Free MZS: Boston: A Metropolitan Zombie Survivors Novella by K. D. McAdams Page B

accelerates.
    “Todd. In the nest. Don’t pull the trigger unless they block the road.”
    Todd disappears from the seat to my right.
    How can I help? The best, maybe only, way for me to help right now is to keep my shit together. A task that grows more difficult with every passing minute.
    How long do you have to spend fearing for your life before you get used to fearing for your life? I need to be scared; fear will help me survive. I also need to be able to calm down and feel safe. Balancing these two needs seems a herculean task.
    Cupcake bumps the zombie in the road with his fender as we pass by. It feels a little sadistic, but funny. Killing a human body should hold more weight; whoever it was used to be a son or a daughter. Now they’re nothing.
    Todd climbs back down from the machine gun turret. He sits in silence and looks out the side window.
    We’re all lost in thought.
    It’s been a long day and I haven’t even been up for five hours. I had sex, I think, drank some wine and a few beers but didn’t eat anything, went for a walk , and met up with some friends.
    Along the way , I killed more people than I can remember.
    Tears start streaming down my face. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand but it doesn’t help. My breathing gets shallow and pauses for a second. This is not keeping my shit together.
    I try and stifle the sobs that take over my body but I can’t. This isn’t me, this isn’t real. I was trying to grow up and make it on my own. Now I need these people. And they need me.
    It ’d not about having a nice car or eating at great restaurants. It’s about staying alive, literally. For what?
    The meaning of life has never really been my thing. I’ve always been more of a “one day at a time” kind of guy. The irony of that statement and my desire to curb unhealthy habits brushes past without hitting squarely.
    Figuring out the future was always something for tomorrow. Most of the time the answer to “what do I really want?” is a steak and cheese and a cold beer. I guess that means I’ve had a pretty sheltered life.
    If this can be fixed , what do I want to do afterward? Do I want to leave a mark on the world? I don’t know how to help people in a big picture sense. On the other hand, I wouldn’t want to waste an opportunity to make a difference.
    The conundrum of my future helps me fade off to sleep.

Chapter 12
     
     
    When the Humvee slows I wake up, grateful for the rest. I’m also grateful that I didn’t have to think about falling to sleep. The images that are stuck in my head will make it impossible to lie down and sleep the way I used to.
    “Morning princess ,” Todd says, with more than a little snark.
    I glance out the window my face was recently pressed against. The sun is setting; it’s the opposite of morning.
    “I was waiting for a kiss ,” I say, tossing him a wink.
    Nothing out the window looks familiar. More accurately , it all looks familiar, the generic suburbs of Boston. Old white houses, a town square with three churches, and a random monument.
    If we were doing what I am supposed to be doing, we would be looking for a house. My fiancée or my wife would be talking about the white picket fence she wants and how important a yard is for our future children.
    We would be traveling in a German sedan that we can’t really afford but the financing rate was too good to pass up. I would be wearing an actual suit instead of my jean tuxedo and the last wine I drank would have come from a bottle with an expensive label instead of a bag of plastic protected by a cardboard box.
    What we’re doing now is by no means fun. It helps me to see that the life I was searching for would not have been all shits and giggles either. Why do we have an age limit for wanting to hang out with your friends and have fun?
    To me that sounds like a better description of what you are supposed to be doing. Marriage, kids and a house are great, but not instead of being surrounded by a group of