Lockey vs. the Apocalypse | Book 1 | No More Heroes [Adrian's Undead Diary Novel] Meadows, Carl (book recommendations for teens TXT) 📖

“We’re outnumbered more than ten-to-one, they’re the defenders, and they know the grounds and the house. We’re at a major disadvantage.”

“Then we find another way,” I said, refusing to move on this issue. “A smarter way. Shit, there were twenty-nine not so long ago, but there’s twenty-two now after we took down Shooty McFuckface and the six at the petrol station. Let’s take them piecemeal.”

“Shooty Mc…?” Nate gave me a bewildered look. “What?”

“Never mind,” I said, waving it away. “Look, if we unleash the undead into that compound and an innocent gets bitten or killed by one, that’s no accident, Nate. We would have done that, and those deaths would be entirely our fault.” I shook my head vigorously. “This is our world, Nate, and they’re the invaders. I’m not willingly giving the undead another legion of followers by our hand. We’re meant to be taking the world back from them, not adding to their army.”

“That’s not a fight we can win,” murmured Nate.

“Fuck you, Negative Nancy,” I said, jaw set. “Just because we might not win, doesn’t mean we don’t try to. Just because we might not be able to achieve perfection isn’t a viable excuse for not trying. No, I’m not giving up my humanity by surrendering others to the undead, no matter how much of a shitbag they are. I’m not letting the part of me die that makes being alive worthwhile.”

Nate was quiet for a time, saying nothing, resuming his observation while I silently seethed beside him. If we assaulted them, yes, killing shots that weren’t to the head raised a zombie that would need dealing with, and yes, those singular undead could draw fire for a time. I accept that. Someone dying from anything other than a brain-destroying wound will stand back up. That’s our new reality. That’s the world we live in now.

But driving a truck full of undead—already in that monstrous state—through those gates, just to let them run amok?

Hell no.

That equates to pushing people off a boat circled by blood-hungry sharks, just because you don’t like them. We have to be better than that.

“I know undead will rise with every man we take down,” I said finally, the silence becoming unbearable. “But I can’t do what you’re suggesting, Nate. I just can’t.”

He exhaled in a long breath, like an extended sigh.

“I know, kid,” he said softly. “We’ll find another way.”

And just like that, he accepted it and we moved on, saying no more about it.

You know, Nate confuses me like no person I’ve ever met. He’s so fucking complicated, like there’s two very different versions of him, existing at the same time. On one hand, he’s cold and practical, unflinching as undead lunge and bullets fly, never getting stressed, always ice cool. Sometimes, like with his zombie truck plan, he can seem downright heartless.

Then there’s the other side of him, the one desperately trying to get out. Under that stone exterior beats the heart of a good and honest man, one who has been forced to make hard choices and will continue to make hard choices, even though it might cause him pain. I’ve seen those flashes of warmth, of compassion, in just the little things. He might rage and flail his arms in frustration at me, but he knows I can take it, and let’s face facts, I usually deserve it.

Freya needs handling differently, and at times he’s painfully gentle with her, even in the tone of voice he uses in her presence. When Freya’s around, Nate radiates this presence that just makes you feel safe.

God, he’s a pain in my arse, but I’m damned if I don’t love that grumpy old shit.

“Piecemeal, you said, huh,” said Nate after a while, dragging me from my wild and random thoughts. Have you ever noticed how the word ‘bed’ actually looks like a bed?

Mind. Blown.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “They have to come out. Let’s make every journey out seem like a really hard decision to make. Remember, Mark said they did the fuel run every two weeks? We’re coming up on that.”

Nate nodded. “I’m thinking the same. We can’t let them know we have their home location though, so no doing it in the vicinity. It’ll be harder now as they’ll plan everything offline, and their radio chatter will just be updates, using words like ‘target’ and referring to timelines. They’ll want to keep details dark so we can’t set up ahead of them.”

“They also won’t want to go far,” I offered. “They’ll want reinforcements able to get there quickly. Next time they won’t take any bait. They’ll hold position and wait for backup.”

Nate’s mouthed quirked a brief smile. “You’re thinking like a soldier, kid.” It was almost something like pride. I got a bit of a kick out of it. “QRF we call it; quick reaction force.”

“QRF, got it.” I nodded. “Here’s where we have an advantage then. I know this little town like the back of my hand, so I can narrow the list of potential targets they’ll likely consider. There’s no way they’ll go back to the same one.”

“I think they will.”

I frowned at that. “They know, that we know, that’s where they fill up. Why would they go back there?”

“Geographically, it’s still the closest to them,” said Nate. “Their QRF can be there in ten minutes max, judging by the last response. However, last time they were comfortable, and would likely have had to quickly assemble a QRF. Shave two or three minutes off for headless chicken mode, and they could have a QRF here in, say, seven minutes. Anywhere else is going to be longer, right?”

I nodded. “It’d be an extra five minutes minimum to the next nearest station.”

“There you go then,” nodded Nate. “Every minute counts and right now, they’re on the back foot. This time, they’ll roll out with a slightly larger force, because they’re paranoid, and their QRF will be ready to go at a moment’s