Free The Dead Rise (Book 1): Zombies and Chainsaws by Mike Evans Page A

was hanging on by a thread of skin. Matt didn’t bend down to check his pulse because he knew there was no chance his friend was still alive. He was less worried about Bill and more concerned about the fact that he more than likely hadn’t done this to himself. He looked around trying to find whatever it was that had done this and when he couldn't find anything started to try and think things out. He went back to the truck reeling in the hose, the last bits of the remnants of the chemicals spilling out as the hose wound up.
    Matt went back to Bill thinking that he was going to have to call the cops and that there was a killer on the loose or that there was quite possibly a wolf somewhere and it needed to be taken out. Matt was frantic and didn't know what he could do about it. He was losing his mind. When he ran back to Bill he was not there. He followed the line of entrails and blood. The trail that it was making was not something easily missed. Bill had not made it far and when he caught up to him the angle with which his head was hanging on to was the most unnatural thing he’d ever seen in his entire life.
    "Bill, Bill you okay? What the fuck is going on?"
    Bill turned around slowly the guts from his stomach hanging down by his feet. Matt backed away slowly a pair of hands gripping his shoulders and stopping his path. A second then third set gripped him and the weight from them falling forward as he tried to escape sent them all down into a pile. Matt screamed for help, there was none to be had and none that was going to come.
    “Help me, help me please somebody!”
    He spun on the ground as he tried to push himself backward. What he saw was men and women of different rates of decay. Matt found it weird that they were dressed in suits and dresses. The fact that they were looking like they were more ready for church than a mass feeding on him as the meal was making the stress and weirdness of the moment even stranger. One of the men fell rolling off of the pile and he could see the man's suit was slit up the back. The instant thought of sitting around with the old guys at coffee in the morning joking about needing new suits for church and those that were forced to go by their wives always saying, oh don't worry about the new suit when I pass you can just slit it up the back. Matt gripped at one of the women ripping her dress from her top down to her waist. 
    He didn't want to see what was clearly in front of him, but he saw an incision the kind that the mortician would have done once she'd been sent to the funeral home.
    Matt said, "Yo-you-you are dead? What the hell happened to you?"
    They, of course, didn't answer and he continued pushing away from them. The mouths were open wide some of their mouths had been sewn shut and those were having the hardest time opening their mouths as they got them to finally tear through the mortician’s yarn, Matt could see the lines hanging in their mouths. When he backed up far enough to be able to get up he made the mistake of forgetting the very important fact that Bill was sitting behind him originally and he ran directly into him. Matt tried pushing him away, but Bill was reaching out gripping for him. Matt was trying his best not to get his feet caught in the entrails. Matt hated to do it, but survival was the only thing ringing through his head. He punched Bill in the head twice the thin ligaments that were keeping it attached finally broke free. His large body toppled over to the ground where he lay still and did not get back up again, his head rolled many feet away. Matt watched it, half expecting that it was still going to be moving, but when it did not he felt a small sense of relief.

Chapter Seven
    Good Times
     
    It was a Friday night and the bar was packed with the regulars. There was no shortage of beer and whiskey. The few waitresses on shift were busy ducking and weaving in between the bar’s patrons. There was a heavy cloud of smoke and country music was blaring