Free Life After The Undead (Book 2): Death to the Undead by Pembroke Sinclair Page B

Instead, they waited. It gave us enough time to get out and to safety. Well, relative safety. At least the workers had a better chance against zombies than they did against rocket launchers and helicopters.
    As with everything, luck eventually runs out.
    Obviously, our supply was getting low. But that didn’t mean we could give up. As much as I wanted to, as much as I wanted to tell Quinn I was done and wait for him at the ranch, I knew I couldn’t. I knew my conscience would get the better of me. I couldn’t live with that decision. I had to stick it out, see it to the end. Even if the end meant death. At least I would have tried. No one could fault me for that.
    I stood from the bed and shuffled to the door. I untwisted the tie. I grunted and struggled against the metal, gritting my teeth. It wasn’t easy doing it one handed, but I didn’t want to wake Quinn. He needed to sleep. He needed to collect his thoughts. I finally got it undone and headed to the admissions desk. I opened the duffel bag and pulled out some painkillers and a bottle of water. I tilted my head back to swallow and stared at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, I wondered what we were going to do next. The first priority was to take out Florida, but how were we going to do it? We were grossly outnumbered and out technologized. The one thing we did have was determination, and that won many wars. I hoped it was enough.
    A slapping sound, like bare feet on linoleum, resounded through the room. I turned, expecting to see Quinn. No one was there. I walked to his cell and peered through the bars. He still lay on the bed, his back toward me. I shrugged and headed back to the desk. The sound came again, followed by a rustling. Confusion flowed through me as I looked around the room. Where was that sound coming from? The door was still shut, locked up tight. I knew the sound wasn’t coming from my room. It had to be coming from Quinn’s. What else could it be? I took another drink of my water. The slapping sounded again, a little louder, and I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to my left. I looked on the floor, at the corner of the admission’s desk. The water flew out of my mouth. I wanted to scream, but the sound caught in my throat.
    A zombie crawled across the floor. It was almost completely decomposed. The skin on her face was gray and flaking, the skull poking through in several areas. Her arms were bones, with the exception of the hand, which was still covered in a glove of skin. It hissed at me and increased its effort to pull itself forward. I took a step to the side and noticed it was missing a leg. I reached from my gun. Crap! I left my holster in my room. I turned to get it when a moan echoed through the room. I froze. Glancing over my shoulder and the desk, I noticed another creature climbing through the emergency hatch. He was in better shape than the other, but his skin was yellowed and his clothes almost completely ripped off. I could see his torso, a hole ripped through his chest. If his heart had been beating, I would have seen it.
    “Quinn!” I screamed and headed to my cell. I grabbed my gun and went back into the main room.
    I took out the man first. He wasn’t the closest, but he was the bigger threat. He could move faster than the woman on the floor. The bang of the gun made my ears ring instantly after I fired the shot, but I couldn’t worry about it. It was better to be deaf than consumed alive.
    The bullet hit the guy above the right temple. His head jerked back and he fell down the ladder. I turned my attention to the woman. She was a few steps in front of me, still hissing and grabbing for my legs. The bullet hit her in the top of the head. Brain, bone, and ichor sprayed into my face.
    “Krista!” Quinn’s voice called behind me.
    I didn’t have time to turn around. I ran to the trap door and looked down the hole. Several zombies were clambering over their fallen brother, trying to negotiate the ladder. I