Life After The Undead (Book 1) by Pembroke Sinclair

family, you get to live with them in the cities.”
    “Are there a lot of people in the cities?”
    “I don’t know. I don ’t think so.”
    “Where are you from?”
    “North Carolina.”
    “How long have you been in Florida?”
    “About ten days.”
    “What do you think is going to happen to us?”
    Ten days was enough time to figure out what was going on. She probably knew something, had some idea what people had planned.
    Pearl picked up her slice of pizza. “Who knows? What we need to worry about now is surviving. We have it pretty good here. The zombies won ’t bother us, and we get to live our lives.”
    “Yeah, but to what end?”
    Pearl stared at me. “Why does there have to be an end? Can’t you be content to be alive?”
    Her question was a little disconcerting , although there was some truth to it. I should be happy to be alive, but we also had to face the fact that everything we knew had changed. Life wasn ’t the same, which meant survival was a whole new game. I cou ld’v e pointed that out to her and probably started an argument, so I decided to keep my mouth shut.
    After we finished, we went into the lobby with several of the other kids and watched Sleeping Beauty . I found it difficult to focus on the film because my mind wandered elsewhere. Florida was a large state, but it surely couldn’t house that many people. And what was the business of the East Coast dealing with zombies for three weeks? That was really troublesome to me. Why hadn ’t there been any warnings? Was someone trying to cover something up? It didn’t make any sense. Even if they played it up as a biological attack, someone would, or should, have done something. How many survived? How many were still out there?
    My mind drifted to the guy on the transport. Was it a coincidence that he suggested we come to Florida, or did he know something? There were so many questions and no answers. It gave me a headache.
    At ten we were all sent to our rooms. I said goodnight to Pearl and then took my shorts off before scooting under the covers. The sheets were stiff and a little scratchy, but they were much more comfortable than my dirty sleeping bag. I clicked off the light. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and saw Mom’s face, her mouth twisted open in a silent scream, blood smeared on her cheeks, and the fleshless hands of zombies that clawed at her skull.
    I gasped and jerked my eyes open. I rolled onto my side and folded my hands under my head. I hadn ’t had any trouble sleeping before because I ’d been so exhausted. When I actually had the chance to relax, I also had time to think. If only we hadn’t gone to the complex. What was Mom thinking? She knew as well as I did that Dad was dead. Did she really expect to find him alive? I curled my hands into fists and clenched my jaw. She ’d still be alive if she hadn ’t been so stupid. She shouldn ’t have left me all alone. What was I supposed to do?
    I sat up in bed and stared at the floor. I wanted to cry, to mourn the loss of my parents, but I was too angry to muster any tears. I felt abandoned and neglected. Worst of all, I felt as if I wasn ’t important. Of all the things they were concerned about, why wasn ’t I their first priority? We should have never separated. I snatched the remote off the nightstand and turned on the TV. Static flickered through the room. I turned it off in disgust and then threw the remote.
    If they’d cared about me at all, I wouldn ’t be in this mess. We ’d all be in Florida together, happy.
    Well, as happy as we could be with zombies roaming the Earth. I stood from the bed and paced the room. Maybe Tanya was right. Maybe we shouldn ’t dwell on it anymore. We can ’t bring them back, and if we could, I ’d tell my parents to go straight to hell.
    How dare they leave me alone!
    I threw myself back on the bed. Eventually, I drifted into a restless sleep. Visions of my mothe r’ s demise projected themselves onto my mind’s eye,