Zombie Killers (Book 8): Bad Company by Holmes John F

Author:Holmes, John F. [Holmes, John F.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Zombies
Published: 2016-10-10T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 279

It was dark the night before we were to approach the next town and collect ‘taxes’, the kind of dark that reminds you that the light of civilization has gone out. I lay on the stretcher in the back of the truck, awake and very conscious of Captain Lowenstein lying next to me. During the night, she had slid over next to me, maybe even as she slept, and rolled until her body was pressed against mine. It felt good; in fact, it felt very good. Too good.

My thoughts wandered as I tried to gently disengage myself from her, but she grunted and threw her arm over my chest. I was acutely aware of her breasts pressed against me through the thin t-shirt she wore, and I lay there in the darkness, trying not to think of Brit, and feeling like a shitbag.

Outside a faint light suddenly flared, a cigarette being lit by one of our guards, and a muttered conversation in Spanish continued, a low key argument that seemed to have been going on forever. Being careful not to disturb her broken arm, I gently moved Shona aside and, somewhat regretfully, stretched over and lifted a bit of the tent flap, looking for familiar stars and their position on the horizon, to get an idea what time it was. Early morning, around three, I guessed.

The conversation outside was interrupted by a squishing sound, and a simultaneous THUMP of something striking the body of the truck. A split second later, I heard a strangled choking, and shook Shona awake, just as the back flap of the canvas was thrown open. She sat up, instantly awake, and I put a finger to her lips.

“Let’s go!” whispered Boz’s lazy Texas accent, and we both jumped up and headed to the back of the truck.

“Careful!” I said to the ex-Green Beret, “her arm is broken.” I helped her over the gate using her good arm, and Boz lowered her to the ground. I could barely see the camouflaged form of Ziv, scanning for targets around the side of the truck. On the ground lay one guard, throat slashed, and the second was headless from a sniper round.

Turning back for King Monahan , I felt through the darkness to where she had been lying on the opposite side the truck. My hand felt her leg, and I shook it, but there was no response, and I shook it harder. Then I felt it, wet and bloody. I took a flashlight from my pocket and, keeping one eye closed to preserve my night vision, I cupped my hand over it and turned it on to make a faint glow. She lay there, wrist slashed open with a razor, three long vertical slashes.

Damn.

“Come on, gimp!” whispered Boz, motioning for me to jump down. Leaving King’s corpse. I straddled the tailgate, mindful of my leg, and then stopped.

“Go, King’s dead, but I’ve got something to do here. I’m staying.”

Ziv turned and looked at me, muttered something

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