The Dead Saga (Book 1): Odium by Riley Claire C

Author:Riley, Claire C [Riley, Claire C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Breakwater Harbor Books'
Published: 2013-12-28T05:00:00+00:00

23.

I’m on edge as we raid the pantry for any sort of meal, waiting for Crunch to say something shitty to me like normal. Or maybe I’m on edge because we’re stuck in a building with a bunch of deaders.

I know the pantries are well stocked with cereal bars and energy drinks, but upon further inspection, there are also dried grains, pastas, and rice, which all seems to have lasted fairly well. There are also cans of beans and cold meats, all of which we can use. Somehow, we have to get this all back to our little tree house; it’s going to be a pain in the ass, but it will be worth it. I’m getting used to living in the safety of the trees. With the right tools, more harnesses, and some extra weapons, we could make it even better; and this food will help secure our future for the next couple of months.

Months? Jesus, life is short these days.

We find a couple of boxes of ration packs in the walk-in pantry and take them to the group. Sure, a hot meal would go down nicely, but until the place is completely cleared of deaders, it’s best to keep things as simple and as quiet as possible. We eat them cold and straight from the package, squeezing the liquidy mush directly into our mouths—which is disgusting, but it’s food, and my stomach is grateful even if my taste buds aren’t.

The meat and potato stew I have settles well in my stomach, and combined with the freeze-dried coffee (that JD insists we actually can take the risk to heat up without making too much noise), my body is in sensation overload, being so full of food and caffeine. Bliss. I guess it’s the little things these days that really make life worth living.

Duncan’s bandages have soaked through quite badly, and he seems unsettled with the pain no matter how tough he’s pretending to be. What did we expect, though? A zombie took a chunk out of his face; that’s bound to stress anybody out. Crunch works on suturing his face together the best she can, but if I’m honest, the job is ugly and will leave a terrible scar. Still, I guess if he lives, that’s better than nothing. I have avoided being in close proximity to him for the last hour or so, so when he takes some more painkillers and goes to lie down in the corner of the room for a nap, I take the opportunity to voice my concerns.

“So is anyone going to talk about the elephant in the room, or are we just going to let him pick us off unexpectedly tonight, chowing down on our brains while we sleep?” I throw my empty ration pack onto the table in front of me and reach for another of the silver-foiled delights from the box by my feet.

“He’ll be fine,” Crunch replies without fully acknowledging my comment or me.

“How do we know that the virus

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