Undead Sanctuary by A.M. Geever

Author:A.M. Geever [Geever, A.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A.M. Geever

Chapter 23

Mike

“I’ll leave while you vote.”

Mike didn’t bother to grab his jacket hanging on the coat-tree. The cold air bit at his face as he stepped onto the porch. He skirted the long table and benches where he’d envisioned everyone eating on summer evenings, the screens keeping mosquitoes at bay. At the rate things were going, they might not be here come summer.

He started toward the screen door by the winch house in front of him, then wheeled around. The other side of the porch had a door, too. He went that way instead. He knew everyone could see him walk past the bay windows on either side of the fireplace, but somehow it felt there was less chance anyone would pursue him.

Everyone knew what he’d said to Jay. The furtive glances, and conversations that screeched to a halt when he entered a room, made it obvious. He was glad to escape the eyes on him. He strode past the outhouse and into the woods. The hiking trail on this side of the house was less defined compared to the one that led to the waterfall, making it easy to stray. An enormous tree had fallen a thousand feet from the lodge and he strode toward it.

When he reached the downed tree he kicked it, his hands prickling. The desire to throttle Jay, Amy, and every zombie on the planet made him want to scream. All the zombies did was moan and try to eat them. Amy and Jay… His insides squeezed, trying to take up more space than his body allowed, sending his blood pressure skyrocketing. They bitched about everything. Jay was lazy as sin. Amy took part in the chores but complained—loudly—that they never did them the way she had suggested. They had pitched a fit about everything just before.

A stab of guilt pierced Mike’s anger. He’d been terrible to Amy because he’d been angry, implying they’d throw her out. Under normal circumstances, he would have apologized days ago. He told himself every morning that today he’d apologize, but then she’d start bitching. It had been easy to let his resolve fly out the window like a dust mote. Sandy had been the opposite of Amy and Jay. She wasn’t here, and they were. His jaw clenched at the unfairness.

“Pull yourself together,” he muttered when he realized he had tears in his eyes.

He dashed them away. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. He turned around, leaning against the log, and glared at the lodge. It looked idyllic in the middle of the woods, with the white clapboard siding and green trim, the many windows, and the stone chimney. The curved sliver of moon carved near the top of the outhouse door made even the outhouse charming to look at. And it would be, if it weren’t for Amy, Jay, and the world being overrun by dead people. If Sandy hadn’t been forced to shoot herself rather than turn into one of them. She’d died not because she

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