Read Online Dead Beginnings (Vol. 1) by Alex Apostol - Free Book Online
Authors: Alex Apostol
Tags: Zombies
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growled through the pain. He hadn’t eaten all day. The last thing to go down his throat was a shot of tequila the night before.
Lonnie sat with his head rested in his hands. As he tried to will the pain away, the shadowed flicker of Rowan’s feet paced back and forth in front of him and caught the corner of his eye, intensifying the nausea.
“Would you sit down or something?” he groaned as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Without a word, Rowan complied. He set himself down on the other end of the creaky old sofa. His legs jiggled as his feet bounced up and down and his hands slapped his knees rhythmically.
Lonnie opened one eye and glared through the darkness at him. “Jesus Christ, would you knock it off? You’re gonna make me puke.”
“Sorry.”
Rowan tightened his hands on his knees to steady them as his eyes focused out the front window. His thin, muscular legs still bounced slightly under the pressure. Lonnie rolled his eyes and winced when another sharp pain ran down his neck.
“Why don’t we hit the sack? Upstairs will be best. Gives us time to get shit together if someone decides to try and claim the place in the middle of the night.” Lonnie stood up slowly and scooped up his rifle that leaned against the arm of the couch.
Rowan nodded his head relentlessly as he too stood up, like the world’s tallest and most annoying bobble head. He walked so closely behind Lonnie that he stepped on the heel of his boots. Each time, Lonnie took a deep breath to rid the urge to whip around and punch the guy in the face. One of the wooden steps groaned loudly from the weight and distracted him.
Logically, Lonnie knew there was no way the sound could be heard from the outside, but that knowledge didn’t stop the hairs on his arms from standing on end. The last thing he wanted to do in that moment was find the miniscule amount of energy left in him to fight off more of those fuckers. The full weight of his exhaustion had kicked in, making his bulging muscles ache, his head spin, and his eyelids droop.
At the top of the staircase there were four closed doors. Lonnie had already searched each room thoroughly when he volunteered to make sure the upstairs was clear of people, alive or dead, while Rowan took the main level—a carefully calculated plan to ensure maximum comfort for Lonnie later that night. He walked right over to the door he knew belonged to the master bedroom, equipped with a King size bed and private bathroom with a garden tub.
“See ya in the mornin’. Holler if ya hear anything.” He placed his hand on the doorknob.
“Wait!” Rowan exhaled with a jerky whisper. “We’re not going to stay together?”
Lonnie furrowed his brow. “What the hell are you suggestin’?”
Rowan was taken aback. His mouth hung open as he stood frozen with wide eyes. “What? No. Nothing. Just that it might be safer to stick together, in case anything happens.”
Lonnie took his hand off the doorknob and gripped his AR-15. “That’s why we’re on the second floor,” he said as if he were teaching a toddler to count. “See, if anything gets in the house we’ll hear it before they can find us. That’s how that works.”
The two men stared at each other in a moment of heavy silence. He couldn’t be sure, but Lonnie thought he detected a flicker of fire behind Rowan’s almond eyes. Maybe the guy did have some hidden balls he didn’t know about. Lonnie huffed a breath of laughter, opened the bedroom door a crack, and slipped inside, leaving Rowan to stand dumbfounded and paranoid in the darkened hallway.
The master bedroom was pitch black. The thick gaudy curtains were drawn tightly shut, tied together by a decorative rope. Lonnie tossed his rifle onto the bed and sat down at the edge, his head in his hands and his elbows rested on his knees once again. He waited for the sound
Lonnie sat with his head rested in his hands. As he tried to will the pain away, the shadowed flicker of Rowan’s feet paced back and forth in front of him and caught the corner of his eye, intensifying the nausea.
“Would you sit down or something?” he groaned as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Without a word, Rowan complied. He set himself down on the other end of the creaky old sofa. His legs jiggled as his feet bounced up and down and his hands slapped his knees rhythmically.
Lonnie opened one eye and glared through the darkness at him. “Jesus Christ, would you knock it off? You’re gonna make me puke.”
“Sorry.”
Rowan tightened his hands on his knees to steady them as his eyes focused out the front window. His thin, muscular legs still bounced slightly under the pressure. Lonnie rolled his eyes and winced when another sharp pain ran down his neck.
“Why don’t we hit the sack? Upstairs will be best. Gives us time to get shit together if someone decides to try and claim the place in the middle of the night.” Lonnie stood up slowly and scooped up his rifle that leaned against the arm of the couch.
Rowan nodded his head relentlessly as he too stood up, like the world’s tallest and most annoying bobble head. He walked so closely behind Lonnie that he stepped on the heel of his boots. Each time, Lonnie took a deep breath to rid the urge to whip around and punch the guy in the face. One of the wooden steps groaned loudly from the weight and distracted him.
Logically, Lonnie knew there was no way the sound could be heard from the outside, but that knowledge didn’t stop the hairs on his arms from standing on end. The last thing he wanted to do in that moment was find the miniscule amount of energy left in him to fight off more of those fuckers. The full weight of his exhaustion had kicked in, making his bulging muscles ache, his head spin, and his eyelids droop.
At the top of the staircase there were four closed doors. Lonnie had already searched each room thoroughly when he volunteered to make sure the upstairs was clear of people, alive or dead, while Rowan took the main level—a carefully calculated plan to ensure maximum comfort for Lonnie later that night. He walked right over to the door he knew belonged to the master bedroom, equipped with a King size bed and private bathroom with a garden tub.
“See ya in the mornin’. Holler if ya hear anything.” He placed his hand on the doorknob.
“Wait!” Rowan exhaled with a jerky whisper. “We’re not going to stay together?”
Lonnie furrowed his brow. “What the hell are you suggestin’?”
Rowan was taken aback. His mouth hung open as he stood frozen with wide eyes. “What? No. Nothing. Just that it might be safer to stick together, in case anything happens.”
Lonnie took his hand off the doorknob and gripped his AR-15. “That’s why we’re on the second floor,” he said as if he were teaching a toddler to count. “See, if anything gets in the house we’ll hear it before they can find us. That’s how that works.”
The two men stared at each other in a moment of heavy silence. He couldn’t be sure, but Lonnie thought he detected a flicker of fire behind Rowan’s almond eyes. Maybe the guy did have some hidden balls he didn’t know about. Lonnie huffed a breath of laughter, opened the bedroom door a crack, and slipped inside, leaving Rowan to stand dumbfounded and paranoid in the darkened hallway.
The master bedroom was pitch black. The thick gaudy curtains were drawn tightly shut, tied together by a decorative rope. Lonnie tossed his rifle onto the bed and sat down at the edge, his head in his hands and his elbows rested on his knees once again. He waited for the sound
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