Free A Single Girl's Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse by JT Clay Page A

out of the Yowie bus, shivering, grumbling and stepping on one another’s toes. “Hello?” Angela called. “Is anyone there?”
    Darkness swallowed her words.
    â€œI can’t see the other van,” Tinkabella said.
    â€œWe could call,” said Q. “Maybe they got lost.”
    â€œThey won’t have a phone,” said Rabbit. “We’re on retreat.”
    â€œThere’s a light up there,” Q said, pointing to a cabin half a mile up the slope. It was an eerie construction, dwarfing the pale trees around it. “There’s not much of a track though. We’ll have to bash it.”
    Rabbit, Angela and Q were volunteered to check out the cabin while the others stayed by the bus, except for Pious Kate, who remained asleep inside it. They fought their way up the hill through the scrub. When they were a hundred feet away from the cabin, Q worked out why it looked so strange.
    â€œIt’s got an upstairs level,” she said. “Why would anyone build two stories out here?”
    â€œTo keep their distance from the bodies in the basement?” Angela said, puffing. “Anyone who chooses to live out here cannot be trusted.”
    â€œWhat is this place?” Q said from her position in the lead.
    â€œA piece of paradise,” Rabbit said. “Off the grid, out of range and in the bush.”
    â€œTwo days’ stumble from the nearest population center, next to a creek and bang in the middle of a mountain range,” Q said, piecing together the terrain they’d driven through.
    â€œAmazing biodiversity,” Rabbit said. “They’re still discovering prehistoric plants in here.”
    â€œ Good hunting, poor access and a secure water source,” Q said.
    â€œIt’s perfect,” they said in unison.
    â€œGuys?” Angela cut in. They had arrived at the cabin and they were not alone.
    A man stood inside, silhouetted against the window. He was enormous, at least six-foot-four and almost as broad, with a huge belly. He held something long and thin. Q couldn’t see it clearly. The light went out and the man disappeared.
    â€œWhat’s he holding?” Angela said. “A club? A gun?”
    Q motioned the others to be quiet, switched off her head torch and tried to restore her night vision. She heard the soft steps of a large man walking quietly. She crept into an intercept position and dropped to the ground to wait.
    â€œOr maybe it’s the shin bone from something he wooed, killed and ate?” Angela said.
    A gas lamp sprang into life a foot from where Q crouched. The man loomed over her. She tensed.
    â€œHi!” said Rabbit. He held out his right hand for the man to shake. “You must be the caretaker. We just arrived. Have you seen our friends?”
    â€œOr eaten them?” Angela said under her breath.
    Rabbit continued. “You’re welcome to come join us for some supper and songs if you’d like.”
    The man looked Rabbit down and down, which few people were tall enough to do, and summed up in one word his hatred of everything that was wrong with the world and the reason he had chosen to live outside of it: “Hippies!” He spat, turned and went inside. A blind was pulled down over the window.
    â€œThat’s cool,” Rabbit called out. “We’ll show ourselves around. Be sure to let us know if we’re too loud.” They walked back down the hill.
    â€œThat guy was bad news,” Angela said. “Did you see his face? There was something wrong with him.”
    â€œI thought he looked sad,” said Rabbit. “Let’s go unpack and get some grub.”
    â€œPlease don’t mean that literally,” Q said.
    â€œYou’re not hungry?” Rabbit asked.
    â€œOnly if you feed your guests like you feed your bus.”

Chapter Eleven
    One hut. Three beds. No way out.
    â€œArm wrestle for top bunk!” Q said. She threw her pack to the