Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 13): Gone by Chesser Shawn

Author:Chesser, Shawn [Chesser, Shawn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Morbid Press
Published: 2018-07-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

The driver steered the jacked-up 4x4 left off of 39 and coasted to a full stop a hundred feet west of the burned-out Shell station. Leaving the V8 idling, he looked past the twenty-year-old blonde to his right and addressed the scruffy-looking teenager riding shotgun. “Good eye, Nate Dog. You got 20/20 vision or some shit?”

The passenger shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Far as I know,” he said, tugging nervously on the wispy beginnings of a mustache. “Haven’t had ‘em checked since I was twelve. Been about six years, I guess.” He regarded the young woman to his left. “How often did you go to the ornithologist?”

“Ophthalmologist,” she said, snapping her gum. “Ornithologist is a faggot who studies birds.”

The driver shot her a sidelong glance. Speaking slowly, he said, “Homosexual. A fag is a cigarette. Speaking of …” He reached across the seat, brushing the young woman’s breasts in the process. He smiled and wiggled his fingers before Nate’s face.

Gimme.

Without protest, Nate relinquished his last cigarette. He made a show of crumpling the empty box before chucking it into the back seat.

The young woman looked to the driver first. She let her gaze linger for a second then regarded Nate with a coquettish smile.

“If I would have asked you for a cigarette, too, who would you have given it to … me or Otto?”

“I’m pleading the fifth,” Nate replied.

Otto laughed at that. It was the kind of drawn-out bray that usually preceded him committing violence. He said, “You and Holly drank the fifth, dumbass.” In a sing-song voice he added, “And you didn’t save any for good ol’ Otto.”

With the tension she’d just created taking on a palpable air, Holly excused herself to go take a pee.

Nate scanned the lot on his side before elbowing his door open.

“If you want some privacy, you better make it quick,” Otto called as he watched her shimmy her way onto Nate’s lap.

Flashing the same smile at Otto she’d just covertly hit Nate with, she ground her ass against the younger man’s crotch and then hopped down from the truck, along the way raking her nails across the front of Nate’s stiff new Levi’s.

The second the door thudded shut, Nate faced Otto. Again worrying his sparse facial hair, he said, “She’s been asking questions.”

Otto took a drag on the cigarette and exhaled through his nose. Wisps of smoke curled through his beard and around his head. With the tendrils drifting lazily toward the open door, he said, “What’s she saying?”

“She saw the bump on Tyrone’s head.”

“Who gives a fuck,” Otto spat. “Just tell her the same story I told her.”

Nate looked questioningly across the cab.

“The dumbfuck was drunk and high. He probably fell against one of the rocks in the fire pit. That’ll make a motherfucker dizzy as fuck. Then he wandered off in a daze and next thing you know … voilà, he’s getting ate by a Mortimer.“

“She doesn’t buy it.” Nate checked over his right shoulder. Saw that Holly was almost to the SUV.

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