Battlefield Z Omnibus, Vol. 1 [Books 1-9] by Lowry Chris

Author:Lowry, Chris [Lowry, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Grand Ozarks Media
Published: 2018-10-07T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

It was him. He was alive.

He was on top of the building next to the street and as I watched, he shimmied over the side and slid down the old drain pipe strapped to the wall with metal bands.

He dropped on the ground and ran toward me, hopping over dead bodies, cradling a hunting rifle strap to his chest.

He stopped five feet away and stared at me.

“What did you do?”

I opened my mouth to talk, but couldn’t. The lump in my throat was too big. My eyes watered up and everything blurred.

“All of them?”

Was that wonder in his voice?

“I heard the big gun shooting,” he said in a rush. “I got up here to watch, and saw you. I didn’t know it was you or I would have helped.”

He stepped closer then.

“I’m sorry Dad.”

Sorry? Sorry for not helping me?

“Boy,” I sobbed and grabbed him and wrapped my arms around him like I would never let go.

I felt his shoulders hitch as he cried too, head buried in my chest, a low sniffling snuffle of pain, and joy and suffering and release.

We held on like that for a long time.

When he pulled away, he smiled. I still couldn’t get used to his thirteen-year-old face without braces, and he looked thin. Too thin. Worry lines around the edge of his hazel eyes. Hair longer than the last time I told him he was looking like a hippie.

My son.

“You look like shit, Dad.”

Another thing I wouldn’t get used to. The boy swearing. I guess I’d let a couple slide, it being the Z apocalypse and all, but he wasn’t too old to take across my knee. Yet.

“You look like Mad Max.”

He stepped back and indicated his outfit.

“The leather keeps the bite from going through.”

“Good man,” I said and secretly wondered why I thought layers instead of leather.

“What happened to you?” he asked and pointed to the scar line that ran along the side of my head.

“Someone shot me.”

“They missed.”

“It was close.”

“Your face looks different too.”

“Where’s your sister?” I couldn’t hold back.

I’d get the rest of the story later. What he had done to stay alive. But I had found one of my three and needed to know where the second was.

It was a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, an eternity of wondering between the time I got the question out and his face fell.

I wanted to sob again, but not in joy.

“I lost her,” he started crying.

It was little boy tears, frustration and anger from letting me down. He was a man and he was supposed to protect his sister. That failure was eating him inside.

“When?”

“A week? Ten days,” he blubbered.

I needed to get more details, and we needed to move. I could already see some Z wandering up the road, drawn by the noise and our presence.

“Come on,” I grabbed his hand and started moving toward the Junction Bridge.

He dug in his heels and stopped me.

“We have to go back,” he said. “That’s where we said we’d meet.”

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