The Zombie Wars: The Enemy Within (White Flag Of The Dead Book 8) by Joseph Talluto

marked that look and swore to himself that if he ever had the chance, he’d make her pay for it.  After he took care of her old man.
    “Now what are you going to do, Tibbles? You shoot me, my father will chase you across the country to kill you,” Carson said.
    “That’s true, and I don’t really have it in me to kill the son of a man I considered my friend,” Darnell said.  “But I don’t have too much trouble keeping him locked up for a while to give us a head start.” Darnell pointed the gun at the guard shack and motioned for Carson to get inside. He sent his daughter get some small rocks and sticks.
    When she returned, Darnell had his daughter cover the door while he secured the door with the rocks and sticks.  Several sticks jammed in between the door and the frame was almost as good as a lock. Rocks jammed under the door worked just as well.
    Carson watched from the small window, cursing at the pair the entire time.  When he ran out of threats, he went over to swearing again, and then back to threats. 
    When he was done, Darnell spoke to Carson. “You can break out of here in about an hour, and then go running to your daddy.  When you do, tell him I said not to follow me.  It will go badly if I am followed.  Leave me alone, and I’ll not tell that army out there where to find you,” he said.  “You understand, you big pile of stupid?” Darnell didn’t need to insult the man, but he’d swallowed enough from this punk to last a lifetime.
    Carson answered by hitting the doorframe, rattling the shack.  He cursed incoherently again.
    “Let’s go, Alison.  The door will give way in about twenty minutes, and we need that time to get past the fence.” Darnell picked his pack up, and the two headed east again.  Darnell knew he was taking a huge risk, but there was nothing for him here anymore.  Besides, with the way Carson and Cole were starting to act, Darnell was pretty sure more people might be looking for a change of scenery. 
    Hand in hand, Darnell and his daughter walked away from their home into uncertainty.  Darnell had a plan, and if everything went well, he’d have his daughter safe within a few weeks.
    If not, well, he had a plan for that, too.

Springfield, MO
     
    “Raise your hand if you like Missouri,” Tommy said out loud to no one in particular.
    “See? No one likes it here,” Duncan said.
    “You didn’t even bother to see if anyone raised their hands,” I complained.
    “I didn’t have to.  This place is the pits. Trees, dirt roads, and God alone knowing what might be living in those homes we passed.  How hard did the moron who called these tracks of dirt ‘roads’ hit his head before thinking it was a good idea?” Tommy said petulantly.  “Anyone? What a mess.”
    “Not being one to point out the obvious,” I said, daring Duncan to contradict me with an evil glare in his direction, “but weren’t you the one with the map who declared this the best, most direct route through the state?”
    “I will take partial blame for that, yes,” Tommy said, steering around another fallen tree.  “But I think another part of the blame lies with the man who was born here who chose to fall asleep when I was asking for directions!”
    Three pairs of eyes descended upon Charlie’s bulk as he dozed in the other captain’s chair of the van we were using to scout ahead of the army.  It was a wonder he didn’t awake screaming from the scorch marks our eyes were trying to burn into him. To be charitable, he had been up all night. A zombie child had made it through our picket lines, and after the securing of people in their homes, Charlie went hunting.  In the morning he finally came out of the weeds dragging a dead zombie.  So while I could curse him for his directions, I wasn’t going to wake him up to chastise him for it.
    We’d cleared out Jefferson City and Columbia a week ago, and I had sent half of the remaining army to follow Interstate 44 and work on clearing