Free Machines of the Dead 3 by David Bernstein

property having a slight incline to it, and found the snow-covered set of stairs that led up to the front door. Finding it locked, Jack wrapped his knuckles on the door. “Sara? Are you in there? It’s Jack.” He knocked again. With no answer, he and the others went around to the back and tried the door there, but it was locked too. Then he saw that one of the den's windows, the room at semi-basement level, had been boarded over.
    Movement sounded from the bushes behind them. Jack spun around, M4 ready, and saw a zombie shambling toward them. The knee-deep snow greatly slowed its movement. Zaun pulled his sword and said, “I got it.”
    Jack and Maria pried off the piece of plywood from the window.
    Darkness filled the den within, and Jack hoped not to smell the putridness of rotting flesh. Instead, he smelled vanilla and felt warm air fall over him. Excited, he called out. “Sara, it’s Jack. Are you in there?” 
    The sound of a shotgun being cocked echoed in his ears a moment before he was staring into the barrel of one. “I’d advise you to move on, stranger,” a voice said from the darkness.
    Jack didn’t recognize the voice as Carl’s, but asked if it was him anyway.
    “No Carl here, young man. Just us armed men.”
    “I don’t want any trouble,” Jack said, seeing Maria creeping along the side of the house, making her way to a window. “I’m just looking for my sister, Sara Warren. She lives here.”
    “No one here by that name now. In case you haven’t noticed, things have gone and changed quite drastically around here. Found this house after mine burned down. Claimed it as my own, considering it was empty and all.”
    The man sounded older and had said he was one of a group of armed men. But Jack didn’t think so, especially after hearing him say he had claimed the house as his own, as in singular. 
    “Okay, my friend,” Jack said and backed away, hands up. The M4 hanging off his shoulder slipped and he went to catch it.
    The man’s shotgun fired, a flash of light exploding from the darkness.
    Jack was thrown backward, pain wracking his side.
    Maria returned fire, shattering the glass window adjacent to the one that had been boarded over. A cry from inside the house rang out. Then, another blast from the shotgun sounded.
    Jack glanced down at himself and saw a huge hole in his jacket. The snow was speckled with crimson, feathers floating toward the ground like soap bubbles.
    “Shit,” he said, going numb. 
    Zaun rushed over and dragged him to safety.
    Maria tossed a flashbang grenade into the house and covered her ears. 
    A few seconds later, the bomb went off and a flash of light brightened the darkened room for an instant. 
    “How’s Jack?” she asked.
    “I . . . don’t know,” Zaun said.
    The snow around Jack was further reddening.
    “Good thing I come equipped with my own healing system,” Jack said, coughing up blood.
    “You weren’t supposed to be the one who gets hurt,” Zaun said. “Remember? Just in case?”
    “Guess we’ll find out what the bots do this time . . . If I’m savable.” He tried to stay awake, to hold on, but suddenly his body teemed with unbelievable pain, as if his insides were being shredded, and he passed out.

Chapter 12
     
    “How is he?” Maria asked, keeping an eye on the blown out window.
    “Looks bad,” Zaun said.
    Knowing Jack would need immediate shelter and food, the house was a must have. If someone—maybe someone's —was holing up inside, that meant it was most likely stocked with supplies, including food. Whether or not it was worth risking their lives was another question, but based on what just happened, she didn’t think a group of armed hostiles were inside. 
    Maria headed over to the back door, blew its handle out, then kicked it open. She waited for gunfire from whoever was inside, but none came. “Drag Jack over here,” she called to Zaun, and he did, leaving behind a trail of bloody snow. 
    “We clear the house,