Free Z Children (Book 2): The Surge by Eli Constant, B.V. Barr Page A

the vehicle was loaded with a few weapons, some ammo and enough
food and water so that we could afford to sit tight for a while, maybe even a
few days—not that we would. If JW didn’t appear—with or without Chris in tow—by
the next morning, then there wouldn’t be any point in waiting days. Because
that meant he was dead. Chris too.
    It
seemed to take an hour to reach our destination. Driving the hummer was tough;
it was the largest vehicle I’d ever handled. So, even when there were no Z’s in
sight, I took it slow. Kept it within the lines and on the course.
    The
explosion had dwindled into wispy smoke rising from a badly-charred SUV by the
time we’d arrived. The Texas sun was high in the sky and the interior of the
hummer was a sauna. I lowered the driver’s side window, it thumped down jerkily
to land on the next plateau within the frame; it wasn’t like a normal
window—able to be moved down smoothly and by small degrees. The distance from
window top to door frame seeming like a great, safety-risking expanse—I hoped,
by some miracle, that JW would barrel through the only building door in sight
sooner rather than later. If he didn’t, we’d probably roast like thanksgiving
turkeys—which would still be preferable to becoming one of the flesh-eating
freaks.
    Be
alive. Come out of that door with Chris. That’s all I’m asking, JW. Wringing
my hands with worry, I settled back into the uncomfortable driver’s seat. In
the back, Bonnie’s eyes were closing and opening drowsily. Ranger was my mirror
image, though—sitting at attention and staring at the hospital. I knew Ranger
realized that his master was somewhere inside, somewhere beyond his reach. The
dog was becoming a person to me, in every imaginable way.
    * * *
     
    JW
    I had
done it again—listened to a noob and we’d ended up stuck.
    The
doctor had convinced me that the safest way out of the hospital was through the
construction area. Sure, it was safe with not a Z kid in sight, but the ‘safe
passage’ had ended at the cafeteria and that was about as safe as razor blades
in a birthday piñata. I should have asked more questions before taking her at
her word. Like—how far the construction went and how she knew it was safe. The
fact that it was the shortest distance between her office and her daily caffeine
fix was about as useless a piece of information as he could imagine.
    The
fucking cafeteria was crawling with the monsters—short and tall.
    Z
adults were ambling about. One was knocking its head into the wall repeatedly
as if trying to lodge something from memory. Maybe its living name or maybe
some image that wouldn’t die along with its humanity. There was a cluster of Z
kids on the serving counter. Two were straddling a tall woman—not a woman, a Z
adult now—with rich brown skin and curly hair that was coated in a layer of,
what looked like, whipped cream.
    The Z
kids were everywhere really, outnumbering the adults by a mile. They’d gathered
here, apparently, for the junk food. Surprise, surprise. Kids are kids, even
zombie ones—like those creepy ass triplets outside the ice cream shop when I’d
first seen Virginia. Just perched on the trunk of that car, enjoying scoops of
chocolate in the sunshine.
    Watching
the Z’s in the cafeteria—munching on candy bars, Ding-Dongs, and moon
pies—would have almost been comical except for the fact that these
junk-food-loving monsters also craved flesh and were deranged midget killers.
    Nearest
to the door we were shielded by, was a Z boy who was studying something on the
floor intently. Following his (no, its…I had to keep reminding myself that they
weren’t boys or girls or kids. They were ‘its’) gaze toward the pale industrial
tile, I saw something miniscule and black rushing across the smooth surface. A
bug of some type.
    The Z
kid followed the insect, eventually falling to all-fours and moving like the
animal it was. The bug’s trajectory took it away from our position.