Invasion of the Dead (Book 1): Treasure Coast Zombies by Murphy H.L

Author:Murphy, H.L. [Murphy, H.L.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Zombies
Published: 2016-07-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Interestingly enough, I made it two hundred feet before I came upon a pair of men on the side of the road, sitting on parked motorcycles. From their dumbfounded expressions, they had scoped out the whole scene. The arrival of the Thing, it's destruction, our attempted getaway, and Eddie’s heroic end. Both men had Glocks tucked into their waistbands, and held half empty bottles of cheap Mexican beer usually sold at my favorite gas station. In the light of the inferno still raging at the storefront I could just make out blood splatter on too expensive denim vests, and too clean boots. Wannabe biker scum, indulging in what they thought the life was, or else pledges trying to make the grade. I really didn't care. I could suddenly smell the blood on them, still fresh enough to run down their polished boots. Carried on that blood was fear, having felt a good deal of it all night I was on a first name basis with the emotion. Hell, we were practically going steady, we had seen so much of one another lately. These shitheads had killed, and had enjoyed inflicting terror on their victims before they ended the poor bastards lives.

“Who the fuck are…”one of the started too ask, but I interrupted his flow.

I shot the guy on the left, wearing a leather skull cap, a tee shirt from some titty bar in West Palm Beach, and tight leather chaps over too expensive blue jeans, because the smell of ejaculate was strong on him. Don't ask me how I could smell it, I just could. Lucky me. He had enjoyed what they had done so much the sick bastard had jizzed himself. Jizz Pants chest ruptured from the pair of forty-five rounds I pumped into his heart.

Asshole Number Two seemed to be suffering some cognitive dissonance. He knew I had just shot his buddy, but couldn't reconcile that fact with his recently reinforced self image. After all, he and Jizz Pants had just killed everybody at a gas station, men, women, children, everybody. Jizz Pants and he were bad mofos. Since they were real hardcore biker scum, there was no way I had just walked up and shot one of them like it was nothing. He had just begun shifting his addled brain into motion when I put the still hot muzzle of the 1911 against his forehead and emptied the contents of his cranial vault onto the sidewalk.

A quick frisk of the bodies turned up two sets of keys, a pair of Glock 17s, almost five hundred in cash, and a genuine pair of brass knuckles. The money and the knucks went into my pocket, while I tossed the the Glocks into the high grass. Air slid in and out of my lungs slowly while I came to terms with what I had just done. It wasn't my job in life to balance karmic scales, but the smell, dear god the smell, was too much for me. I drew in a long, deep breath and turned to pick a ride.

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