Read Online Aftermath (Invasion of the Dead) - Part I by Owen Baillie - Free Book Online

people and he knew Kristy had struggled to accept the realities of death.  She had witnessed the suicide at the gas station, and the old man kill himself.  Now her brother spoke about a truck full of cannibalised dead soldiers.
    The lorry shook violently.  Bulges appeared in the canvas covering, as though it was trying to punch its way out. 
    “ It knows we’re here,” Callan said.  “We have to move the truck.”
    “ Could it break through the canvas?”  Greg said.
    Dylan said, “I don’t know.  Maybe”
    The rain grew heavier, clunking against the hood of the Jeep, as thunder cracked in the distance, rumbling across the hills.  Water dripped from their saturated hair onto their faces, and their clothes had darkened. 
    “Dylan, check the wheels on the other side.  If they’re flat it won’t roll out of the way and we’ll have to barge our way through.”
    Greg stepped out of the front seat and swung the shotgun up into position, his blonde hair coloured dark by the rain.  “I’ve got you,” he said, following Dylan. 
    He felt comfortable with Greg at his side.  The man was reliable, honest.  Around town, his word was a binding contract and Dylan had never known him to break it.  He had been around guns the longest, and had killed the bulk of the game that fed them with impressive accuracy.  Dylan considered Callan’s plan as he went around the back of the lorry.  He wondered whether they could remove the key items from the boat.  It would save fuel and get them home faster, but they would have to leave half their supplies behind.  Callan was right.
    They stopped at the rear of the truck.  Both wheels were intact. 
    “ How bad is it?”  Greg said, glancing at the silent cover.
    “I’ve never seen anything like it.   They all look dead, except the one whose arm Callan blew off.  It didn’t even flinch.”
    “ I got a feeling Albury’s gonna be in a bad way.”
    “M e too.” 
    “We gotta look after the girls, make sure nothing happens to them, okay?”
    Dylan wondered if he specifically meant Kristy.  “Sure.”  He hesitated, then said, “You like her, don’t you?”
    Greg shrugged.  “ Kind of.”
    “Have you told her how you feel?” 
    Greg shook his head.  “I know she likes you.  I’ve… accepted that.”
    “I’m sorry man.”
    “It’s cool.”
    Dylan nodded and t hey emerged at the front of the truck.  “We’re good,” he said to Callan.  Kristy was in the driver’s seat again.  Dylan wished he were sitting beside her.
    “There are weapons in with them,” Dylan said to Greg.  “Automatic machine guns and a load of ammo.”
    “We need it.  We’re down to our last few rounds.”
    A ripping noise sounded and Dylan jumped back from the lorry.  A fist and forearm stuck through the side of the cover, the soldier’s bloody fingers searching for a victim.
    “We gotta move!”  Greg yelled.  He raised the shotgun and took aim.   It was best suited for small, speedy game where the shot would disperse into pellets, but at five feet, it was a lethal ball.  He unloaded the gun with a noisy report.  The soldier shrieked, and fell back into the darkness.  “Take that, fucker.”  Greg pumped the next shell into the chamber.
    C allan stepped up onto the lorry and opened the driver’s door.  The lifeless body of another soldier fell to the bitumen with a dense thud.  A gaping wound in his neck glared at them with crimson fury.  Dylan felt his stomach rise.
    “Jesus!”  Callan screamed.   He slipped inside the cab and fiddled with the controls.  The truck began to roll backwards towards the embankment with painful tardiness and Callan leapt from the doorway. 
    The y converged on the Jeep, now streaked dirty by the rain, and Greg resumed his place as the front passenger.  Dylan opened the back door as Sherry shuffled to the far side, allowing Callan to get in first. 
    Kristy stepped out of the driver’s seat.
    “No, you drive,”