
mad
at
Duncan and his
people,
I
would have
jumped
through
fire
to
make
sure
I
got
my
revenge.

The
adrenaline
pumped
through
my
veins,
making
it
easier
to
move.
I
still
couldn’t
hear
very
well,
but
my
sense
of
sight
and
smell
heightened.
At
least
it felt like
it
did. Quinn and
I
stayed
close
to
each
other, shoulder to
shoulder,
and
made
our
way
methodically
down the
street.

It
wasn’t
any
different
than
clearing
a
building.
We
stayed
alert
and
in contact so we
didn’t
accidentally
shoot one
another.
We
checked the
first
vehicle
that
looked like
it
might
run.
It
was
a
compact
car.
It
was
small
and not
my
first
choice, but anything
was
better
than
being
on
foot. I
would
have
taken
a
go-cart
at
that
moment.

Quinn stood
guard
while
I
checked
the
door. Locked.

I
glanced
in the
window.
If
there
were keys,
it
might
be
worth
breaking
the
window to
get
in.
Nothing.
I
turned
to Quinn and
jerked
my
head
to the
side. We
continued
down the
street.

The
next
car
we
came
to
was
an
SUV,
which
would
have worked
out
great.
It
had
plenty
of
room and
was
well
protected.
I
went
up
to the
window
and
glanced
in.
Keys
were inside.
I
reached for
the handle.
Something
slammed
against
the
back
window. I
jumped
back. A
young girl,
probably
no
more
than 12,
smashed
against
the
glass.
Her
black
hair
was
stringy,
her face
gray
with
black
spots
where
the
flesh
was
about
to
fall
off. Her
teeth
clicked
against the
window
as
she
snapped
at
me.
I
took a
deep
breath,
and
we
moved on.

My
hope
faltered,
and
the
streets
were
getting
more
crowded
with the
walking
dead.
Luckily,
none
of
the
creatures
had
spotted us,
but
that
could
change
at
any
moment.
I
was
surprised
we
hadn’t
been
seen.
Why
didn’t they
notice
us?
We weren’t
hiding;
we
were
walking
down the
middle of
the
street.
Quinn even killed
a
few
creatures
who
came
too
close.
But
none
of
them
moaned,
not one of
them
sounded
the
dinner
bell.

We
came
to
an
extended
cab
truck.
I
didn’t hold out
any
hope.
After
the
last two,
I
was
sure
we’d be
running
the
entire
way
back to Dashton. I
glanced
in.
The
keys
were
in the
ignition.
That
was
lucky.
I
pulled
on the
handle
and
opened the door.
Finally! Something went
our
way.
I
turned the key. The
engine
turned
over
but
didn’t
start.
I
tried
again. Same
thing.
Quinn stood with
his
back
against
the truck.

“Anything?”
he
whispered.

I
poked
my
head
out,
annoyed
he
would even
ask.
Couldn’t he
hear?
“Nothing.”
I
tried to
keep
my
anger
in
check.
I
wasn’t
mad
at
him. He
was
in the
same
situation
I
was.
Yelling
wouldn’t
help
anything.

“Our
chances
of
finding
something
on the
street
are
not
good,”
I
told him.
“We
have
to find
something
that
wasn’t
abandoned. Like
a
car
dealership or
something.”

He
wiped
the
sweat
from his
forehead
with the
back
of
his
hand.
“The
closest
place
is five
blocks
away.”
He
pointed
to the
right.