Free Rotting to the Core (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 2) by S.P. Durnin Page A

came
slowly into focus. She could feel ash ground into the soil under
her feet. The breeze ruffled her short hair sending blue strands
back away from her face. She felt warmth streaming from Jake's skin
nearby, like radiation from a rogue sun. Kat heard something small
and furry scamper from its hiding place perhaps forty yards away.
Lifting her head slightly, her nostrils detected the faint but
noticeable smell of worn clothing left unwashed on a body for far
too long. Licking her lips, Cho picked up the distinctive taste
gunpowder. That could've been residue left on her or Jake's
clothing from their firefight with a group of raiders prior, but
she didn't think so. Their 'flavor', if that was the correct
phrase, would have been much clearer, sharper. This tasted old and
stale, almost flat. Letting her eyes relax and lose focus, Cho
allowed them to drift about seeking anomalies.
    Yep. She began to see subtle hints that
someone was about, or had been not long before. There, slight
bending of the grass leading around the far edge of a nearby
trailer husk. There, dust had been kicked up by a boot or shoe,
coating the front of a burned doorstep. Below that, partially
obscured in the small, overgrown front yard, half a print, likely
from the same boot. Over there, a dry, sticky smear where someone
had attempted to open a can of pears without a can opener. The
dented, leaking can itself lay not far beyond. Finally, nearly
sixty yards distant, a seared, old Ford conversion van sat
half-melted to the road. What tripped the danger sensor hardwired
in Kat's brain, which sat just behind the 'bullshit-o-meter' and
above the 'chocolate detector', was the noticeable lack of dust on
the van's sliding side door. Everything else in the fire's path
displayed a thin layer of gritty ash, due to the intense heat
crisping the surface. The van's door had what Kat could make out
from that distance, hand-prints in the grime.
    Pulling her awareness back in, she motioned
for Jake to scoot closer. Once he could see around the corner, Kat
pointed at the van. She made sure to keep her movements slow and
below the line of sight for anyone who might be watching from the
junked vehicle. “I'm thinking that would make a great hidey-hole to
surprise unsuspecting survivors. Or occasional zombies, for that
matter. There's a reason all the creepers had them before the
zombies started rising. All sorts of nasty possibilities.”
    “If you make a 'Want some candy, little
girl?' joke, I am going to spank you,” Jake promised.
    “Never crossed my mind,” Cho said loftily.
“What's your take on it?”
    Jake peered around the mobile home, using its
overturned propane tank to keep hidden. “No cover to speak of along
the road, lots of tight spots between what's left of the trailers,
plenty of room for somebody to hide given half a chance and half a
brain.”
    “Yeah. Makes me want to backtrack and brave
running into zombies to find another way around.” Kat nodded and
slid back around the corner. “What say we do just that?”
    Jake didn't answer, so she tried again.
    “Come on, stud. Time to make tracks.”
    That didn't elicit a response either.
    “Hey, I have an idea!” Kat switched tactics.
“Let's head back to that Circle K we passed a few blocks ago, crack
open a six-pack of Angry Orchard, lock ourselves in the cooler, get
snookered—”
    Mmh.” Jake grunted, still focused on the view
down the street.
    “I'll strip down and give you a lap-dance,
wearing nothing but some whip cream in the shape of a bikini,” Kat
went on.
    “Uh-huh.”
    “-Then we'll have the hottest, most insanely
mind-blowing sex in all of human history-”
    “Right.” Jake nodded, considering their
options.
    “Just before we fly our rainbow-farting
unicorn into space and blow up the Death Star,” Kat finished with a
straight face.
    “Sounds g… Wait, what?” Jake frowned. “Death
Star?”
    Kat shook her head. “Out of all that, what
actually registers in your brain is