Apocalypse Atlanta (Book 1): Apocalypse Atlanta by Rogers David

Author:Rogers, David [Rogers, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Dave's World Publishing
Published: 2013-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

Darryl

Darryl awoke to the smell of meat and eggs being cooked. He sat up, his momentary confusion deepening as he registered he wasn’t in his bed. Or any bed. He was on a sleeping bag that had been stretched out behind the bar in the lounge. The bag was thin padding at best, and the concrete block floor beneath was hard and unyielding. It had left him stiff, and a little sore in a couple of places.

Glancing around, he heard the snores of others nearby. 2C was sprawled face down on another sleeping bag next to him, with Spider and Smoke beyond him in sequence. 2C was snoring so loudly Darryl was amazed he’d gotten any sleep at all with that going on next to him. His memory was waking up, as slowly as his body it felt, and reminding him of the events of yesterday. Of why he was here instead of back in his apartment.

Groaning, he saw the little pile of things that normally rode around in his pockets next to the sleeping bag. His boots formed the base of the stack, while the holstered Glock was right on top. Darryl scooped the gun up and clipped it onto the side of his belt, then gathered everything else into his arms and rose slowly. His muscles protested any movement after the period of inactivity.

He put everything on the bar top, then managed to pull his boots on one at a time without falling over. As he crammed things back into his pockets, wallet, knife, some spare change; he lingered over the phone long enough to see the time. Frowning, he glanced at the nearest window. It was blocked by a heavy curtain, but there was sunlight visible at the edges; not coming into the room, but visible as it fell upon the thick fabric from outside.

He had slept maybe four hours. As he fumbled a cigarette out of the pack he frowned slightly. Even more odd, he felt tired, but not like going back to sleep. He wasn’t sure why. Lighting the smoke up, he inhaled deeply and drew the first nicotine of the day into his lungs. It felt good, made him think this could almost be just another morning after at the clubhouse. After a huge and tripping party.

Snorting silently, Darryl stepped around the edge of the bar and picked his way across the sleeping forms scattered all across the floor. A few stirred as he went past, but no one really woke up. He made it to the door without stepping on anyone and crossed the hallway into the kitchen.

It was as busy as he’d ever seen it. Tamera, Monique and Vivian were busy at the counters and stove, while Jody was up on a wooden stepstool fussing around with the contents of a cupboard. Darryl could see flour and shortening on the upper shelf, while the bottom was packed full of a wide array of spices.

“Morning DJ,” Tamera said as she lifted patties of meat out of a cast iron skillet that probably dated back to the building of the house.

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