Live (NOLA Zombie Book 3) by Gillian Zane Page A
Authors: Gillian Zane
Tags: Zombies & Romance
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pissed and miserable I might have joined in on the festivities. “Y’all are the dumbest cagers I ever met, you let a fucking bitch take out your brothers?” He eyed me and didn’t look impressed with my mad killer skills. Good .
“She’s tough,” U1 said, but he looked embarrassed.
“Take her fucking cuffs off. When we get to base make her look good or Brandon ain’t giving you shit. He don’t want anymore bitches, only quality pussy. And what the fuck is wrong with that one? She’s injured, she’s not fucking bit is she?” He backed up a step, fear evident on his face. It was good to see that these bikers had a healthy fear of the zombies.
U2 pulled tiny keys out of his pocket and pulled me to him violently. “Nah, she ain’t bit, this one here stabbed her. I told you, ya gotta look out for her. She’s a crazy bitch.” He unlatched my cuffs and I had the sudden urge to let him see just how crazy I was, but I was outmatched and underdressed. The two bikers were armed to the teeth and I was wearing nothing but this stupid fucking dress. I had to come up with a new plan of attack. The first step was to make them think I was harmless. Harmless meant no cuffs. Harmless meant they would only see me as an object and not something to be wary of. Harmless meant potential escape.
I rubbed my wrists, wincing like it hurt much worse than it did. Then I pulled my skirt down and patted at my crazy hair, trying to get it into some order. I looked up and met the bigger biker’s eyes and he smirked at me. I wanted to growl and attack him, but I held myself back. Pitiful, I had to look pitiful.
“She’s a pretty thing, Clem, Brandon’s gonna be pleased and since you’re my contact, that means I get a cut. Don’t fucking mention she killed your men though, if he hears that he’ll get paranoid.” He looked over at Clara. “Don’t know if you’re gonna get much for this injured one though. Limping and ugly ain’t a good sale. You might want to just take her back with ya. Y’all don't have any women, do you?”
“I gotta get something, we need food, Mom’s gonna kill us if we come back without our fair share. She’ll look good when ya clean her up, one of those girls that looks better with a bit of lipstick slapped on her.”
“Take ‘em in, Spider.” He leered at me and swatted at my ass as I followed Spider , who looked more like a cockroach than any arachnid. He led us to a truck parked at the side of the road, U2 pushed at my back as I slowly trudged my way over. I wasn’t going to hurry my ass for this.
“Get in the back,” Spider growled and U2 practically picked me up and threw me in the back, climbing up behind me, his large bulk causing the truck to dip down.
U1 yanked at Clara to get moving and had to practically throw her into the back of the truck next to me. She scrambled as far away from everyone as possible as soon as she got up onto her hands and knees. The biker, Spider, got behind the wheel and pulled off without allowing us to orient ourselves, squealing the tires and slamming us around in the unsecured, cold bed of the truck.
It took us only two minutes to make the trek from the canal to their base, if you could call it that. It was a shoddily put together base of operations if I’ve ever seen one. There was a temporary fence haphazardly put together around a large parking lot. Campfires burned throughout the main thoroughfare and men of all ages milled about. Some were cooking and some were chopping wood, but others looked to be just talking and socializing. Out of the maybe forty or so men, only about ten of them looked to be visibly armed.
I noticed immediately that it was the ones that wore leather and had the MC colors emblazoned on their jackets that were packing. I also noticed a trailer in the corner of the lot that seemed to be under heavy guard and was leaking some kind of smoke from a vent in the top.
I took solace in
“She’s tough,” U1 said, but he looked embarrassed.
“Take her fucking cuffs off. When we get to base make her look good or Brandon ain’t giving you shit. He don’t want anymore bitches, only quality pussy. And what the fuck is wrong with that one? She’s injured, she’s not fucking bit is she?” He backed up a step, fear evident on his face. It was good to see that these bikers had a healthy fear of the zombies.
U2 pulled tiny keys out of his pocket and pulled me to him violently. “Nah, she ain’t bit, this one here stabbed her. I told you, ya gotta look out for her. She’s a crazy bitch.” He unlatched my cuffs and I had the sudden urge to let him see just how crazy I was, but I was outmatched and underdressed. The two bikers were armed to the teeth and I was wearing nothing but this stupid fucking dress. I had to come up with a new plan of attack. The first step was to make them think I was harmless. Harmless meant no cuffs. Harmless meant they would only see me as an object and not something to be wary of. Harmless meant potential escape.
I rubbed my wrists, wincing like it hurt much worse than it did. Then I pulled my skirt down and patted at my crazy hair, trying to get it into some order. I looked up and met the bigger biker’s eyes and he smirked at me. I wanted to growl and attack him, but I held myself back. Pitiful, I had to look pitiful.
“She’s a pretty thing, Clem, Brandon’s gonna be pleased and since you’re my contact, that means I get a cut. Don’t fucking mention she killed your men though, if he hears that he’ll get paranoid.” He looked over at Clara. “Don’t know if you’re gonna get much for this injured one though. Limping and ugly ain’t a good sale. You might want to just take her back with ya. Y’all don't have any women, do you?”
“I gotta get something, we need food, Mom’s gonna kill us if we come back without our fair share. She’ll look good when ya clean her up, one of those girls that looks better with a bit of lipstick slapped on her.”
“Take ‘em in, Spider.” He leered at me and swatted at my ass as I followed Spider , who looked more like a cockroach than any arachnid. He led us to a truck parked at the side of the road, U2 pushed at my back as I slowly trudged my way over. I wasn’t going to hurry my ass for this.
“Get in the back,” Spider growled and U2 practically picked me up and threw me in the back, climbing up behind me, his large bulk causing the truck to dip down.
U1 yanked at Clara to get moving and had to practically throw her into the back of the truck next to me. She scrambled as far away from everyone as possible as soon as she got up onto her hands and knees. The biker, Spider, got behind the wheel and pulled off without allowing us to orient ourselves, squealing the tires and slamming us around in the unsecured, cold bed of the truck.
It took us only two minutes to make the trek from the canal to their base, if you could call it that. It was a shoddily put together base of operations if I’ve ever seen one. There was a temporary fence haphazardly put together around a large parking lot. Campfires burned throughout the main thoroughfare and men of all ages milled about. Some were cooking and some were chopping wood, but others looked to be just talking and socializing. Out of the maybe forty or so men, only about ten of them looked to be visibly armed.
I noticed immediately that it was the ones that wore leather and had the MC colors emblazoned on their jackets that were packing. I also noticed a trailer in the corner of the lot that seemed to be under heavy guard and was leaking some kind of smoke from a vent in the top.
I took solace in
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