Unit 9: Zombie Unit Book 1 by Stanley Gray

Author:Stanley Gray [Gray, Stanley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: William Gray Entertainment Media
Published: 2018-10-21T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 11

They were leaving the state.

The moon’s paramour blushed as it made a few feeble, coy attempts at pretending to resist its advances. The pastel hues blended together to create a dazzling display that captured Tom’s full attention. He fell into a trance, watching the desert sun poke its head, yawning, over the horizon. Lethargic and fatigued, Tom found something…remarkable, in the timeless beauty of the changing of the celestial guard.

Santa Teresa provided a haven, of sorts. And it turned out that Delilah happened to live there. The ride felt longer than 30 minutes, but when they finally pulled in to the driveway of a quaint two-story stucco house replete with garage and lawn, Tom felt ready to dive into sleep. He didn’t even need a bed, at this point. After roving around town, getting shot at, ending his career, and becoming a fugitive all in the span of a few hours, he thought he might deserve a nap.

Delilah paused in front of the decent-sized garage, waiting for the cream-colored door to open. When she pulled in to the shadowy enclave, she sat in the driver’s seat for several minutes, fingers lightly tapping on the steering wheel. The crack of the door cycling shut swept through the confined space. “Okay. Let’s go in.” she said.

Something in here had changed. Tom got out, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. He grabbed his bags and tried to follow Delilah, but she was already inside. A door to the left remained open, and a narrow sliver of dim light pulsed through, illuminating the way. “Ow.” He said. Nearly tripping on a small wooden step that was hard to see in the low light, he stubbed his toe. He looked down, glowering. Fighting the urge to stand there and take out his rage on the inanimate object, Tom checked his impulses and headed in to the house.

A comfortable living room decorated in a soft style that seemed to scream of femininity greeted him. Off to the side was a decent-sized kitchen. Delilah stood in the glow cast by a tall stainless steel refrigerator, drinking a glass of orange juice. She wore nothing but her bra and panties.

Tom gulped.

He wasn’t sure if his heart would be able to take the constant radical shifts life seemed to suddenly delight imposing on him. Sometimes it would jolt up, sometimes it would descend like some crazed rodent scrambling into the earth’s bosom.

“Where’s Mike?” he asked. He chided himself. Here he was, confronted by a beautiful, half-naked woman who’d already expressed her attraction to him, and he was inquiring about the gay guy. Mike was great, but…Tom wasn’t going to have sex with Mike. Not by choice, anyway.

“Come sit down. Let’s talk.” she said. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked. After a long moment of staring at his immobile form, she smiled. “Do my boobs intimidate you, Thomas? Big, bad reporter man?” she asked.

“N…Noooo.” Tom said. His voice cracked. Despite himself and the circumstances, he smiled. “Honestly, yes.”

“I can put a robe on if you’d like.

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