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

Michael’s truck, crushing a number of zombies who were attempting to get at the renegades.
    Both machines roared and belched smoke into the sky as they ground slowly forward. Zombies surged at them with even more hungry desperation. Suddenly, Deanna’s door was pulled open and she reached out with both hands to shut it. She was red in the face and breathless from the struggle by the time she was able to close it again. “You better hurry,” she said. “I won’t be able to hold on for long.”
    “I can hold it for you,” Jillybean said. For the moment, at least, her eyes were the clear blue that marked her as free of the evil creature inside her.
    “No, honey,” Deanna said, grunting with the effort of holding the door closed. “It’s a lot harder than it looks.”
    Jillybean shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Watch.” The little girl leaned across Deanna’s struggling body, took hold of her seat belt, wrapped it once around the door handle and then looped it behind the passenger side head rest. “You can let go now.”
    Tentatively, Deanna released her grip. The door creaked open about three inches and wouldn’t go any further. The seat belt was tight as a bowstring. Deanna made a noise that suggested: Why didn’t I think of that? Jillybean then pointed at the gap and the claws reaching up through it and said: “If that opening makes you nervous, you can roll the window down part way and shoot the monster, that way you don’t have to open the door if you don’t wanna.”
    The hands could only reach so far, only half a foot or so. She was safely out of their reach. “I think it’s good the way it is, thanks,” Deanna said. “No need to waste bullets.”
    During this, Grey was bull-dogging his truck, mashing it against Michael’s without regard to the damage he was doing to the rear of the vehicle. The tail gate was crumpled and probably useless. Still, Grey pounded the truck, until it started moving on its own.
    When they had both slogged clear of the main throng of zombies and had turned back toward the trestle bridge and the zombies had lost their grip and fallen from the trucks, one by one, Grey broke out a rare smile and exclaimed: “And that is how it’s done!” Deanna gave him a grin while Jillybean leaned back onto the bench—she didn’t smile. She was jittery, her eyes flicking everywhere and her hands touching the dash as if the feeling was new. This was sadly normal for Jillybean, now; joy was infrequent and anger a constant backdrop. She was drifting between mental states now that the danger was over.
    Neil wasn’t smiling either. “If we got through that unscathed, I’d be very surprised, and, of course, we have another decision in front of us: do we go on the way we had planned? That might have been just a taste of what could be waiting for us and it was a fiasco. How much ammo did we just burn through? Five hundred rounds? A thousand?”
    Deanna shook her head. “No way it was that much. I’d say two-hundred, tops.”
    “No, Neil is right on this,” Grey said. “Ammo goes faster than you can imagine in battle, and I heard at least two guns going full auto there for a while. But...but we should get an actual count before making any decision about changing course.” He had added this last point, quickly. Deanna’s face had begun to set in something that was close to a frown and he hated the idea of being the person who had caused that.
    It turned out Neil was right, and not just about the numbers of bullets used—all together they had fired over eight-hundred rounds—he was also right about the human cost. Joslyn stunned everyone with an accusation of murder. Sadie hung her head as Joslyn started bleating about what had happened in the cab of the second truck. “Instead of helping Lindsey, Sadie shot her like a dog.” Everyone stared at the Goth girl. In the silence she had caused, Joslyn added: “And then she wanted to kill Eve!”
    Michael immediately shouted