Apocalypse Z: Book 1 (Rise of the Undead) by Baileigh Higgins

Author:Baileigh Higgins [Higgins, Baileigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2019-09-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14 - Amy

The next morning, Amy dug another hole. This one she placed in a distant corner of the yard, as far away from the house as she could manage. It took hours, but she finally managed to make the grave deep enough. Luckily, the ground was soft due to a bout of recent rain.

After wrapping the corpse in an old blanket, she dragged it toward the hole and dumped it inside. Once the grave was covered with fresh dirt, she uttered a quick prayer for the poor man’s soul. Whatever he might have been in death, he was still a person before that: someone’s dad, husband, son, or brother. A proper burial was the least she could do for him. “I’m sorry I killed you, but I had no choice, mister. I hope you rest in peace.”

With most of the day already gone, she knew she had to hurry. Armed with the pistol, shotgun, a roll of wire and clippers, she set off to patrol the fence. It was a long walk, but she enjoyed the activity. With the changing of the seasons, everything had turned to gold with undertones of brown and accents of russet.

Along the way, she inspected the fence with care, knowing her life depended on it. She replaced a couple of rusted wires and found a ditch formed by rainwater. It was deep enough to allow a person to crawl through, so she filled it in with loose rocks and sand before continuing with her circuit.

She’d walked about three-quarters of the way around the property when she found the hole. It was only a few feet from the gate, a gap big enough for a zombie to wriggle through if it wanted. It was hidden from view by a thick bush, the reason nobody had spotted it until now.

The wire was rusted through where it connected to the post. She had to replace each strand by hand and clip off the old. It was a big job, and she resigned herself to spending the rest of the afternoon on the task.

Barely an hour had passed, however, when the rumble of an approaching vehicle put Amy on high alert. Grabbing her shotgun, she hunkered down behind the bush and waited. She didn’t have to wait long.

Within seconds, a faded blue truck appeared around the bend, its tires kicking up a cloud of dust. It stopped before the gate, and the passenger door opened with a loud creak. Footsteps approached, crunching on the loose gravel.

Amy’s heart was banging in her chest like a drum, and the sour tang of fear coated her tongue. She clutched the gun with sweaty palms, trying to remain calm. To her immense relief, a familiar figure appeared before her eyes.

It was Mrs. Robinson, the next-door-neighbor. Next-door meaning they lived several miles away on a working farm with crops, and horses. They also had a pumpkin patch, and every year, Amy’s mom would buy a couple for Halloween. They’d spend the day carving scary faces into the hollowed-out gourds while eating pumpkin pie, Amy’s favorite.

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