Bad Day Zombie Series (Book 2): Bad Day For A Road Trip by Offutt Jason

Author:Offutt, Jason [Offutt, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2018-06-05T04:00:00+00:00

July 31: Mayday, Kentucky

Chapter 13

“Thank you for having us to your house,” Bryce McKenney said, raising his wine glass in a toast, the Cabernet Sauvignon that half-filled the glass as dark as blood. Lazarus’ house was simple. After all, before he rose from the dead he worked at the plastic factory outside town, but since the world fell, it had become the nicest house in Mayday. Lazarus held up his own glass and motioned it toward McKenney before taking a drink and falling back into his meal. McKenney sat at the head of the table; Lazarus had insisted. A medium-well steak and mashed potatoes were in front of him on the china Lazarus’ parents got for their wedding. Walter Seidel saw the cow through the gate again; this time he brought it home; the potatoes were nearing the end of their usefulness, but Gwenny peeled off the sprouts with the skins and boiled the Yukon Golds, mashing them with butter and reconstituted powdered milk and it was delicious. McKenney’s wife, Tabitha’s, steak was well done, their son Kyle’s – what was he? Nine? Ten? – ground into a hamburger he ate without a bun.

Lazarus smiled at the man, his teeth stained from years of smoking, although he’d given that up when he rose from the dead. Can’t tempt God too much. “The pleasure’s mine, Bryce.” He stopped, his knife in mid-cut and looked up in concern. “May I call you Bryce?”

Bryce smiled back, his teeth clean and white from years of repeated dental visits and daily care. Don’t gloss over floss. “Of course.”

“How’s your new house?” Lazarus lay silverware on the plate and swirled his wine. He’d read somewhere swirling pulls oxygen into the wine and improves the smell. Whatever. Any wine without a screw-on lid tasted awful, Lazarus didn’t care what it smelled like.

“It’s fine.” Tabitha dabbed her lips with a white, cloth napkin. “There’s plenty of room for us; too much, actually. How–”

“I don’t like the man,” Kyle said as he twisted his fork in the potato on his plate and stared at his hand.

Lazarus cleared his throat and sat his wine glass on the tablecloth. “Man?” he asked. “What man?”

Kyle dropped his fork; it rang the plate as it bounced. “The man outside my window.”

“Kyle,” Tabitha snapped.

A laugh. The faces at the table turned toward Lazarus, who raised his mostly empty wine glass and nodded. “A toast to honesty,” he said, the words smooth as soft butter. He turned toward Kyle, his eyes didn’t seem to blink. “Now, what man?”

Kyle turned his face from the person, the scary, scary person across the table from him, the scary person who didn’t blink. He stared at his plate, the half-eaten hamburger now a rancid lump. “The man I saw standing outside, staring in my window last night.”

Lazarus put his elbows on the table and leaned on his fists. “What did he look like?”

Kyle shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I got up to pee and when I came back to the room, somebody was standing in my window.

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