Free A Dark Evolution (Book 2): Deranged by Jason N. LaVelle

Sophie had been using, and a multipurpose tool that had been stuffed into a bike bag.
    They filled Kala’s backpack and one other bag, which Dylan wore. Sophie carried her dirty Barbies. Dylan scooped up both lanterns, and an old rusted tent stake fell from his pack.
    “I got it,” Kala said, scooping up the bit of metal. The thing looked dangerous, but she stuck it in her back pocket before scooping up her axe. I just have to remember to take that out before I sit on it, she told herself, thinking that going out because of a tetanus infection would be pretty lame during the zombie apocalypse. “Okay, I think we’re ready,” she said.
    “Let's go,” Sophie said excitedly.
    Dylan smiled at her. “You tired of the basement, Soph?”
    She made a sour face and gave him a thumbs-down.
    “Ha! All right princess, let’s find you a new castle.”
    “Castle, castle!”
    Kala couldn't help but chuckle at her happiness. Laughter really was contagious, she just hadn’t felt the occasion for it in a long time. Maybe this is going to be okay.
     
    *****
     
    Or maybe not. Dylan listened at the steel fire door for just a moment before letting it swing open. He waved for them to follow. Sophie walked between them with Kala bringing up the rear carrying her pack and fire axe. Dylan pushed up the metal grate above them, having to heave it hard with one hand, sending it clattering open. Behind him Sophie said, “Shh, they'll hear.”
    Kala smiled at the little girl’s acumen. “We’re leaving so fast we won't even need to worry, honey.” Dylan disappeared into the evening above them and Kala thought she heard a grunt, or an oof , like he’d fallen over.
    “Dylan, you okay?” she called, but they were right on his heels. Then a hairy arm reached into the stairwell and grabbed Sophie's arm, yanking her out forcefully.
    “What the -”
    She couldn’t finish her statement, because the black and brown barrel of a Kalashnikov 47 poked into the void where Sophie had been, aiming right at her head.
    “Oh shit,” she cursed. There really had not been any way for them to recon outside before they emerged, not that they would have thought to anyway. They just wanted to get the hell out of here. She thought about trying to stash the axe, but a pair of camo clad legs walked into the space. She knew she was caught. Dragging her feet, she trudged up the last of the steps and into the humid Florida evening.
    She was met by a big, stinking, toothy grin.
    “Well, Mitch, it looks like we have a regular old interracial party here.”
    Mitch, a tall, skinny white-haired man with skin drawn tight over an angular face stood off to the side, with Dylan held tight against him in a headlock. In his other hand he held a long, heavy shotgun. The man who was speaking was shorter than Mitch but still a few inches taller than Kala. He had dark green and black painted over his soft face, and long brown hair fell around his ears in a style that could be, at best, described as a mix between Billy Ray Cyrus and Harry Potter. It was not flattering. The man named Mitch spoke, and it was a slow, southern drawl.
    “It certainly is a party, huh, Terry? We’ve got blackie here, kid sister, and as a bonus, this skinny little hottie,” Mitch sneered at Kala, and she could almost see the sinister, lust-filled thoughts leaking out of him.
    Terry nodded, backing up slowly as Kala emerged, keeping the rifle trained on her. She observed the rifle carefully, noting its condition, oiled, but not polished. It had probably sat for years, unused, and was recently brought back into active duty. There was a little black residue around the inside rim of the barrel, indicating that it had in fact been fired recently, which meant that it at least worked. Good information to know in her current situation, but since the weapon was thirty years old, she would not rely on it.
    “Oh yeah, boss man, it’s going to be a good night tonight. We’re going to have a big old fire,