Free Last Rites by Kim Paffenroth Page B

hurt.”
    “Yeah, that’s true.” Well, Rachel would wait and see about that. They’d have to find out more about this city and what went on here before they went around demanding to have their zombies back. There might be rules about that. And Truman and Lucy might be okay, wherever they were. This place seemed too nice to leave without considering everything.
    Rachel settled back down into the pillows. Damn, those were really soft, too. What the heck did they fill them with to make them feel that good, that luxurious?
    She sighed. “I guess I better rest some more. Just that little bit of talking got me tired.”
    “Yeah, they said you’d need to rest a lot before you were all the way better.”
    Rachel closed her eyes and smiled. “I bet they have hot water here. I mean really hot water that doesn’t run out.”
    “Yeah, I guess,” she heard Will say as she drifted off. “Probably.”
    “Hmm, a hot bath is going to be so nice. I haven’t had one in forever.” Rachel thought of the water caressing her body, the warmth soothing her mind. Oh my God—maybe even bubbles. That’d almost be too much to hope for, but if they had rooms as clean as this, they might have any luxury she could think of. Yes, this place definitely needed more investigation before they went traipsing back into the malaria-infested wilderness.

Chapter 11: Truman

    The two living men led Truman away. He couldn’t see where Lucy had gone. He knew she could take care of herself—much better than he could, most likely—but it was just a man’s instincts to protect the woman. The living took that away from him, and that made him ashamed—and angry at Will for getting them into this mess.
    Lucy had been right about the other people. He’d told her everything would work out, but she’d been right to mistrust them. They didn’t deserve trust, and they certainly didn’t deserve all the comfort and safety of this place. They used a cattle prod on people—how much more barbaric could they get? Well, he’d probably find out soon enough.
    And if they were going to treat him and Lucy like animals, maybe they’d get what they deserved: maybe some dead people would make them into food. Truman had never entertained or enjoyed that thought until he saw Lucy on the ground, writhing from their cruelty. Now he longed for it with every step he took.
    The younger man, Terry, held the pole attached to his neck. The taller one, Bart, came up and walked beside Truman, who kept his gaze down.
    Bart gave Truman a shove with the stock of the shotgun. “Hey,” he said to Terry. “That crazy guy from the hills said he was smart. He don’t look so smart.”
    Truman kept walking.
    “Leave him alone, Bart,” Terry said. The kid didn’t seem quite so bad. “He’s just dead. We’ll all be like him someday.”
    “Not me,” Bart said. “I’ll eat a bullet first. Not gonna walk around like this bag of shit.” He stuck the business end of the shotgun in Truman’s face this time. “Right, Mister Smart Zombie? You’re nothing but a bag of shit, aren’t you? Shit for brains, is more like it. What the hell did that guy want with you, anyway? Were you his dad or something? Fuck—people got to shoot their own parents all the time. He should know better than to keep your sorry ass around.”
    “Stop it, Bart,” Terry said more plaintively. “He can’t help it. It’s just how they are.”
    “Well, I can’t help how I am, either. And I can’t help he’s a bag a shit. What’re they gonna do with him at the Dead End, anyway?”
    “I don’t know. Put him in a tank full of sharks and have him fight them. I remember seeing that when I was younger. You remember that?”
    Bart laughed. “Oh hell, yeah! That was fun. If the dead dude got a hold of one shark and bit into it so it’d bleed, the others would attack it and he’d be safe. If he figured that out in time. I don’t know if this one’s smart enough to do that.” Bart smiled and looked