Dead Drive (Book 3): The Lost Boys by Trask Mike

Author:Trask, Mike [Trask, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Published: 2018-11-28T05:00:00+00:00

***

“This was a big day for us,” Alan said to me, as we loaded the vehicles, ready to head home. “Four deer. That’s awesome.”

He was right. It was a big day, and that was huge. Frank, Alan, Vaggy, and I had all bagged one. The meat of those four deer would go a long way. I wasn’t a huge fan of what I had just done, but this was the world we were living in now. Nobody had time to be a vegan. Not that I’d want to, anyway. But you ate what you could, when you could. Kill, or be killed. Kill, or die a slow, painful death due to starvation.

Now fortified with food supplies but plagued by the cold driving rains, we endured it seemingly nonstop for the next week. Missions took us all over southern New Hampshire, and northern and western Massachusetts. All of them were miserable in the frigid, soggy conditions. We were pushing out more and more, further and further away. No matter how far we went though, we had yet to come across another settlement.

Still, every now and again, we’d rescue a handful of people, most of whom were emaciated, reduced to not much more than skin and bones. It did prove, however, that there were people still out there. Still out there, in desperate need of help. Finding them was nothing but pure luck. Being in the right place at the right time. Heading into a grocery store, or weapons store, stumbling across people who had been living there since the start of the outbreak.

On more than one occasion, people approached us at the Green Bug or wherever they saw us, asking to look for lost loved ones. Though we tried as best we could to reason with them and gently break the news that if their people hadn’t been heard from yet, they probably wouldn’t be … they didn’t listen.

Our answer was always the same, “We’ll do our best and keep our eyes open. But please, don’t expect a miracle.”

They’d always shake our hands, thank us a million times over, and not listen to our advice. They’d always expect the miracle and wait for the miracle. Each one of us would love nothing more than to find each missing person. But that just wasn’t in the cards. Nor was it realistic. Most things moving around outside the Safe Zone were dead. It wasn’t called “The Dead Zone” for no reason.

Almost every single day, we’d load up into either helicopters, or our Hummers, and head out into the shit. Every city we flew over was still crawling with undead. Those cities we had gone through, killing and burning every zombie that crossed our path, still had zombies in them. Almost seemed like they were reproducing. Like Jackrabbits.

No matter what the mission was, we’d always get the job done. The more people we saved, the more supplies we secured, only added fuel to the fire in the local/urban legends department. Which only made us want to stay within the confines of our gated island.

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