Dead Series (Book 3): A Little More Alive by Sean Thomas Fisher Page A

shit, that was so close,” he panted, nodding at Paul. “Unlock
me, man. Please.”
    Paul let a small
key dangle from his fingertips and checked his six. “If I unlock you, you back
me up on every plan I bring to the table from here on out.” His gaze tightened with
his jaw. “And I mean every plan.”
    Billy nodded
vehemently. “I will. I swear to God.”
    Paul studied him
for a long moment, trying to see into his soul, trying to find the reins.
    “Every plan, Paul!
I will.”
    “Turn around,” he
said, unlocking the handcuffs and slipping them back onto his belt.
    Billy rubbed his
wrists, looking all around. “Where’s my gun?”
    “I don’t know.”
Paul knelt down and pulled a handgun from the camouflaged holster strapped to
the dead man lying at their feet. He handed it to Billy but didn’t let go. “You
better be cool, Billy.”
    Billy’s fingers
coiled around the grips. “I got your back. I do.”
    He let go and
Billy popped the magazine, examined it and slapped it back in before racking a
load and pointing the gun at Paul’s face. Instinctively, Paul unsheathed his
sidearm and aimed for Billy’s nose. “The fuck you doing?!”
    Billy tucked his
chin into his chest. “Get down!”
    Paul ducked and
Billy fired a round over his head. Spinning, Paul saw an elderly lady hit the
tiles with a double thud that rattled the pots and pans on the wire shelf.
Blood, thick and tar-like, ran from a hole beneath her hairnet to the floor.
The white apron tied around her blue dress was covered in red handprints and
gave Paul the chills. He looked up from her bloodstained rubber gloves to meet
Billy’s wide eyes. “Thanks.”
    Billy nodded and
followed him out into the cafeteria where at least a dozen corpses were still
on their feet. Outside of a man wearing an electric company coat – caught in
the wrong place at the wrong time – the dead were all military and all hungry
as hell.
    “Paul!”
    He turned to find
Rebecca leaning against a wall, trying to hold the veins and tendons inside her
bleeding wrist.
    “One of them got
me!”
    Before he could
respond with something that didn’t even matter, someone grabbed him around the
neck. He could smell the rot on the person’s breath just before his windpipe
closed. Could feel the bone poking through the fingertips digging into his skin.
A gunshot rang out, so loud it doubled his vision. Ears muffling, he turned to
see Billy lower his newly acquired weapon. He gave Paul a quick wink before
turning and shooting two older officers about to rip into Curtis. Curtis stared
at Billy with a beleaguered look wrenching his face, momentarily paralyzed
until Stephanie’s cry for help pulled him across the room.

Chapter Seven

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    P aul and Curtis stared up at the ceiling, studying the vent
door hanging from its hinges in the women’s restroom. Amazement pulled on their
faces like gravity because this was just as impossible as everything else.
Corpses walking the Earth. Sophia dead. And stragglers using the ventilation system
to access the mess hall. It was a recipe for depression if ever there was one
but they didn’t have time for distractions like grief and crying. Not with this
mess on their hands.
    Paul’s eyes fell
to the dead woman crumpled in front of the double sinks. “They’re getting smarter.”
    “Yeah, but the real
question is, how smart will they get?” Curtis whispered, afraid more were still
up there.
    His gaze rose to
the broken vent again. It was so surreal, it took his brain a few clicks to
catch up with his vision. “Looks like it gave under their weight. They got
lucky this time.”
    “When they start
wearing night vision goggles, we’re really screwed.”
    “The good news is,
I bet they actually have some of those in the armory we can put to good use.”
    “Some RPGs would
be nice.”
    “We take everything
we can carry at dawn, grab some quick target practice right by the truck, and get
the hell out of