Free The Undead World (Book 6): The Apocalypse Exile (War of The Undead) by Peter Meredith

crippled zombies, however he kept the engine pounding. Once he got past the tremendous mound, he was able to pick up speed and he quickly turned onto the main road and was gone from sight.
    “Now it’s our turn,” Grey said, moving the stick through the gears. He knew he would need all the momentum he could get. Not only did he have to climb the mound, he had to have enough oomph to get Michael moving as well.
    The mound proved to be a speed-sapping obstacle. The truck went slower and slower as it crawled upward over the undead. Still, it reached Michael’s truck with enough of a surge that it should have sent it onward, but there was only a tremendous crash and then both trucks settled deeper into the mound of flesh.
    “Son of a bitch!” Grey cursed. “He never turned his wheel! Wait here.”
    Almost hidden by the swelling and the bruising was Neil’s look of confusion. “Wait here? Where would I go? Where do you think you’re going?”
    “Out for a stroll,” Grey said. It sounded sarcastic but Neil’s jaw dropped when Grey took the M4 from his hand and opened the door. Neil started to say something, only Grey had shut the door and was climbing onto the hood of the great truck. He took three steps and leapt across to the bed of Michael’s truck—the back gate was slick with blood, thankfully all of it was black.
    The renegades reached out for him, some to steady him, others to pull him into the bed. There were eighteen people in the cramped bed and they all began babbling and pointing at once. “Let go!” he demanded, slapping at the hands on him. “I have to get up front.”
    “You can’t,” one of them said. Compared to the bright sky, it was dim in the back of the truck and Grey couldn’t make out who was talking. The person went on: “There’s no access door to the front.”
    He wanted to say: No shit , but he held back. “I know. I’m going up top.” He slung his rifle on his back, got a good grip of the bed frame and heaved himself up. Because Michael was still battling in vain to free his truck, Grey had to crawl to keep from pitching over the side. Seconds later he was at the front where the hood was covered in the undead pounding on the windshield or tearing at the metal of the truck
    The M4 was off his back in a flash and he swept them aside with blazing hot lead. He then leaned over the passenger side door and shot four of the beasts who were slowly dragging it open. He did the same with the driver’s side. He then knocked on the glass.
    “Hey,” Michael gushed as he rolled down his window. He was red in the face and there might have been tears in his eyes. Grey pretended not to notice as Michael started jabbering: “I’m so glad to see you. We’re just about as stuck as can get and there were these...”
    Angrily, Grey interrupted him. “Turn your damned wheels! They’re pointed right at the curb.”
    “Oh! I didn’t know. You can’t tell from up here, not with all the zombies. All I can see are...”
    There was no time for wasted words or wasted seconds and so Grey interrupted him once more: “I’m going to tap you again with my truck. Give it all the gas you got and then meet us up passed the trestle bridge.” Michael was saying something but Grey was already crawling back the way he had come. For him, it was just a hop, skip and a jump back to his truck, and after shooting a couple stiffs that had struggled up to the level of the door he climbed in and handed Neil the M4.
    “Hold on, it’s going to get bumpy,” he said, and then gave Deanna a wink. He couldn’t say why he had winked. He had meant for it to come across as light-hearted, but he was instantly sure it looked cocky instead. Embarrassed, he regretted it immediately. She only gave him a small and unreadable smile in return.
    Stifling another curse at his stupidity, he worked the truck into first gear and slid and skidded his way forward until the grill of his truck clubbed into the back bumper of