Love & the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1, Zombie Apocalypse Trilogy) by Chelsea Bellingeri Page A
Authors: Chelsea Bellingeri
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her. He would’ve hopped off on the zombie side, too, if she’d fallen there.
She whispered something, but he couldn’t concentrate. Her hair fell from the bun on top of her head. It hung in messy blonde strands around her face.
Rachel blinked .
“What?” Cage asked.
“I said, cops.” She pointed at the flashing sirens about ten houses down.
“That’s great ,” Cage said. “They’ll have a first aid kit for your arm. Are you sure you can walk?”
Rachel peered at the wound. “I can walk. Excellent doctoring skills, Cage Vance.”
“ I’m not going to point out that you’re still calling me by my first and last name.”
“Habits are hard to break.” She walked over the lawn and down the street, limping slightly.
Habits? How many times had she said his name be fore? The idea of Rachel saying his name thrilled him, which was surprising because he’d only known her for a few hours. He trotted into the street after her, resisting the urge to pick her up and carry her. He didn’t like seeing her limp, but he was pretty sure she would hit him if he tried to pick her up.
The pulsating red and blue sirens illuminated the street in an unworldly glow. Cage didn’t see anyone, but there was – at least earlier – a police presence in the neighborhood. Had the cops answered an early emergency call? If so, where were all of the officers now?
The immediate silence on the street was unsettling. Where was everybody? No zombies. No humans. No cops. Gunshots crackled in the distance and sirens wailed, but nothing remotely close by. Mini-battles were being waged all over the city. Would more police show up? Would military reinforcements arrive?
Rachel and Cage closed in on three police cars. Two of them were the older model Ford Crown Victoria’s; the third was the newer Dodge Charger. All three cars had their lights flashing, but the sirens were off. One of the patrol car’s doors was opened. Surely, that wasn’t protocol. The interior light lit the dashboard and radio, but the car was empty.
“Do you see anyone?” Cage whispered. The scene didn’t feel right.
Rachel walked around the car parked near the curb. She knelt down and disappeared behind the hood. He ran to catch up with her.
She was leaning over the body of a police officer. He was a middle aged black man with thick dark hair. It was so hot out that his body was already bloated and smelling of rot.
“Be careful, he might turn. ”
“No,” Rachel pointed. “He has a gunshot wound to the head. I don’t think he’ll come back.”
“Do you think he did it himself?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.” Rachel groped the officer’s belt.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting us better weapons.” She pulled out the sleek Smith and Wesson M&P .45. Cage knew the Flint Police Officers’ standard issue gun because his friend’s dad was a cop and guns were all he ever talked about. Rachel also grabbed the extra clip and Taser from the dead officer.
“Do you know how to use a gun?”
“No,” Rachel said. “But the end of the world seems like a good time to learn.”
Cage couldn’t argu e with that logic.
She re ached into the officer’s pocket and tossed a cell phone to Cage. “Didn’t you need one of these?”
The tiny blue phone was like a spring of water in the desert – exactly what he needed and what he thought he’d never get. Relie f flooded over him. He dialed his house, but then he stopped. “Wait. Don’t you want to call your sister first?”
Rachel’s face paled in the flashing blue light. “I don’t have the number to Morgan’s dorm room.” She abruptly stood up and walked away.
Cage dialed his house. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach as he counted the rings. Six. Ten. Thirteen rings. No answer.
H is palms were sweaty. He clicked off the
She whispered something, but he couldn’t concentrate. Her hair fell from the bun on top of her head. It hung in messy blonde strands around her face.
Rachel blinked .
“What?” Cage asked.
“I said, cops.” She pointed at the flashing sirens about ten houses down.
“That’s great ,” Cage said. “They’ll have a first aid kit for your arm. Are you sure you can walk?”
Rachel peered at the wound. “I can walk. Excellent doctoring skills, Cage Vance.”
“ I’m not going to point out that you’re still calling me by my first and last name.”
“Habits are hard to break.” She walked over the lawn and down the street, limping slightly.
Habits? How many times had she said his name be fore? The idea of Rachel saying his name thrilled him, which was surprising because he’d only known her for a few hours. He trotted into the street after her, resisting the urge to pick her up and carry her. He didn’t like seeing her limp, but he was pretty sure she would hit him if he tried to pick her up.
The pulsating red and blue sirens illuminated the street in an unworldly glow. Cage didn’t see anyone, but there was – at least earlier – a police presence in the neighborhood. Had the cops answered an early emergency call? If so, where were all of the officers now?
The immediate silence on the street was unsettling. Where was everybody? No zombies. No humans. No cops. Gunshots crackled in the distance and sirens wailed, but nothing remotely close by. Mini-battles were being waged all over the city. Would more police show up? Would military reinforcements arrive?
Rachel and Cage closed in on three police cars. Two of them were the older model Ford Crown Victoria’s; the third was the newer Dodge Charger. All three cars had their lights flashing, but the sirens were off. One of the patrol car’s doors was opened. Surely, that wasn’t protocol. The interior light lit the dashboard and radio, but the car was empty.
“Do you see anyone?” Cage whispered. The scene didn’t feel right.
Rachel walked around the car parked near the curb. She knelt down and disappeared behind the hood. He ran to catch up with her.
She was leaning over the body of a police officer. He was a middle aged black man with thick dark hair. It was so hot out that his body was already bloated and smelling of rot.
“Be careful, he might turn. ”
“No,” Rachel pointed. “He has a gunshot wound to the head. I don’t think he’ll come back.”
“Do you think he did it himself?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.” Rachel groped the officer’s belt.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting us better weapons.” She pulled out the sleek Smith and Wesson M&P .45. Cage knew the Flint Police Officers’ standard issue gun because his friend’s dad was a cop and guns were all he ever talked about. Rachel also grabbed the extra clip and Taser from the dead officer.
“Do you know how to use a gun?”
“No,” Rachel said. “But the end of the world seems like a good time to learn.”
Cage couldn’t argu e with that logic.
She re ached into the officer’s pocket and tossed a cell phone to Cage. “Didn’t you need one of these?”
The tiny blue phone was like a spring of water in the desert – exactly what he needed and what he thought he’d never get. Relie f flooded over him. He dialed his house, but then he stopped. “Wait. Don’t you want to call your sister first?”
Rachel’s face paled in the flashing blue light. “I don’t have the number to Morgan’s dorm room.” She abruptly stood up and walked away.
Cage dialed his house. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach as he counted the rings. Six. Ten. Thirteen rings. No answer.
H is palms were sweaty. He clicked off the
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