Read Online Curse of the Immune by Levi Doone - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Levi Doone
Ads: Link
do before? How’d you get to know so much about zombies in less than a day?”
He sat up and cleared his throat. “I’m from up the road in Woonsocket. You know where Grandview Avenue is?
“Yeah, by the gas station off Pine Swamp. It’s near where I live, West Wrentham Road.”
“Oh yeah, we’ve gone that way all the time,” Rudy states. “Anyway, I went to Woonsocket Middle School, obviously, and didn’t do much else but help my dad.”
“What did you help your father with?”
“Well, let me first explain my dad was a bit of a conspiracy nut. He really thought the government was planning something to end civilization as we know it. He spent some time in Iraq and Afghanistan, and it changed him. When he left the military, he had enough money between my mom’s life insurance and his retirement pension so he didn’t need to work. He stayed home and prepared for a disaster he was sure would happen. I know, nuts, right?”
“I don’t know. Actually, it doesn’t seem so crazy now.”
Rudy laughs a bit. “Yeah, he was a freakin’ genius. I actually did have fun with it. He taught me fighting techniques with and without weapons, how to survive off the land, how to make and fortify a bunker in our basement, complete with dry food, a well and septic, and enough weapons and ammunition to take on an army.
“Once the reports of an asteroid started, my dad felt justified. And I was glad he was nuts and made us do all that work. We started preparing the bunker for survival in a post-asteroid world. We made a bunker beneath the bunker, sealed it off with steal and cement. We actually made an environmental ecosystem down there so we could survive the ash.”
“Wow, sounds like a lot of work.”
“I stopped going to school, and we worked night and day. You can imagine our surprise when the asteroid exploded. All that work for nothing.
“I mean, we were glad the catastrophe was averted, but we were a little disappointed.” He stops talking for a minute, then says, “Now that I’ve said it out loud, I guess I sound crazy. I didn’t want people to die, but you know, we just were looking forward to seeing if we could survive.
“Then my dad got sick. That sucked. He figured people were turning into flesh-eating zombies when he saw the reports from China and Australia. That’s when he knew he was a goner and gave me his final instructions—to study him once he turned and find how they operate and how they’re killed. That’s how I know about these things.”
“You killed your father? I’m so sorry.”
He stares at the floor and says, “Yeah, I miss that nut. He was a good guy. Do anything for me. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be dead.”
“And if it weren’t for you, I’d be dead.”
“And us,” Guille says from upstairs. “We can hear you by the way.”
“Sorry, we’ll keep it down. Try to get some sleep.”
After a moment, I say, “It must have been hard to kill your dad. I can’t even imagine.”
“First of all, you have to get it out of your head that these things are people. They’re called the undead for a reason. The person part has to die; then the body becomes something else, something that understands only one thing and that’s to feed on the living. The strangest thing is it’s just like the movies. It’s like they follow the Hollywood script on zombiology.
“They’re mostly attracted to movement, but they also react to smells and sounds. The only way you can destroy one is by taking out the brain. The one thing that’s uniquely different is the weird glowing blood that’s thick like peanut butter. That’s really the only substance that resembles it. At least they don’t make a mess with blood splatter or major leakage.”
“Okay, that’s really gross. We just ate peanut butter.”
“Sorry, but I’m afraid we’re all gonna have to get used to that stuff and everything else that goes with those things.”
“I know, but can we please not use food
He sat up and cleared his throat. “I’m from up the road in Woonsocket. You know where Grandview Avenue is?
“Yeah, by the gas station off Pine Swamp. It’s near where I live, West Wrentham Road.”
“Oh yeah, we’ve gone that way all the time,” Rudy states. “Anyway, I went to Woonsocket Middle School, obviously, and didn’t do much else but help my dad.”
“What did you help your father with?”
“Well, let me first explain my dad was a bit of a conspiracy nut. He really thought the government was planning something to end civilization as we know it. He spent some time in Iraq and Afghanistan, and it changed him. When he left the military, he had enough money between my mom’s life insurance and his retirement pension so he didn’t need to work. He stayed home and prepared for a disaster he was sure would happen. I know, nuts, right?”
“I don’t know. Actually, it doesn’t seem so crazy now.”
Rudy laughs a bit. “Yeah, he was a freakin’ genius. I actually did have fun with it. He taught me fighting techniques with and without weapons, how to survive off the land, how to make and fortify a bunker in our basement, complete with dry food, a well and septic, and enough weapons and ammunition to take on an army.
“Once the reports of an asteroid started, my dad felt justified. And I was glad he was nuts and made us do all that work. We started preparing the bunker for survival in a post-asteroid world. We made a bunker beneath the bunker, sealed it off with steal and cement. We actually made an environmental ecosystem down there so we could survive the ash.”
“Wow, sounds like a lot of work.”
“I stopped going to school, and we worked night and day. You can imagine our surprise when the asteroid exploded. All that work for nothing.
“I mean, we were glad the catastrophe was averted, but we were a little disappointed.” He stops talking for a minute, then says, “Now that I’ve said it out loud, I guess I sound crazy. I didn’t want people to die, but you know, we just were looking forward to seeing if we could survive.
“Then my dad got sick. That sucked. He figured people were turning into flesh-eating zombies when he saw the reports from China and Australia. That’s when he knew he was a goner and gave me his final instructions—to study him once he turned and find how they operate and how they’re killed. That’s how I know about these things.”
“You killed your father? I’m so sorry.”
He stares at the floor and says, “Yeah, I miss that nut. He was a good guy. Do anything for me. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be dead.”
“And if it weren’t for you, I’d be dead.”
“And us,” Guille says from upstairs. “We can hear you by the way.”
“Sorry, we’ll keep it down. Try to get some sleep.”
After a moment, I say, “It must have been hard to kill your dad. I can’t even imagine.”
“First of all, you have to get it out of your head that these things are people. They’re called the undead for a reason. The person part has to die; then the body becomes something else, something that understands only one thing and that’s to feed on the living. The strangest thing is it’s just like the movies. It’s like they follow the Hollywood script on zombiology.
“They’re mostly attracted to movement, but they also react to smells and sounds. The only way you can destroy one is by taking out the brain. The one thing that’s uniquely different is the weird glowing blood that’s thick like peanut butter. That’s really the only substance that resembles it. At least they don’t make a mess with blood splatter or major leakage.”
“Okay, that’s really gross. We just ate peanut butter.”
“Sorry, but I’m afraid we’re all gonna have to get used to that stuff and everything else that goes with those things.”
“I know, but can we please not use food
Similar Books
