After the Apocalypse Book 1 Resurrection: a zombie apocalypse political action thriller by Warren Hately

Author:Warren Hately [Hately, Warren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-06T07:00:00+00:00

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THEY ATE LIKE kings at the Night Market, dining first at Einstein’s stall in some kind of misguided show of loyalty, the confusing, generally kind-hearted vendor reminding them of the three hours’ pedaling still to be paid. That said, one bullet bought them breakfast for the morning as well as what they’d already had, and with that sort of wealth in the family purse, Tom treated the children to a second course at a neighboring stall which ran strictly at night, two lean-looking hunters battling tiredness to clean and spice and cook their own kill, and serving up mouth-watering skewers of meat more suited to a Moroccan bazaar than the ruins of the grand old city of Columbus. Tom carried a plastic-wrapped portion of cooked meat which made the package leaky with steamed juices as they cut back out into the darkness and approached their lodgings from the under-lit street.

After the heat of the day, it looked like rain was coming in, dampening the enthusiasm of Kit Conners and his friends, a lone wiry young man in the darkened workshop finishing up a project and paying them no heed as Tom led the children inside the building and back up the stairs, passing the doctor’s landing and cautiously continuing on to find the apartment door unlatched.

The smell of cooking came from within.

They entered to find Laurance kneeling at work on a small camping stove. He stirred a pot on the tiny hissing flame that was more water than meal. Dkembe stood in the corner of the kitchen, arms folded, watching like it was television. In the adjacent lounge, Shirts was spread-eagled nursing a glass of his choice of poison and probably already a couple of tankards in.

“Boys,” Tom said and they knew it wasn’t a greeting.

“My God and Goddess,” Laurance said and eyed the bagged food. “What have you got in there? It smells incredible.”

For some reason Lucas tensed, and Tom wondered whether the boy knew even before his father did that the covetous comment would spur his adrenals, making fists around the bag’s handle and the empty air at one and the same time. The younger men sensed the drop in the ambient temperature and Laurance stood and backed away.

“Hey man, it’s like . . . all cool,” he said.

“Is it?” Tom answered tersely. “You were meant to find somewhere else to stay.”

“We was working all day,” Dkembe said.

“Tom, if you’ve got ideas. . . .” Laurance opened his palms.

Tom turned on his heel and motioned for Lila and Lucas to follow, handing over the dripping parcel to his daughter and storming back down the stairs.

Dr Swarovsky opened the door with casual slowness, disapproval in every line at Tom’s rampant thumping.

“Mr Vanicek –”

“Tom.”

“You’re a little loud, as a neighbor,” she said.

“Hard not to be, with unwelcome house guests.”

“Yes, I wondered how you were doing with that.”

“You’re on the Housing Committee, right?”

“I stepped out of my job to help you and your family,” the woman said. “This is your problem to solve .

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