Free Dead Sea by Brian Keene Page A

shrieking sound, leaving furrows in the paint.
        We huddled together on the SUV's roof as the pack surrounded the vehicle. My throat burned. 1 tried to work up some saliva so I could talk.
        "What-what do we do now?" Tasha asked.
        "I don't know."
        "Can they get up here?"
        "I don't think so. We're safe."
        "How are we gonna get away?"
        "I don't know, damn it. Let me think."
        The dogs attempted a few more leaps and then gave up. Refusing to leave, they sat back on their haunches and waited. Their dead, black eyes never left us. Death was patient. Desperate, I examined the shotgun, trying to figure out what was wrong with it. I didn't know if I was out of ammo or if it was jammed or what, and like 1 said earlier, I didn't have much experience with guns until the robbery.
        "Can you fix it?" Malik asked.
        "I don't think so," I admitted. "But I can still bash their goddamn brains in with it."
        Tasha watched the pack with wide, terrified eyes. "Are you sure they can't get up here?"
        "I don't think so. We're okay for now."
        "But how are we gonna get away from them?"
        "Maybe they'll lose interest in us," I said. "Go off and find an easier meal. Or somebody might show up and help us."
        "What about the fires?" Malik asked.
        I didn't have an answer for that. The flames leapt from building to building, turning night into day. The kids had both lost their washcloths and their faces were dirty with soot. I wondered if smoke inhalation would kill us before the zombies did.
        A dead man emerged from a burning bookstore. His shirt sleeve was on fire. As we watched, the flames engulfed the creature's entire body, spreading from its arm to its head and chest, and finally its legs. The corpse kept walking until its brain boiled. Then it collapsed in the street.
        Several more zombies appeared from farther down the block. One was missing a leg and it crawled along the sidewalk, pulling itself by its hands. Its fingernails were gone and the tips of its fingers had split open like squashed grapes. Another one didn't even look dead. Could have just been a pizza delivery man out for a stroll, but its slow-moving, jerky gait was a giveaway. Seeing us up on the roof of the SUV the zombies lurched toward us. The undead dogs didn't acknowledge these new arrivals. They simply kept watching, drool dripping from their jowls.
        When I heard the shot, 1 didn't think much of it at first. Figured it was just more of the same from the main battle. But then I noticed that one of the creatures had fallen over face-first onto the pavement. It jittered and then lay still. A second later there was another shot, and one of the dog's heads blew apart. One of its pointed ears careened through the air and skull fragments clattered onto the street. A third shot slammed into the side of the SUV, causing all three of us to gasp. The vehicle rocked gently back and forth. With the fourth shot, the shooter found his mark again, and another dog collapsed.
        "Where's it coming from?" Malik glanced around.
        "I don't know." I studied the buildings and rooftops. It was hard to see any gunfire flashes because of all the smoke and fire. When the fifth shot came, I followed the sound, and on the sixth, I spotted the shooter. I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, but they were crouched down between a mailbox and some newspaper vendor boxes on the corner. Slowly, the person stood upright and walked toward us, still firing. It was a man, and as he got closer, I could make out the details. Caucasian. Good-looking guy. What some of my friends would call a "bear." Not my type, but handsome just the same, despite the fact that he'd been living the same way we had-without a shower or a clean change of clothes. He appeared to be in his early forties but in good shape, well over six feet tall, and wearing blue jeans and a leather