Winchester Undead (Book 3): Winchester [Quarry] by Lund Dave

Author:Lund, Dave [Lund, Dave]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Winlock Press
Published: 2015-09-07T04:00:00+00:00

Fantasy Lounge

Both Chivo and Bexar were a little slow moving around the interior of the strip club. With Bexar’s ear against the metal door, he strained to hear any moans or movement from the undead that had chased them here the afternoon before. Hearing nothing, he turned the latch and slowly cracked the door open.

A long sliver of sunlight pierced the darkness. Blinking the tears out of his eyes from the harsh glare, Bexar peered into the morning sun. A couple of undead shambled by on the street, but the huge mass of undead from the previous day had gone elsewhere. Somewhere far away, hopefully. But Bexar wasn’t sure. The mass that chased them yesterday seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, as if the undead had waited in planned ambush.

Another bottle of Jack Daniels was stuffed inside Bexar’s pack, as was a bottle of tequila in Chivo’s. Bexar laughed at the tequila. “Mexican guy with tequila? Dude, that’s racist.” Chivo answered with a middle finger. Slowly, Bexar opened the door further before sliding into the sunlight; Chivo’s hand was on his shoulder through the movement, then he broke left to cover his area of responsibility. Bexar took point. He thought that the raised highway might give them some added protection as they made their way back to the ruined Defender. They could look for a replacement vehicle along the way. They cautiously proceeded around disabled vehicles on the highway, giving each a wide berth, as some of the owners still hung around next to their rides, even in death. At each rise, Bexar thought they were at the bridge, but apparently they had run much farther yesterday than he realized. Finally nearing the collapsed bridge, Bexar estimated the distance to have been almost two miles.

Bexar stopped and crouched in place. Chivo crouched in response and made his way to Bexar. On the road below, next to the collapsed bridge, was a bright yellow school bus. A large brush guard was welded across the flat nose of the bus, and steel bars protected each of the windows, including the windshield, which was missing. Blood was smeared along the battered sides, and the stop sign was missing. Two people stood on the roof, facing away from the highway, rifles in hand. Two more appeared from the rubble, carrying gear they’d scavenged from the Defender.

“What the fuck?” Bexar whispered to Chivo. “Drop ‘em or what?”

Chivo scanned the scene, holding his left hand up to signal “stop.” The people on the roof of the bus were women, one young and one older. Behind the wheel was a young boy, probably early teens. The two men, one much older than the other, carried the equipment from the Defender to the waiting open door at the rear of the bus. Black smoke rattled out of the tailpipe and the bus shook a little while idling.

A shot pierced the air. One of the women had fired her rifle at an approaching corpse, its skull bursting as it fell backwards into a heap on the pavement about thirty yards to their east.

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