Anno Zombus Year 1 (Book 6): June by Dave Rowlands Page B

should have been on guard were busying themselves with some female entertainment, the Dead suddenly found their way into camp and started chewing on people. One had decided that Disciple's hand seemed a likely meal, taking a large chunk out of it as he escaped the carnage. He hadn't stayed to help anybody out, but by that time nobody was left. He saw one other person, a woman, climbing into a suit of motorcycle leathers and helmet, who then ran for all she was worth down the road. A moment later, it clicked. I had known that woman. She had been my friend. Biker. All of a sudden an almost uncontrollable urge to throttle the living shit out of Disciple arose inside me. I choked it back down instead. I could always kill this fucker later.
Disciple had taken advantage of the fact that the Dead were busily devouring his companions to take a meat cleaver and hack off his own arm at the elbow, after building as large a fire as he dared in a small house that was nearby. Then he cauterised the stump by heating up the blade of his cleaver and applying it to the wound. Luckily, he didn't pass out until afterwards.
Unfortunately, when he fell unconscious he also fell forward into the fire. Since then, the Dead would always go for anyone else before him. If he were alone, sure, they would attack him on sight, but were he with anyone else they preferred another meal. Laughing dryly, he suggested that they didn't like him because he'd managed to partially cook himself.
    When he finally came to, he found himself in the awkward position of having to use his own severed arm as bait to lure the few Dead that had managed to wander into his location out into the rain, so that he could secure the building he had crawled into, where he remained, silently watching as our group came through after the rains finally stopped. He had recognised me, he said, straight away. On the other hand, he also saw that we had adopted Biker into our group. She would have had a few things to say about him, so he chose to keep quiet. After that, he found his way into the same group of bandits that had shot at us as we drove past in the Greyhound.
Almost perfectly synchronised with the end of Disciple's story, the train came to a stop at the station. “End of the line, boys,” Disciple said, and we clambered out from the train car, making camp on the platform for the night. Jarhead recommended that we keep a watch out, just in case, though it seemed unlikely that there was anything dangerous out there. I agreed.
June 16 th Year 1 A.Z.
morning
The next morning found us whole and unmolested by Dead or any other kind of mutated fauna or flora. Disciple wanted to get a move on immediately, but Jarhead and I had different ideas. We wouldn't get anywhere near any of The Bosses without information, after all, and Jarhead wanted to know where we could find some.
    Disciple simply shrugged, saying that as far as he knew they were all holed up in Brisbane somewhere. Much, if not all, of Queensland was now part of The Empire, though they had found few of these facilities, if Disciple was to be believed. Hoping that this one was clear, of both Living and Dead, we moved out from the train station, climbing the stairs to the elevator. The elevator which, for some reason, had power running to it.
    We rode the lift up as far as it would go, weapons at the ready as the doors slid open. Nothing. The corridor was perfectly well lit, but there was no sign of any activity. Calling out carefully, we advanced along the corridor, glancing through every doorway we came across. Still nothing.
Investigating the armoury and stasis chambers we resupplied, carrying as much as we were physically able to. There was no way of knowing how long we were going to be out here, in unfamiliar, hostile territory. The plan was to get in, kill The Bosses, get out alive again and fuck off back to Alice Facility. One thing I have always hated about plans; they rarely go according to plan... I could only hope that