Free Z-Risen (Book 1): Outbreak by Timothy W. Long Page A

stopped in my tracks. He did something with his NVG’s and then motioned for me to advance.
    I crept around the corner and stopped as well.
    Joel signaled for me to creep forward, then stopped me when I was a few feet away. He turned and put his fingers to his lips. Joel slipped the NVG’s off his head and handed them to me. I slid my handgun into the holster, took the glasses and slipped them over my head. He had his eyes closed but pointed at the garage. Curious about what the hell he wanted to show me, I moved toward it in the half crouch I’d seen him pull off many times. He made it look easy but I was a lot bigger. Shit was not easy.
    The world jumped to life in hues and shades of green. The house was a single story rambler with the remains of a broken fence scattered all over the lawn. The front door hung off its hinges and a corpse lay on the small concrete patio. Even in the pale light of the moon, I could tell that his form had been torn to shreds. A rifle lay next to him. Other bodies littered the patio. It appeared the guy had done his best to fend for his home, but in the end, the Z’s got him.
    The garage door was stuck half -open but that wasn't what made me freeze in my tracks. It was the sounds.
    If I didn't know any better I’d have guessed there was some kind of feast underway in the garage. Maybe a barbecue in San Diego. Just another night for some civilian (or more likely, military) family.
    What I saw was anything but.
    I lowered myself to a crouch and moved my head around the corner of the house. The walls were stacked with boxes and some old furniture had been pushed into corners. A bike hung from the ceiling. That’s where “normal” ended.
    In the center of the room sat four figures. They were dressed in rags and slicked with something wet ; even with the NVG’s, I knew it was blood. One gazed up at the wall from its meal. I stifled a gasp when I realized the Z had been chewing on his own fingers. One of the four was an overweight woman missing most of her clothes. She sat and gibbered to herself while also chewing on the ends of her fingers. I don’t mean nibbled, either. She had literally devoured them. A couple of teens rounded out the family from hell.
    It was so absurd that all I wanted to do was go in and shoot each one in the damn head.
    I ducked back around the corner and shrugged my shoulders at Joel. He leaned in close.
    “That shit is fucked up,” he whispered.
    I dragged my finger across my neck and shrugged again. Joel shook his head.
    He motioned toward my head so I took the NVG’s off and handed them over. As Joel grasped them, I heard someone approach from the other side of the house. I dropped to a crouch while Joel fumbled with the glasses.
    A figure entered the yard from the west side and was doing nothing to mask his sounds. With the glasses off it took a few seconds to adjust to the natural light of the moon. I drew the Colt M45A1 as quietly as possible, lifted it with two hands, and aimed.
    The person went to the corpse in the middle of the yard and picked up the rifle. They looked it over then felt around in the corpse’s pockets and came up with shells. The sound of them being loaded into the shotgun was like firecrackers popping in the still of night.
    Joel crouched next to the side of the house and aimed the assault rifle. Shit! Shit! Shit! If we got into a firefight with someone , the Z’s would be here in a heartbeat.
    I moved to his side and looked around the corner. The person lifted the gun and came toward us. Before we could react , the person walked into the garage and the shotgun sounded like a cannon blast. The gun was pumped and boomed again. Feet scrambled on concrete and the form backed out in a hurry. There were three of them on the person, who got off one more shot.
    “Fuckers! You killed my family!” she screamed. Yeah – she.
    She backed up a few more steps and racked another shell into the gun . She fired but ended up clipping one of the