Free Zomb-Pocalypse 3 by Megan Berry Page B

coat off, but I know I’ll
just have to carry it, and it will get in the way if I have to run or fight. I
decide to suck it up, complaining about it will just make me look weak in front
of Silas and my dad.
    “Holy shit,” I hear
Silas mutter, and I look up from the road. I’d been daydreaming and staring
down at my feet, more than I should. I look up and my heart leaps into my
throat. Dad crowds in closer to me, and I feel myself shrink up a little in
fear. I wish I could shrink up completely, until I’m invisible. An enormous
horde of zombies has just crested the top of the hill ahead of us. They see us
as soon as we see them, and they let out a collective moan of excitement.
    “It’s time to
run,” Silas says, and I’m reminded of the horde we ran from for hours before we
were rescued by a Camp Freedom chopper. The chances of lucking out like that
again are slim, and I know it. I start running, following Silas as we get off
the road and head into the nearby field. If we keep going, we will run into the
zombies; if we turn back, we will head back into town. The zombies are still
far enough away, and we have a decent head start, so the bumpy terrain might
actually work to our advantage.
    “There’s gotta be
something in those trees over there,” Silas says, pointing to a large group of
trees half a mile away. I would usually question him, but from this distance I
can see the driveway that separates from the road and disappears into the
trees.
    I’m panting by the
time we get close enough to see the old iron fence that surrounds the lot. “Oh
no,” I say as I stop running and stand staring uncertainly at the cemetery.
    Silas ignores my
outburst and keeps running towards it. My dad at least stops and looks back at
me. “Come on, Jane,” he calls, staring back at the large number of zombies that
have fallen behind but will still be on top of us within the next ten minutes
or so.
    “Silas,” I hiss as
I run to catch up, and Silas actually stops and looks back at me.
    “What?” he asks,
sounding annoyed.
    “This is a
graveyard,” I point out the obvious, like that should explain why we shouldn’t
go in.
    “Exactly,” Silas
agrees. “And you know what that means?” he asks me, and I have to shake my
head.
    “No,” my dad and I
answer as one.
    “Everyone in here
is the good kind of dead,” Silas snaps as he motions for me to get moving.
“Come on.” I try and leave my reservations at the gate as we walk in and are
confronted with tidy rows of gravestone markers. I stare hard at them, but none
of the earth looks disturbed, and I relax a little—maybe the dead rising from
the grave just happens in the movies—and I’m grateful. The smell hits us then,
and the overwhelming buzz of thousands of flies.
    “What is that?” I
yelp, forgetting about the horde behind us in the heat of the moment. I cover
my nose with my sleeve to keep from gagging. Silas doesn’t answer but he creeps
forward towards a large hole that’s been dug in the ground, and even he has to
cover his nose.
    “It’s a mass
grave,” my dad says as we stare down at the bodies that fill the enormous pit.
“They must’ve been dumping the infected out here to try and contain the
situation.” I gag as I look out over the sea of mottled gray faces, rotting and
splitting in the sun.
    “Let’s get out of
here,” I say, barely containing my vomit. Silas and my dad stubbornly shake
their heads.
    “We don’t have a
lot of time, we need to find somewhere to hide,” Silas answers for them both as
he turns and starts scanning the area. There is a small wooden garden shed
where the groundskeeper probably kept his supplies, but Silas dismisses it. “It
wouldn’t hold up against that many,” he says, and my dad nods in agreement.
    “What about one of
those concrete mausoleums?” my dad points out, and I follow his finger to the
back of the graveyard where there are small concrete buildings in a row. They
look like mini houses. Silas