Free Zomb-Pocalypse by Megan Berry Page A

nightmare,” He murmurs softly. His hand is stroking my hair.
    Despite the tears, I yawn.
    “You were thrashing around and crying in your sleep.”
    His voice is so low and melodic that the rumble is putting me back to sleep. I’m exhausted and strung out and, suddenly, I just let it all go and give in to the overwhelming exhaustion.
    I wake up warm and still wrapped up in Ryan’s arms. Everyone else is still sleeping, and I try to shrug out of his embrace. I’m embarrassed about the night before, but when I try and move his arms, they flex and hold on tighter. I glance up to find him looking down at me intently.
    “Are you all right?” He asks in concern, his voice is all rumbly and deep from sleep.
    My mouth goes dry, but I manage a quiet, “Yeah.”
    He slowly releases me so I can sit up and crawl down the bed.
    Abby is pressed up against me with Megan on her other side. Despite the nightmare that I can still remember vividly, I slept pretty well. I grab a bottle of water off the dresser and take a long drink.  Everyone else is starting to wake up too. Ryan stands up and stretches, disappearing into the bathroom for a minute before coming back dressed in new clothing—black jeans that seem to fit him a little better and a red checkered shirt that reminds me of a lumberjack. He stands near me and peeks out between the garbage bags that cover the window.
    “Looks clear, but we won’t know for sure until we check all sides of the house,” he says, sounding vaguely hopeful.
    We eat dry cereal in handfuls straight from the box, and I chew slowly to savor it. This might be the last time I get a chance to eat Corn Pops.
    We gather up all the gear we found and pack it into bags and boxes by the door, ready to quickly move it into the suburban. Ryan tosses around the idea of pulling the car into the garage, but we all shoot it down. If we each take a box of canned goods and clothing, then we will be done. Ryan walks around the entire house and looks out each window.
    “It seems clear,” He says again.
    For a minute, I worry that he is trying to convince himself as much as he is us.  We all face the front door; our plan is to make sure the farmyard is really zombie-free and then haul asses to move the boxes.
    “Here goes nothing,” Ryan says as he swings the front door open. I grip my golf club in my hand so hard that my knuckles turn white. The door opens wide, and we all gasp. Ryan takes a step closer. We huddle in behind him to look for ourselves.
    “Is it a zombie?” Abby asks.
    Ryan shakes his head, looking perplexed. “I don’t think so,” he says, reaching his booted foot out for a poke.
    I stare down at the sweaty, pale mess passed out on the door step. My eyes move to the limp, dead bundle of feathers that he’s holding under one arm.”
    “What’s he doing with that chicken?” Megan asks the question that we are all wondering.

Chapter Six
    We huddle around the guy, not sure what to do. He’s out cold and he doesn’t look very healthy at all. A moan sends a chill down my spine, interrupting the quiet of the morning. At first, I think it’s coming from the guy on the step. Megan obviously does too, because she raises her gun quickly and aims it at his head. Ryan pushes the barrel away and points across the yard. We follow his line of sight and see that a zombie has gotten himself tangled up in the barb wire fence.
    “It looks like there’s just the one,” Megan says, readjusting her aim.
    “You’ll attract more of them if you fire that gun.”
    I nod emphatically, agreeing with Ryan before I realize, with a start, that Ryan didn’t say it. I look down at my feet and see that the guy is awake. His skin is blanched white, and there’s a thin sheen of perspiration running down his face, but his bloodshot eyes seem alert.
    All four of us take a giant step away from him, just in case. The zombie across the yard moans again, as if he wants all the attention for himself.
    “Do you want me to