Z-Risen (Book 3): Poisoned Earth by Timothy W. Long Page B

head a couple of times.
    Joel helped me to my feet.
    “Wondered where you were, then come to find out you’re back here playing with some new friends.”
    “Fuckers came out of nowhere, man. There was one and then two. After that I lost count.”
    “That’s because they don’t teach squids how to count. You good?”
    I put my arm around him and tested my weight on my leg. It ached but took the pressure, so I took a half step away.
    “Jesus. Look at this mess. Let’s haul ass before more of them come out of that clown car of a building and try to finish us off.”
    Joel chuckled.
    “Gather up the cans and let’s hit it.” Joel grabbed one of the precious cylinders of stew and put it back on the box.
    I grabbed two more and dropped them onto the crate, trying to ignore the blood and gore that were pasted to the sides of the cans. Where’d the last one go?
    A pair of snarls made me forget about it. I grabbed the box, shouldered it, and staggered after Joel.
    We moved around the block, ducked around some wilting hedges, and then stood and ran for it. Well, to be fair, Joel ran; I limped after.
    Moans followed us.
    After a pair of turns, we reached the block where we’d left the RV, came around the corner, and both stopped in our tracks.
    The RV was gone.
    But that wasn’t the worst part. Sniffing around the ground the RV had occupied was a shuffler, and he was surrounded by a half dozen fresh Zs.
     
    ###

13:40 hours approximate
    Location: Vista
     
    The building had been a junkyard, and the Zs were prowling around rusting hulks of cars and car parts. One of the bastards had taken an interest in a bumper and kept nudging it with his foot. That’s not a person, you dumbass zombie.
    We faded back behind the building. I held my breath and waited for the telltale sound of a shuffler’s cry. If he’d spotted us we were going to have to either stand and fight--something I didn’t relish--or run, something I wasn’t going to be so good at.
    Joel didn’t say a word. He carefully lowered his pack and weapons. He leaned them against the house and gestured for me to do the same. I tried to keep the noise down and wasn’t sure if I did a good job. The cans were first, then I had to maneuver a few of the weapons we’d snagged from the house onto the ground. My wrench was next, followed by my pack.
    Joel touched my shoulder and motioned me close.
    “The fuck we gonna do now?” I whispered next to his ear.
    “It’s gonna go down like the old days. You sneak around the back. I’ll shoot a few, starting with that shuffler, in sixty seconds.”
    “Why the hell are we going to take on this bunch? Let’s haul ass and regroup.”
    “There’s a piece of paper taped to the side of the building. I think they left us a message. The girls wouldn’t desert us unless they felt threatened. I think they left behind a clue.”
    “A clue? Been watching too much CSI ?”
    “I ain’t seen a TV in months, ya dumbass,” Joel said.
    I rolled my eyes.
    “So I’m bait and you’re going to shoot them with what?”
    “I have a few rounds for the AR. I can take out the shuffler, but after that it’s going to get tough. You go in swinging and shooting once the shuffler’s down.”
    “What if you miss?”
    “When have I missed?”
    “I don’t know, about fifty times, give or take.”
    It was Joel’s turn to roll his eyes.
    “Fine. We go in shooting, we get eaten, should we leave a note while the shuffler’s eating our brains?” Joel said.
    “Our only other choice is to hide this stuff and then split up. We could each take a direction and try to find the RV. I’m betting they didn’t go far.”
    A shot echoed to the east.
    I looked at Joel, but he only shrugged.
    “What, can’t tell what kind of weapon from the sound? Could that be Anna’s piece?”
    “Man, I don’t know what the fuck a gun sounds like unless it’s an AK-47. Those things are distinct.”
    “It’s like we speak two different languages, Joel. Okay,