Zombie Road: The Second Omnibus | Books 4-6 | Jessie+Scarlet Simpson, A. (pride and prejudice read txt) 📖

he heard the startled gasps. He wasn’t among his own people, the Americans frowned on reprimanding their women or children like that.

“QUIET!” Collins yelled right back as Phil stepped between them, forcing Bobby back a step.

Lizzie held her stinging cheek and glared death at the man.

“All of you, in my office. Right now!” Collins said.

The kids were starting to calm down, stopped trying to wiggle away from the arms holding them back. The Sheriff would make sure he got what was coming to him.

Bobby wiped at his lip, started to dust himself off as he turned to go.

“You too, Bobby.” Collins said, still holding Jimmy tight so he couldn’t break away.

“They attacked me!” he said indignantly. “Why should I have to go anywhere?”

His eyes darted around and he realized the walls not only kept the undead out, they kept him in. He couldn’t make a run for it right now, he had to buy some time. He couldn’t get trapped inside her office answering a bunch of questions. If the little bastard quit crying long enough to tell her, she’d be sure to match the bite mark. His survival story would never hold up under any kind of scrutiny. If there were any reason to question it, they’d figure out pretty quick his tale of being all alone, of scavenging by himself all through the winter was a lie.

“Everybody involved. My office.” She said, steel in her voice.

“Um, okay.” he finally agreed. “But I need to go home and change out of this shirt. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“No.” she told him. “Right now. I need to get to the bottom of this.”

“I told you I’ll be there in a minute, Debbie.” he said a little more forcefully, letting her know her place. “I’m going to get cleaned up while you get these little hellions under control.”

“He’s going to run.” Tony said, firmly in Mrs. Parsons grasp. “He’s going to get away.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Bobby sneered at him. “Run from what? You crazy orphans? I ought to beat some respect into you. You can’t go around attacking people.”

He straightened his shirt again, making a big show of the missing buttons and trying to get his temper under control.

“You killed my sister.” Jimmy said, his crying was finished. His outburst was over. He only had a quiet, simmering anger in his eyes now. A dark and terrible hatred.

“Nonsense.” Bobby said and started to leave.

“Everybody knows about the Munson massacre President Meadows found on his train trip.” Lizzie said, his handprint still visible on her face.

“Everybody knows there used to be a bunch of jihadi’s running around killing survivors.”

“Now you’re being racist.” Bobby said. “I thought we’d moved beyond that here in Lakota.”

“Ask him how he got that scar on his hand.” Tony said. “Ask him about the boy who got away from them and hid under the church.”

All eyes turned to look at Bobby’s hand and he tried to cover it and laugh it off.

“I told you, I got cut up by some barbed wire.” he said. “This is nonsense. These kids lack discipline and something needs to be done about it. I was attacked. I ought to press charges!”

Jimmy had stopped struggling and Collins loosened her grip.

“You be still, James.” she said under her breath and he nodded.

She saw Bobby try to hide the scar, listened to him shift the blame and play the victim. Saw him lose his temper and the real Bobby surfaced if only for a few seconds. Things were clicking into place, the niggling bits of his story that just seemed too perfect. Her eyes hardened as she stepped away from Jimmy, out into the street, and rested her hand on her Colt Python. Scratch and Stabby both slipped up behind him and they didn’t look friendly anymore. Scratch knew a little Farsi, he knew what he’d called Lizzie and they’d been on the train. They’d seen the carnage and now they saw the glad-handing new guy in a new light. Maybe Jim was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t him. But maybe he was right.

“Now.” she said. “Everyone involved. My office. Right now.”

Bobby sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” he said. “We’ll do it your way, Debbie. Lead the way.”

She extended an arm, indicating she’d follow.

“Keep your hands where I can see them.” she told him and Bobby started to get nervous. If they listened to the kids’ story, they would match the chunk of missing flesh to the size of the boy’s bite and it would be hard to explain away. If they searched his house, it would be impossible. He’d kept mementos. The beheadings of the Christians had been his first righteous act with his brothers in arms after they left their compounds. He’d wanted little keepsakes so he wouldn’t forget. He’d kept an infidel rosary from one of the nuns and it had the name of the orphanage engraved on the back of the cross. A gift from the diocese for twenty years of service. There were others, too. The embroidered scarf with the children’s names from a family they’d found on a farm in Mississippi. A stained yamaka from a small group they discovered hiding out in the swamps of Louisiana. They’d been on the hunt for weeks in the chaotic beginning when their army was strong. They had dispensed Mohammad’s justice, they had killed the infidels wherever they could find them before they’d been nearly wiped out.

He’d only survived the battle at Lakota by jumping in the river. After that, he and the other’s that fled had gone south, hiding from the truckers, the zombies and the retrievers. They avoided contact and remained hidden from the world, staying at a fishing camp deep in the bayou country of Louisiana. There weren’t any roads where they hid out, the only way in was by boat. He’d been found, though. He’d gotten careless and dozed off when he was on a supply run up to Houma, happy to