Fast Walkers: Outbreak (The Dead Trilogy Book 1) by J.D. Bishop

Author:J.D. Bishop [Bishop, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-26T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Greg pulled up at his niece's elementary school, his hands shaking slightly as he put the car in park and shut off the engine. It must have been lunch recess for the kids or something because he could see a lot of children out playing on the playground. Greg groaned and stretched as he got out of his girlfriend’s mother's car, a red Lexus IS. He was still rather sore from the car accident, and he had to admit he was running on fumes. The Army had kept them up most of the night after he woke up with their endless questions, and he’d ‘slept’ less than two hours in the past thirty-six or so. He was hoping he could pick up little Natalie without much drama and head back home, where they could lock themselves in and he could curl up in bed with a blanket over his head.

When he reached the school's main office, the door was ajar, which he thought was odd, because it was pretty cold outside. The high school teachers constantly bitched about doors left open, griping about heating budgets and their classrooms being chilly. It was quiet when he stepped into the room, which was even weirder. Seeing no one at their desks or the counter, Jeff took a seat in one of the waiting chairs, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees, trying not to let his head nod.

While he waited, he pondered all of the events that took place in the last twenty-four hours. When his friends came running out of the store last night, he thought they had just done something bad for kicks and were just fucking with him. It wasn’t quite Jeff’s style, but Becky had a nasty sense of humor sometimes, and Christy was nearly as big a pothead as Wes. She’d go along with anything to get the giggles going.

He had been shocked to see the crazed man they were raving about on top of the car hood. His friends had claimed the man was dead, but Greg had not been so sure. The man certainly looked like he was on death's door, but that didn't mean he was truly dead. Greg had flip-flopped back and forth between believing his friends and believing his rational mind. On one hand, there were his friends who sounded pretty damn convinced. On the other hand . . . dead people don’t punch windshields.

He had argued in his friends’ favor to the military men because he had little to go on and because the military guys seemed to be bullies. They’d reminded Greg of his father, who constantly pushed Greg around and said he was too stupid, not good enough, and not worth the time and effort it took to pay for the food that went into Greg’s stomach. So he’d done to them what he’d done to his father—he told them they were wrong and where to fucking stick it if they didn’t like it.

It was strange

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