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

bounced on its shocks as Jessie righted himself and stared back at them, watching them demolish themselves. They howled and screamed in unison as Jessie fired up the car and launched down the driveway, the Abelson family close behind. Bob was spitting out harsh and guttural barks, spittle flying, at the undead things running beside them and clawing at the bars. Jessie stuck out his arm to hold him in place, then hit the brakes and threw it in reverse. These things couldn’t be allowed to live, he hadn’t seen any this fast since day one. He nailed the go pedal and let the clutch engage, aiming his back bumper right for them. Bodies flew, black blood splattered his car, and corpses were ripped open by the sickle bar teeth welded to the cage. Bob spun in his seat and started barking at them through the mesh covering the windshield.

“Hush, Bob!” Jessie yelled over the racket. “Quit barking your fool head off!”

He brought the car to a stop near the porch and eyeballed the carnage. A few of them were down for good, but the rest were dragging their way toward him on broken limbs and torn open bellies. This was the first time he’d taken on a crowd of them, the addition of the cutting teeth all along the exoskeleton made a difference. Not one of them was complete. They were missing hands, legs were dangling, and intestines hung out in ropey loops and dragged behind them in the dirt. Jessie dropped it back in gear and ran over them slowly, the oversized tires and the heavy Merc crushing them, sending rotting guts and reeking blood shooting out in all directions. It hissed and steamed when it sprayed on his exhaust and filled the car with a new kind of stink that even Griz couldn’t match after a bowl of fifteen bean soup. On the way back up the drive, he decided to avoid the quivering bodies. His nose couldn’t take any more. They were unable to move more than tiny increments, but they still tried to follow. Still tried to infect. Jessie glanced at the sky as he and Bob got out again, looking for the first buzzards. He didn’t see any but he knew they would come. He pulled out a walking stick from behind the seat and went back to the remains of the family and put each one out of its misery with the spike on the end.

He was getting used to this, it barely bothered him.

“Come on, Bob,” he whistled to his dog, who was still sniffing around the corpses. “Don’t you dare drop and roll in that mess, you’ll be riding in the trunk.” He cleaned the spike by shoving it in the sandy soil a few times, stowed it, and then headed back to the house to find the family heirlooms.

20

Hasif

Hasif set up the solar panels on the flattened stone peak so they could do their job, give them a little power. It was the only chore that would take him outside into the sunshine, into the fresh air, and he needed to gather his thoughts. It was already in the 70s, a slight breeze was coming from the Mediterranean Sea a hundred miles to the north, but it held no scent of the ocean. It no longer smelled like death either, so he had that to be grateful for.

It was early spring, they’d been cooped up inside the great pyramid since October and he hadn’t realized what a drudgery it would be, sharing the small, cramped spaces. They’d lost two of the solar panels during a windstorm and now were limited on how much power they had to recharge their lights. He and Fariq had purchased the best camping gear they could find before the fall, but it was wearing out and wearing down. After six months of continual use, the remaining solar panels were sand scored and barely putting out a charge. The rechargeable batteries in their flashlights and lanterns were nearly worn out, they would go dead within hours. His patience was nearly worn out, as well. His children got on his nerves, his wife got on his nerves, his best friend got on his nerves. The food they had so judiciously hoarded and stored away was getting on his nerves, he was so sick of the same, bland food. The plan had worked, they had survived the zombie uprising, but they were dying of boredom. In the mad rush to prepare, to hide away enough supplies to ride out the apocalypse inside the pyramid, no one had thought about games or books or something to occupy the mind. For a few months, they had their phones to entertain them, the few games that would work without internet kept them busy, gave them something to look forward to. Now, with the loss of the panels and the others barely working, wasting the trickle charges on the phones wasn’t an option. He and Fariq had spent hours making a chess set, and backgammon and checkers for the children, but he was tired.

Tired of the bickering, the games, the pyramid, the food, the monotony life had become. Sometimes he thought he would rather be in prison. Fariq and his wife had taken the events as a sign that somehow they weren’t devout enough, that Allah was angry his will hadn’t been followed. That the true believers hadn’t been strict enough with the infidels, and this was a way to clear the slate. That going forward there would be no more Jews or Hindus or Christians or any other religion. The one true God had cleaned the world of them and it was their duty to repopulate and live a righteous life. They were already talking about marrying their son to his daughters. The eldest when she flowered, the younger when her time came. He couldn’t prove it, but he was pretty sure they had sabotaged the radio. Fariq’s wife