Free Machines of the Dead by David Bernstein

resembled a bite mark. The wound was open and bleeding. Jack’s heart jumped. If it was bleeding, Zaun was still alive.
    He approached his friend’s body, standing about three feet away, and nudged it with the bat.
    Zaun moaned, causing Jack to flinch.
    “Zaun? Zaun?” No answer, just another moan.
    Jack drew close to the body, and knelt down, rolling his friend over onto his back, cringing at what he saw.
    Zaun’s face was almost colorless, his eyes sunken in, cheek bones revealed. For a moment, Jack was looking at his wife.
    “Shit,” he said, softly.
    Zaun opened his eyes, lids fluttering for a moment. “Jack?” 
    “Yeah, it’s me.”
    “Was wondering when you’d be . . . back.”
    “What happened to you? Were you bit?”
    Zaun’s head fell to the side. He had passed out.
    Jack shook him. “Zaun? Zaun?” No response. Looking at the wound up close, he really couldn’t tell if it was a bite wound or not, as Zaun’s body was riddled with cuts and bruises. But by the look of his friend, the guy had been infected.
    “Screw it,” Jack said, standing. He pulled out his Taser , pointed it at Zaun’s still-moving stomach, and pulled the trigger.
    Zaun let out a gasp . H is body went rigid , and trembled, as 50,000 volts coursed through his system. After a few seconds, the charge died and Zaun’s body went slack. Jack squatted and checked for a pulse. Nothing. He grabbed Zaun’s wrist, checked there: nothing. Damn, the shock must have been too much for his depleted body.
    Jack began CPR, performing chest compressions and mouth to mouth. He checked Zaun’s pulse again, but felt nothing except cool skin. “I’m not giving up on you,” he said, then pulled the darts out of Zaun’s stomach. He tossed them aside and reloaded the Taser with a new charge. Standing up, Jack aimed the gun at Zaun’s sternum and fired the weapon. Zaun’s body stiffened, then went slack again.
    Bending down, he checked his friend for a pulse again. This time Zaun had one. His friend was alive. Pulling the darts out, Jack breathed a sigh of relief.
     

Chapter 11
     
    After placing Zaun in bed, Jack went over to the bedroom windows and raised the blinds, allowing sunlight to illuminate the dreary room, and to his delight, revealed a lost treasure. On the floor, opposite side of the bed where Zaun had been lying, were his guns and ammo boxes.
    Like a kid on Christmas morning, Jack sat on the floor, took the keys from his pocket, and opened the first lockbox. Lifting the lid, he saw the Sig Sauer P226 inside. Not wanting to be unarmed a moment longer, he removed the trigger guard, then opened the ammo box , an army green, .30 caliber, M19A1 container he picked up at an army-navy store , grabbed a box of 9 mm bullets, and loaded the fifteen round clip. After popping the clip in, he gently racked the slide and was ready for business. Flipping the safety on, he placed the weapon down, eager to see the next gift.
    He opened the box containing his .45, a Smith and Wesson 1911 handgun. After removing the trigger guard, he loaded the eight round clip and drew the slide back before setting the safety switch to the on position. Jack couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so powerful, so invincible, so good. Then he did remember, and it had nothing to do with firearms. The last time he had felt this good was when he and Jess were sitting on the couch, watching television, his arms wrapped around her. Suddenly , the ecstatic feeling he had was gone.
    He picked up both handguns like the hero in some action flick, and admired them. A spark of anger ignited within him, warming his soul with hate. He wished he could shoot each individual bot, slowly making each one suffer as he destroyed them all. But the best he could do was help the living, and send the animated dead back to the grave.
    He grabbed the bag holding his Remington .30-06, unlocked the trigger guard and had the weapon loaded and ready to go within moments. Most likely,