Read Online Dead Soil: A Zombie Series by Alex Apostol - Free Book Online Page B

just the right level of crazy they needed to make it alive. He walked to the door and started the process of securing themselves in again when he heard the bedroom door open. He stopped and turned.
    “You’re not really going to kill them, are you?” Christine asked softly as she held onto the door frame. Her large, blue eyes pleaded with him.
    “We have to,” Liam said. “You know what they’re capable of.”
    Christine closed her eyes and pictured Sylvia and Ben Goldstein, two people she hadn’t liked very much when they were alive, but no matter how much she detested them she wouldn’t have wished them to die the brutal way they did—ripped apart, eaten alive, and then gunned down. It was inhumane. She didn’t want anyone else to suffer that way. Giving the people who were too far gone some peace was the least they could do.
    “I want to come.”
    “No,” Liam said quickly. “No way.”
    “I want to help,” Christine urged as she stepped out from the bedroom.
    “No,” he said again. “I can’t risk you getting infected.”
    She opened her mouth to argue, but shut it again. She was the only family he had left. He was all she had as well. “Fine,” she said to the floor. “I’ll stay.”
     
     
     
    XIII.
     
     
    Luke Benson tossed and turned in his bed. The light of morning crept in through the gaps in the blinds. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock. It was already eight. He rolled over and closed his eyes again, but he knew if sleep had avoided him all night, then it wasn’t going to come now that it was morning. He huffed and threw the covers off. “Fuck,” he grumbled as he stood up.
    The image of Carolyn’s scratched ankle had plagued his thoughts every time he closed his eyes. It kept him up all night wondering how long it took for someone to change once they were infected. How long did Carolyn have until she was trying to eat people like the others? Would she die in her apartment, the one he’d locked her inside of? Would it be his fault? Could he have saved her, helped her in any way? His mind had raced all night with unanswerable questions.
    He got out of bed and dragged his feet across the room and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. His brown eyes had puffy, dark bags under them. His stomach wound tightly into knots when he glimpsed his aged and tired face. Carolyn was probably dead because he was too much of a coward to try and help her. He couldn’t look at himself any longer. He turned away and walked to the kitchen.
    Luke poured himself a bowl of cereal. The spoon made it to his lips, but his mouth remained closed. All the “what ifs” and “maybes” had piled down on him in a matter of seconds and threatened to crush him to death.
    He had to know for sure if Carolyn was still herself or one of those flesh eating monsters. If she was all right, then maybe there was still time to help her, drive her to the hospital, something, anything.
    He dropped the spoon into the bowl and rushed out the front door and into the warm, shaded hallway. There was no forgiving summer breeze. The air hung thick with humidity and the rotten, putrid stench of death. Sweat collected on Luke’s forehead and upper lip. He walked to Carolyn’s door and leaned in close.
    Silence.
    He rested his fingers on the chair he’d wedged under the doorknob. The black metal was warm to the touch. A relaxing sensation ran from his hands, through his stomach, and down to his toes. Maybe everything was OK , he thought. Maybe Carolyn was sleeping, perfectly healthy and fine in her bed. He turned away to go back inside as he shook his head with a smile, but was pulled back immediately. “No more maybes,” he said aloud.
     
     
    Just as Luke was about to remove the chair, he heard voices carry up from the floor below him. Two guys—one overly excited and the other calm and British—were discussing plans for something. Luke knew it had to be Liam Scott and Zack Kran. Liam was the only British person