Free Bad Blood (Battle of the Undead Book 1) by Nicky Peacock

men were yelling at one another in the next room. I focused on my surroundings. I was in the museum gift shop, tied to a chair with old fashioned skipping ropes. The teenagers from the museum steps were staring at me. The girl inched forward.
    “How come you’re still alive? Are you a zombie?”
    “Do I look like a zombie, kid?”
    “No. You also talk as well,” she whispered.
    “Good point.” I nodded.
    The distant argument reached a crescendo, and both teens grimaced.
    “Who’s arguing?” I asked them.
    “The soldiers . They saved us, but can’t seem to make a decision as to where we go from here.” The girl rolled her eyes.
    I guessed that the soldiers were all the same rank. Even in a zombie war, a solider would respect their chain of command. No leader, no clear decision maker.
    “What are your names?” I asked.
    “I’m Kylie, and this is Paul.”
    Paul nodded at me—the strong, silent type.
    “I’m Britannia. I came to rescue you.”
    “How come you’re tied to a chair then?” asked Paul—the strong, sarcastic type.
    “I got shot.”
    “Yeah, you’re still alive though. But the way you killed those zombies.” Kylie looked thoughtful.
    “Exactly, I killed the zombies that were going to eat you. You’d think you’d be slightly more appreciative.”
    The argument suddenly stopped, and two soldiers entered the room. I hung my head, so my blue curls hid my face—and the fact I was awake.
    “You kids been keeping watch?” asked one in a thick American accent.
    “Of course, Private Green,” Kylie said.
    Private! I’d been shot by a private! I’d been shot before, of course, but my list of shooters included a captain, a marshal, and a lord. I’d also been stabbed through the heart by the King of England, although that was another story.
    “The prisoner hasn’t come …back to life?”
    He thought I was a zombie.
    “Nope.” Why would Kylie lie?
    “Okay, then. We’re going to do a security sweep. There’s a candy machine over there.”
    “She wasn’t a zombie, Green,” said the other. “You didn’t have to shoot her. She saved us.”
    Finally, at least one was the voice of reason. I swung a curl slightly out of the way, so I could identify the one who shot me. He was average, held his gun too tight, and didn’t have a spot of blood on his uniform. The other was …Langdon! Oh, my God, it was him! How could he be here, now? He was just as I remembered him, right down to his half smile and mostly green  hazel eyes.
    I forced my eyes back down and listened as their footsteps got fainter.
    “You can look up now,” Kylie said.
    “What are you?” Paul asked.
    “I’m here to protect you,” I robotically muttered in response.
    Langdon! It was him. I’d found him again at last!
    “Should we untie her?” Kylie asked Paul.
    I stood from the chair, the ropes ripping away from me. It was like I’d been tied up with tissue paper—annoying and uncomfortable, but easily broken. The children scurried away from me. I shifted my ribcage slightly. The bullet was lodged in my heart, so I turned from the kids, dug my hand in, and pulled it out. I felt no pain, only instant relief as the organ began to heal itself. Useless as it was, my heart still took up room in my chest. My T-shirt was ruined , though, so I scanned the shop and found a Union Jack kid’s shirt left over from the 2012 Olympics’ “anything British should sell” marketing campaign. I swapped shirts and rolled my shoulders to stretch out my muscles.
    The museum was a stunning place, but it would be hard to defend. Another determined zombie mob and it would be strewn with fresh blood.
    I knelt down in front of Kylie and Paul.
    “Okay, here’s the deal. I’m different. I’m trained to kill zombies and protect people like you. I have a safe place for wards, and we need to get there sooner rather than later. I need you to grab bags and stuff them with as many supplies from this shop as you can. We’re then