Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict by Joshua Jared Scott Page A

long sleeve button up shirt,” confirmed Morgan. “I think he died at
the start, back in the summer.”
    He tried
to undo the buttons but winced as the skin on his fingers tore.
    “Kenneth,
you’ll have to undress him. I can’t do it.”
    “You
can’t take his clothes,” protested Barbara.
    “We need
whatever we can get. I don’t like it either, but we do.” Kenneth shoved his
hands under his shirt, pressing them into his armpits. “Give me a minute
Morgan, and I’ll try.”
    “There’s
some bottled water too,” said Tamara, “frozen solid. Nothing to eat back here.
A blanket!”
    “Really?”
asked Barbara.
    The older
woman pulled it from a corner. “Looks like a packing one to keep stuff from
getting scratched. It’s pretty thick.”
    “Big
enough for all of us?” inquired Morgan.
    She
nodded slowly. “Should be.”
    “Okay,
everyone strip down to undies and socks.”
    “You
want us to do what?” The words came out in chunks. Barbara’s shivering had not
diminished.
    “We
won’t make it to morning if we don’t warm up. Got to use body heat.”
    Kenneth
pulled off his shoes and set them aside.
    “You
agree?”
    “Just
like huddling in the car back at the house,” he replied, “only a little more
embarrassing.”
    “More
than a little.”
    “Better
than dying.”
    He
helped her undress.
     
    *
* *
     
    They
spent two days in the truck waiting for the storm to break. Then, weak and
hungry, the four dug their way out and began hiking east. There was a brief
debate concerning Chris, but with no ready landmarks and all traces of their
prior passage erased, it was anything but certain that they could find the way.
Also, the odds of him surviving those plunging temperatures alone were slight.
    It was
difficult to follow the road, as it was under several feet of snow, but they
did their best. And the quartet eventually came across other cars, most
abandoned, some wrecked. None would start, but they did find additional
clothing, mostly lightweight summer stuff, along with the occasional tidbit of
food. It was better than nothing, and everything was divided equally.
    Things
grew worse when it became clear that the burns on Morgan’s hands and arms were
infected. The initial, angry red coloring had taken on an even more vivid hue,
with dark blotches appearing underneath. Pus was oozing as well, and he had
grown far weaker than the others, often mumbling to himself without appearing
to be aware of it. A little over a week after the fire, he collapsed in the
snow.
    “Get up
Morgan,” urged Barbara. “You have to. We can’t carry you.”
    They
were still on the open plain with nothing in sight. The road was long gone –
they’d stumbled off it a few days earlier without noticing – and travel had
become increasingly difficult. At best, Kenneth thought they were moving only a
few miles a day. Nights had been spent in the occasional car, when available,
but most of the time they dug a hole in the snow, forming a rough shelter.
    “Go.” He
rolled over onto his back. “Just leave me.”
    “We
can’t do that,” said Tamara, her voice cracking, “not after Chris.”
    The man
closed his eyes, his breathing shallow.
    “Come
along Tamara,” ordered Kenneth.
    “You
can’t leave him here!”
    “Barbara’s
right. We can’t carry him. We can barely walk ourselves.”
    She
began to cry, shaking her head angrily. Barbara and Kenneth left her behind.
     
    *
* *
     
    The pair
eventually stumbled across another road. The snow had lessened, and they found
it easier to move. They also picked up more clothing and found enough food to
keep going. Even so, both were losing weight at a frightening rate, and their
strength never returned. Some of Barbara’s teeth were coming loose too,
probably a result of their horrendous diet. The biggest problem, however, was
the zombies.
    The
things were showing up more and more frequently. Kenneth and Barbara traveled
in silence whenever possible, trying not to speak