The Dead Don't Yell by Shaun Whittington

Author:Shaun Whittington
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Published: 2018-03-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty Nine

The three individuals trudged their way up to Quint’s place, the thought of Elza and Ophelia’s deaths depressing them. Vince and David were carrying a box each of tins, and Vince was the first to step inside the door that Quint had left open for his guests.

David and Stephanie stepped inside, and Stephanie shut the door behind her. All three hung around in the hallway, and Stephanie was first to go into the living room whilst Quint was in the kitchen, boiling his kettle on a camping gas ring. After a short discussion with Stephanie and David, Vince informed Quint that the teenagers didn’t want tea.

Vince and David entered the kitchen and plonked the boxes of tins on the floor.

“For your help,” Vince said.

“Wow.” Quint shook his head in surprise and questioned, “Is that motorhome full of that stuff?”

“There’s only ten boxes,” Vince decided to lie. “But these two are our way of saying thanks for getting rid of those dead bastards, and, of course, when you pull out that RV.”

Quint nodded. “Tea first.”

Vince and David went into Quint’s living room to join Stephanie.

“You take sugar?” the farmer yelled from the kitchen.

“No,” Vince yelled back.

“Good,” Quint laughed. “Because I ain’t got any.”

Minutes later, Quint returned with two hot cups of tea. He paused and saw that Vince and Stephanie were on the couch, but young David was slumped in the armchair, his armchair.

Quint handed one cup to Vince and gazed at David MacDonald. “That’s my chair, son.”

“Oh.” David immediately stood up and sat and squeezed inbetween Vince and Stephanie. “Sorry.”

“So, is this your place?” Vince asked before taking a noisy slurp of the piping hot beverage.

“Has been for years.” Quint sat and rested the tea on top of his right thigh. “Me and the wife have been here for over thirty years. It was my father’s before then. I’ve lived here all my life, and intend to die here, apocalypse or no apocalypse.”

“Is your wife around?” Vince took another gulp and placed the cup on the floor, by his feet.

Quint shook his head. “Nah, dead,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” Vince was taken aback by his calm and cold manner. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Quint snickered. “She was a fucking nag. Had to kill her myself a couple of months ago.”

“Was she bitten?” David asked, but young Stephanie remained quiet.

Quint shook his head. “We had an argument. Things got a little heated and she said that my dick was much smaller than her ex’s. So I took out my shotgun and shot her in the head, right over there.” He pointed at the large stain in the corner of the living room, near an archaic-looking lamp.

Vince took in a deep breath and sat back, then a shocked David and Stephanie, who were sitting inbetween Vince, leaned forwards and gazed at one another with wide eyes.

“I’m only kidding.” Quint burst into hysterics, making Vince relax immediately. “You wanna see your face.” He pointed at David. “You look like you’ve just burst in on your mother being spit roasted by the postman.

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