Read Online Heartland Junk Part I: The End: A ZOMBIE Apocalypse Serial by Eli Nixon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Eli Nixon
Tags: Action & Adventure, Horror, Action, Zombie, Zombies, apocalypse, Action Suspense, horror action zombie, horror about apocalypse
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black cat (asleep).
Rivet —Nine
cans of food (sweet corn, pears, carrots and peas, sweet corn,
black beans, sweet corn, asparagus, tuna, sweet corn). Two
flashlights. One pack of D batteries (seven). One first aid kit.
One steak knife. One shovel. One fireplace poker. One roll of duct
tape (reflective orange). One length of twine. One cigarette
lighter. One magnifying glass. One James Rollins paperback. One
bandana (pink). One can opener. One fork. One spoon. One cooking
pot. One water bottle. One miniature trowel. One pair of plastic
safety goggles.
Me —Six
cans of food (coincidentally, identical to Jennie's stash). One
meat cleaver. One axe. One cigarette lighter. One bottle of
cabernet sauvignon (dusty).
Duffel —Seven frozen Lean Cuisines (various flavors). Twelve cans of
Coca-Cola. Twelve cans of food (pears, sweet corn, asparagus,
asparagus, black-eyed peas, okra, sweet corn, peaches, black beans,
tuna, black beans, olives). Scotch tape. Masking tape. One coil of
braided rope. Three steak knives. Three forks. Three
spoons.
Rivet groaned as
he hefted his bulging backpack and slid his shoulders into the
straps. We were at the front door, gathered around Janet's body. An
eggy, sulferous smell had already begun to work its way into the
air around it, and a few black flies were buzzing at its perimeter.
Jennie kept swatting them away from where they were landing on her
blood-tinged head wrap.
"Why'd you need an
extra fork?" I asked Rivet. He looked at me through the safety
goggles. They were that old-fashioned, boxy kind with a white
elastic strap. He'd stretched the pink bandana over his scalp and
tied it in the back. Just a safe, gay pirate.
"In case we get
separated." Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I
grunted. Sure.
"Everybody ready?"
Jennie asked. She was in front, her hand poised over the doorknob.
We'd already moved the shovel that Rivet had wedged behind the
door. I shifted the axe in my hand. It felt good, solid. I nodded.
My other hand held the duffel.
Rivet raised his
shovel over his head and tapped it against the ceiling. "Onward and
upward."
Jennie cracked the
door a smidge. We crowded close, pressing our faces to the
hair-fracture aperture. Rivet bumped his safety goggles into the
doorjamb and cursed.
"Dammit, move
over, Jen," he said, and flung the door wide. Sunlight streamed
into our dark world. Jennie flinched, and so did I. In a little
over an hour, we'd become earthworms, albino denizens of a deep
cave. The sunlight hurt us. I squinted, looked around the empty
yard, and the moment passed. Just another beautiful day in Joshuah
Hill, the hemorrhoid scrunched down America's ass.
I fingered the
jingling key fob we'd unearthed from Janet's back pocket, hoped
again that one of the keys on it matched the Ford, took a deep
breath. "Let's go."
I pushed open the
glass storm door and sprinted across the yard, feeling Jennie and
Rivet behind me. We reached the dusty pickup and I swung around it
to get to the driver's side while Jennie and Rivet fiddled with the
handle near the house.
"Locked!" Jennie
called.
"Working on it."
In the house, I'd singled out three keys that looked right for the
Ford. I tried the first one. It wouldn't even go in. Second one. It
slid into the keyhole below the handle, but wouldn't turn.
"Lock and load,
Rayman," Rivet hissed on the other side of the truck. "Get us in
there."
I thrust the third
key into the hole and tried to turn it. Nothing. I pulled. Shit. It
was jammed. I yanked again, and the key snapped in half, its front
still wedged in the lock.
"Shit!" I
yelled.
"That better be
triumph," Rivet returned.
"I broke it."
"Broke what? "
said Jennie.
"The lock, the
key. Shit!"
"Back to the
house," said Rivet. "We'll take the other car." He and Jennie
started across the lawn.
