Return of the Saboteur by Wymore James & James Aiden

Author:Wymore, James & James, Aiden [Wymore, James]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781620079003
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Published: 2015-07-18T07:00:00+00:00

on expected desolation when he arrived in New Orleans, but the city offered a different picture. The building faced the street like a respectable office tower. The noon sun warmed and humidified the air. Instead of ruins, burning fires, and shambling zombies, the city exuded a sense of professional respect.

A service truck droned, yellow lights flashing on top. Jon read the logo on the door, “Zombie Abatement Service.” The middle-aged driver wore his muscles like a pro-wrestler, all sunglasses, and a handlebar moustache. Guns hung on a rack inside the back window behind the driver’s head. Jon didn’t want to know what was in the locked boxes in the back of the truck.

“I expected more damage from the hurricane,” Michelle said.

“Different part of town,” Ricky said.

Jon had every intention of staying in the station, as he promised Glass, but, he needed food. “Keep your eyes peeled for a Voodoo priestess,” Jon said.

“Really?” the others asked in unison. Their wide eyes suggested they thought it would be a great tourist attraction.

“She’s got a skull I need.” Jon kept his face even and watched as his travelling companions went from disbelief to confusion to a hint of trepidation.

Ricky felt for the gun in his jacket pocket. For some reason, he was wearing an old style suit. Jon had on something similar, but it was white and made of cotton; less gangster, more businessman. Michelle wore a beige summer dress and wide brimmed hat.

Three tall teen boys came around the corner. Jon considered asking about local dining, thinking of gumbo and beignets. As the boys approached, he noticed something off about their skin. With wide eyes and gritted teeth, they stepped off the sidewalk and moved toward Jon and the others. Although they lacked the usual marks and lacerations, it quickly became obvious that they weren’t right in the head. The boys took ragged breaths and wore manic expressions. Their pale skin sagged off their faces and arms.

Ricky drew his pistol. Still a revolver, it lacked the style of the Western iron. “Stay where you are.”

The boys didn’t stop or respond. Jon said, “Let’s just run.” He wheeled around and headed back toward the station.

The couple followed him. Jon’s legs ached. He could walk, but the pain behind his knees threatened to slow him.

The zombies didn’t run, but managed to keep pace with the group. Though they gave no indication of it, Jon assumed they were hungry. Zombies were always hungry. He led the others around the side of the building, not wanting to take on a small mob of zombies in a public train station. He said, “Maybe we can lose them down the street?”

His cracked skin itched. The others kept pace with him, even though they could have outrun him. They put more distance between them and the zombies.

His breath came in struggled swallows. He couldn’t run like this forever, but something told him the zombies could. What were zombies doing out in the middle of the day anyways?

He plunged into an alley.

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