Read Online District: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse by Shawn Chesser - Free Book Online

aboard a life flight heading to Ogden or
Salt Lake. If I freeze up out there and get bit my mom will kill me. Then, after
she kills me, she will kill you. Probably with your own blade.”
    Clucking his tongue, Daymon took his foot off the brake and
let the truck roll forward until the creature was broadside with Oliver’s door.
    Instantly, the thing rushed the door, mashing its face
against the window. The clicking noise of its teeth impacting the glass reverberated
in the cab, setting Oliver’s arm hair standing to attention. Its face was
marred by circular bite marks oozing a viscous yellow liquid. One eye was
missing, and the optic nerve—or at least what looked like one to Oliver—snaked
from the puckered opening and rested limply on one sunken cheek.
    Casting his gaze downward, he saw that the female creature’s
flaccid breasts bore punctures and scratches, likely from encountering brambles
and branches while traipsing the countryside in search of prey.
    “No water is getting near these balls,” Oliver stated,
inching away from the window, the seatbelt crossing his body suddenly going
taut.
    Renewing its efforts at trying to eat the meat through the
rapidly clouding passenger side glass, the thing opened its maw wider and
planted its maggot-riddled tongue where Oliver’s face had been.
    “Look at that thing,” Daymon said. “You want her to slip you
some of that? I could punch the window down and let you touch it.”
    The monster was palming the window now, bony fingers splayed
out like gnarled tree roots. It tilted its head and, almost as if it could
sense the fear radiating off of the fresh meat, shot a confused dog’s look
straight at Oliver.
    “You better go now if you want to make it to the compound and
back within the hour,” Oliver said, throwing a visible shudder.
    “Don’t worry,” Daymon said. “We’ll make it.”
    Turning away from the persistent abomination, Oliver showed
Daymon his watch. “That’s only forty some-odd minutes. How are you going to
make that happen?”
    “Like this,” Daymon shot, simultaneously releasing the brake,
matting the pedal, and steering into the rotter. “I’m going to drive it like I
stole it.”

Chapter 9
     
    Taryn was holding the creature at bay—barely. Still, the
thing had been able to snake one arm through the four-inch-wide gap between
door and jamb and had gotten hold of a fistful of the nineteen-year-old’s
fleece jacket.
    “Hurry up, Wilson!” she hollered across the parking lot.
“Damn thing got the jump on me!”
    Unable to see the true gravity of his fiancée’s situation,
he tucked his carbine to his shoulder and called back, “Why don’t you just step
away from the door and I’ll pop it when it comes on out?”
    Taryn was straining mightily, her shoulder mashed against
the door, all hundred-and-five pounds of her small frame invested fully in the
life-and-death struggle. “I can’t. It’s got ahold of me,” she said. “If you’re
going to be my husband, Wilson … you have to jump when I say jump !”
    And he did. Not literally, though. However, even before he
had followed through on the first powerful stride towards the fix-it shop’s front
door, he had spun the carbine out of the way, letting it hang on its sling at
his back. The easier to handle Beretta semi-auto pistol had cleared its holster
and was in his fist as he halved the distance to the short, unkempt hedges
fronting the combination stairs/wheelchair ramp.
    To Wilson, as he ran headlong for the stairs with the
carbine thumping steadily against his backside, time seemed to slow down,
allowing him to see that the looming, vertical rectangle of white Taryn was
crouched before was stickered over with certificates promising A+ Customer Satisfaction,
ensuring AAA Accreditation, and trumpeting Chamber of Commerce Membership Since
1982. All minutiae to the twenty-year-old considering the first and only true
love of his life was in imminent danger. And as his