I ran around the
back of the truck to catch up and saw it. God, we were idiots.
"Guys!" I yelled. "Come back." Without waiting, I vaulted the
sidewall and
Rivet —Nine
cans of food (sweet corn, pears, carrots and peas, sweet corn,
black beans, sweet corn, asparagus, tuna, sweet corn). Two
flashlights. One pack of D batteries (seven). One first aid kit.
One steak knife. One shovel. One fireplace poker. One roll of duct
tape (reflective orange). One length of twine. One cigarette
lighter. One magnifying glass. One James Rollins paperback. One
bandana (pink). One can opener. One fork. One spoon. One cooking
pot. One water bottle. One miniature trowel. One pair of plastic
safety goggles.
Me —Six
cans of food (coincidentally, identical to Jennie's stash). One
meat cleaver. One axe. One cigarette lighter. One bottle of
cabernet sauvignon (dusty).
Duffel —Seven frozen Lean Cuisines (various flavors). Twelve cans of
Coca-Cola. Twelve cans of food (pears, sweet corn, asparagus,
asparagus, black-eyed peas, okra, sweet corn, peaches, black beans,
tuna, black beans, olives). Scotch tape. Masking tape. One coil of
braided rope. Three steak knives. Three forks. Three
spoons.
Rivet groaned as
he hefted his bulging backpack and slid his shoulders into the
straps. We were at the front door, gathered around Janet's body. An
eggy, sulferous smell had already begun to work its way into the
air around it, and a few black flies were buzzing at its perimeter.
Jennie kept swatting them away from where they were landing on her
blood-tinged head wrap.
"Why'd you need an
extra fork?" I asked Rivet. He looked at me through the safety
goggles. They were that old-fashioned, boxy kind with a white
elastic strap. He'd stretched the pink bandana over his scalp and
tied it in the back. Just a safe, gay pirate.
"In case we get
separated." Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I
grunted. Sure.
"Everybody ready?"
Jennie asked. She was in front, her hand poised over the doorknob.
We'd already moved the shovel that Rivet had wedged behind the
door. I shifted the axe in my hand. It felt good, solid. I nodded.
My other hand held the duffel.
Rivet raised his
shovel over his head and tapped it against the ceiling. "Onward and
upward."
Jennie cracked the
door a smidge. We crowded close, pressing our faces to the
hair-fracture aperture. Rivet bumped his safety goggles into the
doorjamb and cursed.
"Dammit, move
over, Jen," he said, and flung the door wide. Sunlight streamed
into our dark world. Jennie flinched, and so did I. In a little
over an hour, we'd become earthworms, albino denizens of a deep
cave. The sunlight hurt us. I squinted, looked around the empty
yard, and the moment passed. Just another beautiful day in Joshuah
Hill, the hemorrhoid scrunched down America's ass.
I fingered the
jingling key fob we'd unearthed from Janet's back pocket, hoped
again that one of the keys on it matched the Ford, took a deep
breath. "Let's go."
I pushed open the
glass storm door and sprinted across the yard, feeling Jennie and
Rivet behind me. We reached the dusty pickup and I swung around it
to get to the driver's side while Jennie and Rivet fiddled with the
handle near the house.
"Locked!" Jennie
called.
"Working on it."
In the house, I'd singled out three keys that looked right for the
Ford. I tried the first one. It wouldn't even go in. Second one. It
slid into the keyhole below the handle, but wouldn't turn.
"Lock and load,
Rayman," Rivet hissed on the other side of the truck. "Get us in
there."
I thrust the third
key into the hole and tried to turn it. Nothing. I pulled. Shit. It
was jammed. I yanked again, and the key snapped in half, its front
still wedged in the lock.
"Shit!" I
yelled.
"That better be
triumph," Rivet returned.
"I broke it."
"Broke what? "
said Jennie.
"The lock, the
key. Shit!"
"Back to the
house," said Rivet. "We'll take the other car." He and Jennie
started across the lawn.
I ran around the
back of the truck to catch up and saw it. God, we were idiots.
"Guys!" I yelled. "Come back." Without waiting, I vaulted the
sidewall and
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