Dead America - Gun Runners Pt. 1 by Derek Slaton

Author:Derek Slaton [Slaton, Derek]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

Cillian, now warmed up with the change of socks, stood by the door to the house, his gaze fixed on the distant downtown area, a few blocks away. Thanks to his crafty handiwork, there were no zombies within his immediate view, but he remained acutely aware that the center of town was a different story.

As he rummaged through his bag to check his inventory of alarms, his eyes wandered to a table off to the side, where an old wind-up alarm clock rested. Its continued functionality impressed him.

"God, I love these old houses," he muttered to himself, tossing the clock into his bag before slinging it onto his back and stepping outside. He began to walk through the yard, choosing the snow-covered grass to muffle his footsteps. After the past hour of tension, he decided to savor this fleeting moment of calm.

Approaching within a couple of blocks of downtown, the chaos of the pileup gradually came into focus. Cillian leaned against a tree, retrieving his binoculars to assess the situation.

The road was a complete mess. It appeared that someone had run a red light, colliding with a truck and flipping it over. More vehicles had joined the carnage, forming an impassable maze of twisted metal.

Yet, it wasn't just the pileup that concerned him; it was what lay beyond it. Though he couldn't see through to the next intersection, he detected significant movement—dozens of zombies meandering about.

Despite the road being blocked to traffic, there were still openings large enough for the creatures to slip through if provoked. Cillian knew he had to tread carefully.

"Let's check out the next block over, see what we can see," he mumbled, pocketing the binoculars and making his way across the street, weaving through people's yards.

As he rounded the corner of a house, his heart leaped when decrepit arms reached out for him. Fortunately, a tall fence separated him from the zombie, which thrashed against the barrier, letting out frustrated moans. Cillian swiftly drew his crowbar and swung it, shattering the creature's skull.

"Maybe next time, take a few steps away from the house, dumbass," he scolded himself, tapping his head as a reminder of the close call. If not for the fence, he could've become zombie chow.

Shaking off the near-death experience, he continued through the yard, keeping a safe distance from the next house before emerging behind it. Cillian proceeded toward the street, his head swiveling as he scanned for movement. Ghouls roamed harmlessly a couple of blocks to his right, but to his left, there was a straight shot along the backside of downtown, and around the wreckage.

The issue lay with the couple dozen or so creatures in the road, aimlessly hoping for prey.

Cillian crossed the street and, once again, pulled out his binoculars. He surveyed the row of buildings on the opposite side of the street—a solid block with no alleyways.

"At least I don't have to worry about those things coming from the next street. Just need to figure out something to do with this group," he mused.

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