Read Online Dead Living by Glenn Bullion - Free Book Online Page B

of
boredom, or because there was something to gain.
    Samantha caught Larry looking her up and
down. She knew some men looked at her. She didn't care. She'd spent
most of her life alone surviving out in the world, only running
with people when she needed to, until she stumbled upon Lexington.
She had no desire for companionship or friends. She learned the
hard way that friends were your friends as long as it was easy and
convenient. When the walking corpses showed up, friendships ended
very fast.
    She could handle acquaintances fine. Friends,
not so much.
    “Larry, I had fence duty last night.
Richardson stuck me with Troy.” Larry winced at the name. Troy's
feelings for Samantha were well known. “So I spent every dark hour
circling the fence with a man telling me how beautiful I am. I'm
tired. Please tell me it's important.”
    “Just wanted to give you a heads up.
Richardson's been looking for you.”
    Samantha shook her head. That meant he had
another task for her. Usually when Richardson sought her out, it
was to do something no one else wanted to. Samantha always would,
for the right price.
    “Thanks, Larry.” He turned to walk away.
Samantha stopped him. “Oh, hey.”
    He spun back around. She flashed a tiny
smile. “You and your gal pal aren't as quiet as you think,” she
said. Troy and she saw them while watching the fences, under the
old bleachers near the smokehouse, which didn't see much use these
days. “You might want to find a new spot.”
    His face turned red, but he managed a smile.
“Uh, thanks.”
    Samantha closed the curtains and finished
getting dressed. She couldn't decide on wearing her last semi-clean
pair of socks, or wearing sandals. She settled on sandals, and
grabbed her old brush and mirror from the desk she used to hold the
few things she had.
    Like most everyone at Lexington, she didn't
know how old she was. She was born after the world died, which
Richardson said was twenty-three years ago. So she guessed she was
a few years younger than that. She had brown eyes and dark straight
hair that came down to her shoulders, with curly bangs. Her hair
was starting to get long. She'd have to bug Mary Taylor for a trim.
She had dark skin, but didn't know what her heritage was. She had
no way of knowing her parents were from Pakistan, not that it
mattered. Most people didn't care about race when walking corpses
ruled the world.
    She left the English classroom that had
become her room, her sanctuary. Her room was simple enough.
Mattress in the corner. Clothes folder neatly in stacks on the
floor. A box of candles under the window. Old world hygiene items
on a tiny table near her mattress. There was plenty of room for her
to stretch out and relax. Her room also had windows. Not everyone
could say that.
    It was amazing what Richardson had done with
the old school. Most of the classrooms had become personal spaces,
some more valued over others. The old gymnasium was their
storeroom, full of clothes, guns, ammunition, candles, everything
they could find. The cafeteria didn't serve much of a purpose
besides a place for everyone to gather and spend time together
during the winter. Sometimes Richardson would get out his guitar
and play for everyone. The library was destroyed for the most part,
holding nothing but trash, broken desks, chairs, and old books no
one was interested in.
    The halls were mostly empty. It was getting
hot quickly, and most of the inner rooms were too stuffy during the
day. She nodded a few greetings at the people she passed, then
finally went outside through the gymnasium. She gave Helen a wave.
Helen had storeroom duty, keeping track of everything people took.
Samantha felt bad for her. She wouldn't want that chore. Of course,
Richardson would never give her that task, since she couldn't
read.
    Samantha stretched her arms as she stepped
into the sun. Lexington housed nearly sixty people. She watched
them as they went about their daily routine. She hoped the people
appreciated