Dead World (Book 1): Dead Come Home by Nathan Brown, Fox Robert
Authors: Nathan Brown, Fox Robert
Tags: Zombies
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his tears fell to the ground.
“You fucking sonuvabitch! I said I didn’t want to do this anymore! I was supposed to find peace! HOW CAN I FIND PEACE NOW?!”
Mike wiped the tears from his eyes, got to his feet, and went back to the vehicle. He looked over at the bag in the passenger seat, hesitating briefly before pulling the zipper open. Inside he found a .44 Magnum Desert Eagle with 3 full clips, two emergency traffic flares, a road atlas, Maglight , and cell phone. He flipped the phone open and the screen came to light, saying that there was one unanswered text message. He pushed view and the message came up.
Now you got a cell phone. Just don’t forget to fucking use it. See you at my place soon enough. –HH.
“All this shit,” Mike chuckled, sniffling, as he hit the reply button. “And he’s still a fuckin’ smartass.” He typed in his reply message.
Thanks for the wheels, smartass. Ma and I will see you soon. Try not to get dead. Also … DB at UMAS … mea culpa … send fixer if able.
Hanse knew enough of Mike’s personal code language to understand the last bit—“ Also … Dead Body at Unmanned Airstrip ... and I killed him … so send someone to deal with the body if you can. ”
* * *
Decatur was all flashing lights. Joseph stopped on the shoulder of 380 about a quarter a mile before the exit for Highway 287. He opened the door and stood up to get a little better view. Highway patrol and fire department vehicles and ambulances had blocked off all four lanes of traffic just south of the on ramp from 380. Nothing was going to get past the six-car pile-up they were working on anytime soon.
From the looks of things, a tractor-trailer tried to stop when somebody cut it off. The truck jack-knifed and a car or three slammed into the broad side of the trailer. Somehow or another one of the cars crossed the median into southbound traffic. A car and a small Nisan pickup plowed into the black car, reducing it to a cracker sized hunk of mangled metal.
Paramedics worked desperately to save the people in the recognizable cars in the southbound lanes. Highway Patrol officers draped sheets over the occupants of the two cars in the North bound and the cube that was once a car. The truck driver was sitting up on a gurney waiting to go to the hospital for a routine check.
Joseph got back into his car and strapped himself in. Most of the officers weren’t looking in Joseph’s direction. The accident was actually about 20 yards south of where 380 joined up with 287. Joseph dropped the car into gear. He eased up the sharp triple-curved exit from 380, pointed his car north, and gunned it.
The officers looked up but had no interest in attempting to chase Joseph. Joseph watched them go back to working the accident in his rearview mirror. There was nothing but a straight shot between him and Wichita Falls, where he would have to come up with a new plan. He didn’t really have enough money for a hotel and he didn’t know anyone in Wichita Falls, but it would give him half a chance to assess the situation.
Christ, I hope I didn’t panic over nothing. Fuck, I killed Ryan.
* * *
An ache of concern swelled in Mike’s chest with increasing intensity. With every passing moment, the minor worry for Ma’s safety with which he’d left DFW Airport had now grown into a blinding panic to get to her. The red tinge of blood on Mike’s olive green T-shirt constantly reminded him of those dead eyes, those gnashing teeth, and that bloody stump of an arm.
My god, I can’t believe I didn’t see it at first! His hand was torn completely off … and it wasn’t even spurting blood!
This had led him to consider his earlier conversation with Hanse.
… we got drunk on cheap beer and about a gallon of Cuervo and watched all those zombie movies. They were made by some guy that G-Love just couldn’t shut the fuck up about … do you remember?
Yeah … George
“You fucking sonuvabitch! I said I didn’t want to do this anymore! I was supposed to find peace! HOW CAN I FIND PEACE NOW?!”
Mike wiped the tears from his eyes, got to his feet, and went back to the vehicle. He looked over at the bag in the passenger seat, hesitating briefly before pulling the zipper open. Inside he found a .44 Magnum Desert Eagle with 3 full clips, two emergency traffic flares, a road atlas, Maglight , and cell phone. He flipped the phone open and the screen came to light, saying that there was one unanswered text message. He pushed view and the message came up.
Now you got a cell phone. Just don’t forget to fucking use it. See you at my place soon enough. –HH.
“All this shit,” Mike chuckled, sniffling, as he hit the reply button. “And he’s still a fuckin’ smartass.” He typed in his reply message.
Thanks for the wheels, smartass. Ma and I will see you soon. Try not to get dead. Also … DB at UMAS … mea culpa … send fixer if able.
Hanse knew enough of Mike’s personal code language to understand the last bit—“ Also … Dead Body at Unmanned Airstrip ... and I killed him … so send someone to deal with the body if you can. ”
* * *
Decatur was all flashing lights. Joseph stopped on the shoulder of 380 about a quarter a mile before the exit for Highway 287. He opened the door and stood up to get a little better view. Highway patrol and fire department vehicles and ambulances had blocked off all four lanes of traffic just south of the on ramp from 380. Nothing was going to get past the six-car pile-up they were working on anytime soon.
From the looks of things, a tractor-trailer tried to stop when somebody cut it off. The truck jack-knifed and a car or three slammed into the broad side of the trailer. Somehow or another one of the cars crossed the median into southbound traffic. A car and a small Nisan pickup plowed into the black car, reducing it to a cracker sized hunk of mangled metal.
Paramedics worked desperately to save the people in the recognizable cars in the southbound lanes. Highway Patrol officers draped sheets over the occupants of the two cars in the North bound and the cube that was once a car. The truck driver was sitting up on a gurney waiting to go to the hospital for a routine check.
Joseph got back into his car and strapped himself in. Most of the officers weren’t looking in Joseph’s direction. The accident was actually about 20 yards south of where 380 joined up with 287. Joseph dropped the car into gear. He eased up the sharp triple-curved exit from 380, pointed his car north, and gunned it.
The officers looked up but had no interest in attempting to chase Joseph. Joseph watched them go back to working the accident in his rearview mirror. There was nothing but a straight shot between him and Wichita Falls, where he would have to come up with a new plan. He didn’t really have enough money for a hotel and he didn’t know anyone in Wichita Falls, but it would give him half a chance to assess the situation.
Christ, I hope I didn’t panic over nothing. Fuck, I killed Ryan.
* * *
An ache of concern swelled in Mike’s chest with increasing intensity. With every passing moment, the minor worry for Ma’s safety with which he’d left DFW Airport had now grown into a blinding panic to get to her. The red tinge of blood on Mike’s olive green T-shirt constantly reminded him of those dead eyes, those gnashing teeth, and that bloody stump of an arm.
My god, I can’t believe I didn’t see it at first! His hand was torn completely off … and it wasn’t even spurting blood!
This had led him to consider his earlier conversation with Hanse.
… we got drunk on cheap beer and about a gallon of Cuervo and watched all those zombie movies. They were made by some guy that G-Love just couldn’t shut the fuck up about … do you remember?
Yeah … George
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