Read Online Loose Ends: A Zombie Novel by Jay Wilburn - Free Book Online

unload the stakes and the flat, camping grill wrapped in a blanket.
    “Hold up a moment, Doc,” Short Order said. “I have a challenge, if you guys are up for it.”
    Doc tapped me on the shoulder to stop me and leaned against the open door waiting. Chef turned from looking over the cars with binoculars back toward Short Order. He set the rifle he was holding down on the hood of the truck as he spoke.
    Chef said, “I don’t know, Shaw. I really just want to get us fed and back inside as quickly as possible.”
    Doc said, “Come on now, Head Chef David Sharp, that doesn’t sound like your old self at all. You’ve been eating from cans for too long. Let’s hear him out and then we can dash his dreams.”
    Chef said, “Okay, Short, challenge us.”
    Short Order explained, “I did a lot of cooking in the open on the way across the state. I wasn’t carrying cooking or camping gear obviously. I found ways to cook on metal hub caps and even in bird feeders a couple times.”
    “I’m regretting talking Chef into listening, Short,” Doc said.
    Short kept talking. “The Mongols used to cook in their shields while they were on the march. They would use whatever meat they killed and cook it up right there. That led to the curved bowls in Mongolian buffet style we use today … well, used before the zombies started eating us. Anyway, I found that the metal off an old car door or hood would heat up nicely and you could cook anything in there mixing up the flavors. If you guys are up for it, I bet we could find something suitable in these old cars. I also bet I can find some frogs like I used to cook on the road.”
    “The Kermit the Hun challenge?” Doc looked at Chef.
    Chef took a deep breath. “I’m game. I’ve had frog a few times since the dead rose and I know I can cook it better than you two, so let’s play.”
    “The jackass said yes,” Doc slapped the truck before he closed the door.
    Chef said, “One of us should top off the tank while the other two find us a proper cooking shield.”
    I helped Chef fill the tank using a siphon hose through the window grating. It was a tricky process when we couldn’t afford to spill any. We managed somehow.
    Doc took his pole with him and Short Order carried one of the machetes. Doc carried a bag of tools in the other hand.
    Short set the machete down and began checking through his pockets while we were refueling. He pulled out a leather pouch and slid out a hand rolled cigarette. He took out a match from the tin case and struck it on top of the car.
    “Where did you find smokes?” Doc asked.
    “They were on the shelf in the garage with the matches. I found them when we first started packing,” Short Order explained as he took a long drag and picked up the machete again.
    “Are they Mary Jane specials?” Doc asked.
    “No,” Short said, “Just tobacco. Someone in the garage knew someone that was growing and curing it outside somewhere, I guess.”
    “How can you smoke and still expect to have a pallet for cooking?” Chef called after him.
    It made me nervous that they were yelling so much outside after everything we had seen today.
    Short called back, “I’ve given up salmon, indoor plumbing, refrigeration, and central heat … again.  I’m going to give myself this.”
    “Happy birthday, me, hope you like cancer,” Doc said.
    “I thought you smelled like tobacco,” Chef called again. “I thought you hadn’t bathed or I was going crazy.”
    “Well, I bathed, so that just leaves you being crazy,” Short called as he and Doc moved on looking at the cars.
    They checked several doors as they looked in on deteriorated seats, broken glass, and disintegrating clothing. Engines had fallen through the bottom of a couple vehicles, but Short shook his head after looking at the rusted hoods. Doc reached in one car and pulled out plastic box with dials on it.
    He said, “What do you think this used to be, Short? A weather radio maybe? Hello out there. It looks