The Undead World (Book 6): The Apocalypse Exile (War of The Undead) by Peter Meredith Page A
Authors: Peter Meredith
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
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two quick shots and then leaned dangerously out over the reaching hands of the zombies to shut it—all the while clutching Eve to her breast. The door was shut for barely a second before she saw the handle turn. Shoving the gun under her leg, she reached out and grabbed the handle. There was a shot behind her. It was a tinny sound and she guessed that Joslyn had used the .25.
There were more gunshots cracking the air outside. As Sadie strained one-handed to hold the door closed she had a perfect view of the side mirror. In it, she could see the last truck reversing down the road, heading toward the large warehouse. Veronica was in the passenger seat, blasting back the beasts with a shotgun. She looked desperate and afraid, but all Sadie could think was that they were abandoning her as well. Just as Neil had.
But did it matter whether or not they left? The side mirror also showed her that the zombies were piled so high they were at the height of the tailgate and were climbing up into the bed. There was a fierce battle going on back there to keep them at bay, while upfront, both doors were being assaulted. Sadie glanced back at Michael. He should’ve been doing something about getting the truck freed but he was red in the face, straining to keep his door from being pulled open.
The only person who seemed to be doing nothing was Joslyn. She sat between Michael and Sadie completely useless. “Take... the...baby,” Sadie gasped.
At first Joslyn appeared shocked and slightly appalled at the idea of handling Eve, but when Sadie added: “Now, you stupid cow!” she put down her little gun and took the infant, holding her like a man might.
“We’re fucked,” Joslyn said.
It appeared so, Sadie thought, as she witnessed the first of the zombies climb onto the hood of the five-ton. It didn’t hesitate. It threw itself at the windshield, thumping the glass with it fists and snarling like a rabid dog. A second zombie joined it a few moments later and the glass shook under their blows.
Sadie’s hands began to ache with the strain of pulling on the door handle for so long. She wouldn’t be able to last. If only Neil and Grey and Jilly were here , she thought. Neil wasn’t the smartest, or the toughest, or even the bravest, but he always came through, somehow. And Grey would’ve been able to fight off the zombies and drive the truck at the same time. And Jillybean would’ve been able to figure out a way to lock doors that had no locks and she would’ve been able to fulcrum the truck right off the pile of undead.
Sadie couldn’t do anything of those things. All she had was her guts and her quickness.
Her hand tired and the door handle slipped out of her sweaty grip. The door flung wide. Dozens of clawed and diseased hands reached for her, but she was too fast. Sadie grabbed up her Glock in a blur and fired five-six-seven times. She could’ve fired a hundred times and it wouldn’t have made all that much difference, but seven was enough to clear the door. Before the beasts could recover, she leaned out over them and pulled the door inward.
An arm was in the way, keeping the door from closing. Sadie kicked at it, however more hands and fingers reached up under the edge and began to pry the door back open again. “Son of a bitch!” she hissed and then let the door open a little more and fired through the crack. Four bullets were enough to clear the door. Those were four bullets that she desperately needed. The Glock had started with a load of fifteen; she had four shots left and another fourteen in a spare clip in her back pocket—that was it. Nineteen rounds. It wasn’t nearly enough.
Fearing she wouldn’t have time later, she dug out the full spare and switched out clips. She had just slapped the spare clip in place when there was a renewed scrabbling of claws on the door and she saw the handle begin to turn once more. She grabbed it with both hands.
Now, a crack appeared on the corner of the windshield. The
There were more gunshots cracking the air outside. As Sadie strained one-handed to hold the door closed she had a perfect view of the side mirror. In it, she could see the last truck reversing down the road, heading toward the large warehouse. Veronica was in the passenger seat, blasting back the beasts with a shotgun. She looked desperate and afraid, but all Sadie could think was that they were abandoning her as well. Just as Neil had.
But did it matter whether or not they left? The side mirror also showed her that the zombies were piled so high they were at the height of the tailgate and were climbing up into the bed. There was a fierce battle going on back there to keep them at bay, while upfront, both doors were being assaulted. Sadie glanced back at Michael. He should’ve been doing something about getting the truck freed but he was red in the face, straining to keep his door from being pulled open.
The only person who seemed to be doing nothing was Joslyn. She sat between Michael and Sadie completely useless. “Take... the...baby,” Sadie gasped.
At first Joslyn appeared shocked and slightly appalled at the idea of handling Eve, but when Sadie added: “Now, you stupid cow!” she put down her little gun and took the infant, holding her like a man might.
“We’re fucked,” Joslyn said.
It appeared so, Sadie thought, as she witnessed the first of the zombies climb onto the hood of the five-ton. It didn’t hesitate. It threw itself at the windshield, thumping the glass with it fists and snarling like a rabid dog. A second zombie joined it a few moments later and the glass shook under their blows.
Sadie’s hands began to ache with the strain of pulling on the door handle for so long. She wouldn’t be able to last. If only Neil and Grey and Jilly were here , she thought. Neil wasn’t the smartest, or the toughest, or even the bravest, but he always came through, somehow. And Grey would’ve been able to fight off the zombies and drive the truck at the same time. And Jillybean would’ve been able to figure out a way to lock doors that had no locks and she would’ve been able to fulcrum the truck right off the pile of undead.
Sadie couldn’t do anything of those things. All she had was her guts and her quickness.
Her hand tired and the door handle slipped out of her sweaty grip. The door flung wide. Dozens of clawed and diseased hands reached for her, but she was too fast. Sadie grabbed up her Glock in a blur and fired five-six-seven times. She could’ve fired a hundred times and it wouldn’t have made all that much difference, but seven was enough to clear the door. Before the beasts could recover, she leaned out over them and pulled the door inward.
An arm was in the way, keeping the door from closing. Sadie kicked at it, however more hands and fingers reached up under the edge and began to pry the door back open again. “Son of a bitch!” she hissed and then let the door open a little more and fired through the crack. Four bullets were enough to clear the door. Those were four bullets that she desperately needed. The Glock had started with a load of fifteen; she had four shots left and another fourteen in a spare clip in her back pocket—that was it. Nineteen rounds. It wasn’t nearly enough.
Fearing she wouldn’t have time later, she dug out the full spare and switched out clips. She had just slapped the spare clip in place when there was a renewed scrabbling of claws on the door and she saw the handle begin to turn once more. She grabbed it with both hands.
Now, a crack appeared on the corner of the windshield. The
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