J. J. Zepp by Zombie D.O.A

Author:Zombie D.O.A [D.O.A, Zombie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Amazon: B007NZG9RI
Published: 2012-07-19T13:52:18+00:00

twenty six

Kelly led me through the building to a row of three small cells close to the prison mess hall. There were about twenty people jammed in here, all of them women or kids in their teens. The cell doors were locked.

“How did you get out?” I asked Kelly.

“They took me out,” he said, “me and two others. They took us through to the kitchen just before the explosions started. The others…”

His voice trailed off and I could see tears welling in his eyes, and I pulled him towards me and gave him a hug. I could only imagine what the poor kid had been put through.

Looking over Kelly’s head I saw a key rack mounted on the wall, but even at this distance I could see that they weren’t for the cell doors. They did however remind me of a key rack I’d seen in Pratt’s office.

“Folks,” I said, addressing those crammed into cells. “Hang in there. I think I know where the keys are.”

I sprinted up the stairs and crossed the foyer to the Warder’s office. This side of the building had taken the full force of the explosion, and while the structure itself remained standing, all of the front windows had been blown in, turning to shrapnel and shredding everything inside.

The bar, most of the couches and the pinball machines had been completely destroyed and the walls were blackened and smoldering. There was a misty sheen of smoke that got in my throat and started me coughing.

It was dark in the warder’s office with the only light coming from the open door. I crossed to the key rack, looked at the mess of keys and realized that I had absolutely no idea what I was looking for.

There was a strip of masking tape running above each row with words written in marking pen. I scanned the rows hoping something would somehow clue me as to which set of keys I needed.

I’d reached the forth row, when I spotted it - a bunch of keys with the word ‘Larder’ printed above. Earlier in the day, when Kelly had been taken from the Z Zoo, Pratt had said, ‘take the kid to the Larder.”

I’d just lifted the keys from the hook when a voice spoke behind me.

“Find what you’re looking for?” the man said, and when I turned I saw the silhouette of Virgil Pratt outlined by the rectangle of light in the doorway.

“Sure,” I said, and threw the heavy set of keys at him, bowling underhand. Pratt had the drop on me, he knew that and perhaps it made him overconfident, but still he drew with lightning speed.

He managed to get the gun clear of the holster as the keys stuck his wrist. Pratt got off a shot and then I heard him scream and he fell to the carpeted floor and grabbed hold of his foot.

He kept screaming like a kid throwing a tantrum and I walked over to him and picked up his six-shooter. The bullet had ripped through his boot and removed the two small toes of his right foot.

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