Carlie Simmons (Book 3): The Way Back by JT Sawyer Page B

said Jared.
“I’ll make sure you have some heated slippers after we arrive there.”
    Amy used her right hand to simulate
cranking a pulley on her left hand as her middle finger rose up.
    “Alright, everyone is in. Outstanding,”
said Carlie as she glanced around the room, letting out a stilted smile. “Now
all we have to do is get past a beach full of zombies, procure that helicopter,
and obtain a deck of cards for the long trip back.”

 
    Chapter 12
    Eliza and Willis had run for nearly an
hour, darting past abandoned homes and cattle-loading stations while making
numerous evasive moves in their retreat until they were sure the slow-moving
crowd of zombies was unaware of their location.
    The sun was hanging low in the western sky
as they made their way to a lone farmhouse below a set of massive weeping
willow trees. The knelt down beside a propane tank and examined the layout and
windows for any movement. When Willis was certain the path ahead was relatively
safe, he motioned for Eliza to follow him around the rear.
    He entered the two-story almond-colored
house through the unlocked back door and swept through each room on the first
floor. They made their way upstairs and found each room to be immaculate, with
even the beds made. A layer of fine dust was on the furniture and there was
evidence that a family of mice had taken over the bathroom.
    “I’m gonna go outside and see if the
circuit breakers are on or if there’s a generator we can use,” said Willis. “Why
don’t you look around for food and candles. It’s gonna be dark in another half
hour.”
    She nodded and then followed him
downstairs. She went through the kitchen cupboards and found some cans of soup,
beans, and cat food. As she stood up from under the kitchen sink she felt a
hand on her shoulder.
    “I didn’t find much but there are….” She
turned and saw the ulcerated face of a stout creature in coveralls pawing at
her face. She shoved the large figure back but its overgrown fingernails gashed
her across the left cheek. Eliza frantically raised up her rifle and pulled the
trigger but nothing happened. She glanced down at the weapon, trying to find
the safety as the large beast rushed at her. Eliza screamed out for Willis and
then clumsily sidestepped over to the fridge. She searched for the fixed blade
on her belt and yanked it free from its nylon sheath.
    The zombie snapped its crusty black teeth
as it resumed its frontal assault, its arms flailing wildly. Eliza felt herself
nearly hyperventilating as her vision narrowed and a feeling of nausea welled
up in her stomach. She squeezed her eyes closed and drove the blade forward
into the creature’s throat. Then she looked at it and saw it was still
thrashing. The rest seemed to happen in slow motion—her hand pulling out the
blade and thrusting it in again and again and again. She felt her fear turn
into a furious wildfire inside her and she moved forward, hacking the beast as
she let out a feral scream. The zombie’s predatory growls gave way to a
gurgling sound as its head separated from its body and it tumbled back onto a
chair, shattering it. 
    Eliza stood over the decapitated figure
and started kicking the lifeless corpse in the ribs as tears ran down her face,
stinging the parallel wounds on her cheek. She thought of her father and then
saw General Adams’ face as she continued kicking the zombie, wondering if she
was living through someone else’s nightmare.
    As her leg grew tired, she stopped and
barely noticed Willis standing to her left with his rifle at a low-ready. She
saw him gazing at the headless figure and then back at her, then down at her
blood-stained knife. She felt her iron grip upon the blade waver and then
looked at him as tears continued to fall. Eliza let the weapon slide out of her
hand onto the marble-colored floor. Willis moved up and held her, the rage
having burnt out of her. She tried to slow her raspy breathing but finally
succumbed to the narrowing