Free Dying Days 3 by Armand Rosamilia Page A

onto the beach and approach from the Oceanside, intent on stealing or killing? Bri needed to find out.
    She slouched down and began running next to the barrier, watching for zombies and the biker.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Fifteen
     
     
    Jeff was tired. This trip had been a bust, so far. The road past the Route 206 turnoff was blocked with rusting cars and fallen telephone poles. He'd pulled into a former sports bar called Redfrogs and slept under a corner booth, near the bathrooms, one eye open. Nothing had disturbed him but there was nothing left in the place as far as food or anything of value.
    Now, in the early morning sunshine, he was heading back south empty-handed. His boss would be pissed, but at least he'd mapped out this far north in his head. Tomorrow, he would head west again, up I-4 into Orlando, and see if there was anyone he'd missed.
    He pulled into the police station and siphoned gas from one of the police cruisers, going through the busted front door when the bike was full. There was nothing left inside. It looked like the counters had been pulled out of the building, leaving an empty shell with some dark stains on the white tile floor.
    If luck was on his side, a gun locker would still be locked and hidden deep in the building, but the only lockers he saw had been smashed to pieces and emptied many months ago.
    Jeff was no stranger to guns. He'd been a corrections officer for nearly twenty years, and was considered one of the best. His take-no-shit attitude gave him much respect with the inmates and also his fellow officers. He was liked, but you knew not to fuck with him. He'd chat with you during roll call or when he was taking you from one area of the prison to the next, but step out of line and he'd be the first to put you back in your proper place. It was as simple as that.
    He was running out of ammo. Jeff didn't want to waste time and energy in hand to hand combat, especially when a bullet to the head ended the fight quickly. Beating a zombie with a baseball bat was tiring; it took three or four swings to get it down, and another couple to crush the rest of the skull so it stopped moving. You couldn't wade into a horde of them and expect to get out alive. The sheer numbers and fatigue would stop you.
    Right now, he was tired of riding. He never thought he'd ever say it, but there was never any cruise time. He could pretend, but his eyes darted back and forth as he rode, waiting for the next attack. Jeff had small moments where he pretended he was free and in command of his life, but he was already a dead man. He just didn’t want to be an undead one.
    The parking lot was empty so he parked the Harley dead center in the lot so nothing could walk up on him without plenty of warning. The sounds of the engine would draw them for miles, but he didn't care right now. Would it be so bad if he was killed? It would suck being bitten, but long-term what the fuck was he doing?
    A glance at the bridge and he saw two zombies heading his way, but, they were in such bad shape, it would take them an hour to get here. Jeff toyed with the idea of relaxing and seeing how close he could let them get near him before he bashed their brains in. He could tear up the wooden pathways and jam the broken pieces into their eyes.
    He saw the living person, slumped down and trying to hide while moving toward him, and he smiled. Even from this distance, he could tell it was a younger person, and might even be a chick. What was she doing out here, all alone? Or was she?
    Jeff casually grabbed his weapons off the Harley and headed across the parking lot to the entrance to the wooden path, which would obviously lead him to the beach. He walked fast but didn't act like he was in a hurry or like he had any care in the world.
    Once he got around the bend and a dune naturally blocked his view, he hopped over the rail and slid down the dune,