Read Online Crusade (Eden Book 2) by Tony Monchinski - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tony Monchinski
Ads: Link
them and begin to gesticulate and howl. Others would look and see them but they kept their gait steady. With time the tracks they followed dropped or the road turned away from the river, replaced by the trunks and limbs of deciduous trees that had shed their leaves and fruit. The howls of the undead receded in the distance.
They met few zombies on the actual railroad tracks except for where the tracks passed the outskirts of a town or small city. They followed four tracks which were mostly buried under the snow, ice, and debris. The electrified third rail collected power at the bottom and was insulated from above, but there had been no electricity flowing through them in a long time. The tracks stretched over eighty miles from the city to Poughkeepsie further north.
In Yonkers the train station was teeming with zombies. They had to abandon the tracks and claw their way through the snow and trees and brush bereft of leaves and foliage, scratching their hands and faces in places where dandelion, goldenrod and Black-eyed Susan had thrived and would return with the warmth and the sun. They kept roughly parallel to the train tracks, emerging back onto the rails away from the platforms where the dead stood in their hundreds.
Buddy volunteered to walk point and stayed well ahead of the others. Bear had handed back his silenced nine without a word. Buddy considered the previous night’s situation. He’d almost strangled Mickey. Mickey of all people. Mickey, who’s most important thing in life were his movies. Buddy imagined it must have hurt Mickey to leave his DVD collection back in Eden. He remembered nights on lawn chairs watching one of Mickey’s films under the stars with Harris and Julie and Bobby and Gwen and the others, the intermittent cries of the undead still outside the walls.
Mickey. Damn . Buddy pulled his leather jacket closer to his torso and rifled through his saddle bags as he walked. His situation wasn’t good. He carried a slew of amber vials and most of them were empty or near so. They’d have to pass a CVS or Duane Reed or some such place sooner or later, wouldn’t they? In the week or so they’d been on the road since leaving Eden they had only stopped a few times, holing up for a day or two in various stores and buildings. New York City teemed with the undead, millions upon millions of them.
They’d made their way from Queens to the Bronx to Westchester County then crossed west until they’d reached the river and followed it north ever since. The Harbor gave way to the Great Bays and the Bays would let onto the Highlands in the near distance. The river flowed past them southward to the Upper and Lower Bays then into the Atlantic Ocean, salty sea water pushing up the estuary.
Buddy’s memory had been slipping lately. He thought he remembered things but then was left wondering if the things he remembered were true.
It’s true, Harris said in his head. All of it.
Buddy had been hearing voices for some time. He didn’t mind Harris’. It was a reassuring voice—an old friend. But there was another… Buddy realized the voices must only be in his head, but they were so real. Sometimes, like with Harris, they were talking to him. Other times, they were talking about him.
He gripped one of the amber prescription vials in his saddle bags and only let go when a low moan greeted him from his right. An industrial chain link fence bordered the tracks here, enclosing the back lot of a construction site. It looked like a cement mixing plant. A zombie gripped the links and leered at him. It wore a back support and had a wrist brace on one arm. Buddy stopped and the thing grew more excited, its body jerking in place as it shook the fence, rasping.
He looked back to the four men and women behind him and signaled everything was okay. He checked the slide on his silenced 9mm and walked over to the fence. The thing there was voicing something, a rasp emanating from
They met few zombies on the actual railroad tracks except for where the tracks passed the outskirts of a town or small city. They followed four tracks which were mostly buried under the snow, ice, and debris. The electrified third rail collected power at the bottom and was insulated from above, but there had been no electricity flowing through them in a long time. The tracks stretched over eighty miles from the city to Poughkeepsie further north.
In Yonkers the train station was teeming with zombies. They had to abandon the tracks and claw their way through the snow and trees and brush bereft of leaves and foliage, scratching their hands and faces in places where dandelion, goldenrod and Black-eyed Susan had thrived and would return with the warmth and the sun. They kept roughly parallel to the train tracks, emerging back onto the rails away from the platforms where the dead stood in their hundreds.
Buddy volunteered to walk point and stayed well ahead of the others. Bear had handed back his silenced nine without a word. Buddy considered the previous night’s situation. He’d almost strangled Mickey. Mickey of all people. Mickey, who’s most important thing in life were his movies. Buddy imagined it must have hurt Mickey to leave his DVD collection back in Eden. He remembered nights on lawn chairs watching one of Mickey’s films under the stars with Harris and Julie and Bobby and Gwen and the others, the intermittent cries of the undead still outside the walls.
Mickey. Damn . Buddy pulled his leather jacket closer to his torso and rifled through his saddle bags as he walked. His situation wasn’t good. He carried a slew of amber vials and most of them were empty or near so. They’d have to pass a CVS or Duane Reed or some such place sooner or later, wouldn’t they? In the week or so they’d been on the road since leaving Eden they had only stopped a few times, holing up for a day or two in various stores and buildings. New York City teemed with the undead, millions upon millions of them.
They’d made their way from Queens to the Bronx to Westchester County then crossed west until they’d reached the river and followed it north ever since. The Harbor gave way to the Great Bays and the Bays would let onto the Highlands in the near distance. The river flowed past them southward to the Upper and Lower Bays then into the Atlantic Ocean, salty sea water pushing up the estuary.
Buddy’s memory had been slipping lately. He thought he remembered things but then was left wondering if the things he remembered were true.
It’s true, Harris said in his head. All of it.
Buddy had been hearing voices for some time. He didn’t mind Harris’. It was a reassuring voice—an old friend. But there was another… Buddy realized the voices must only be in his head, but they were so real. Sometimes, like with Harris, they were talking to him. Other times, they were talking about him.
He gripped one of the amber prescription vials in his saddle bags and only let go when a low moan greeted him from his right. An industrial chain link fence bordered the tracks here, enclosing the back lot of a construction site. It looked like a cement mixing plant. A zombie gripped the links and leered at him. It wore a back support and had a wrist brace on one arm. Buddy stopped and the thing grew more excited, its body jerking in place as it shook the fence, rasping.
He looked back to the four men and women behind him and signaled everything was okay. He checked the slide on his silenced 9mm and walked over to the fence. The thing there was voicing something, a rasp emanating from
Similar Books
