Z-Risen (Book 1): Outbreak by Timothy Long

Author:Timothy Long
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2013-11-28T05:00:00+00:00

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15:45 hours approximate

Location: Undead Central, San Diego CA – Roz’s Place

Joel snoozed in my chair for an hour. I took the time to eat and drink as much as my gut could handle.

It was glorious.

Roz was busy pacing the living room. She walked to the front door and then back to the windows that faced the yard. I took the opportunity to check out her ass in a pair of grey sweat pants that seemed molded to her body. I’m glad she didn’t catch me. I’m pretty sure she’d have no issue with sticking her shotgun up my ass. Roz peeked out every few minutes. After a while she must have made up her mind to do whatever she needed to do, because she woke Joel up and asked for cover.

Joel popped up like a Marine Jack-in-the-Box, snapped up his assault rifle, and did a quick ammo check. He nodded at Roz and followed her to the door.

“What’s she doing?” I asked Joel.

“Her father.”

“Oh,” I said, and lost whatever little bit of a good mood I’d had a few minutes ago. No kid should have to bury their own parent.

“Should I help?”

“I don’t think so. She looks determined to do it herself. Why don’t you keep watch out the back.”

Roz went into the open garage and dragged out an old carpet. She took the piece to her Dad's body and rolled him onto it. Smart. That way she could drag him easier, and it also created a sort of burial cover.

I went to the back of the house and peeked through a window. This was Roz’s room and we’d been forbidden from entering it. I had a feeling she wouldn’t mind since we were protecting her.

She wasn’t the neatest girl. There were clothes in piles all around the room. Shirts and dresses hung from a homemade wire rack that ran the length of the room. Dresses? That was the last thing I expected to see Roz in. After a few minutes it hit me. What else was she supposed to do with her clothes? There sure as hell wasn’t any way to wash them in our new world.

The back room’s windows were boarded up but a couple of spy holes offered me a limited view of the world outside the house. Dried up shrubs, a road littered with discarded crap. Broken furniture and empty suitcases. Someone’s sports jacket baked in the sun next to a pair of white broken white sunglasses. The only things missing were a few shamblers.

In salute to the dead world I lifted a plastic wrapper, tore it open, and munched on a protein bar. Then I sipped a bottle of water. The only thing that would make this better was an ice-cold beer, but the lone brew we’d saved from our beer-run a few days ago was probably in the coffers of whoever the fuck ransacked our place.

It was early but already hot inside the little brick house. It may be seventy five at the hottest out there, but once the place gets warm it stays that way.

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