Read Online Loose Ends: A Zombie Novel by Jay Wilburn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jay Wilburn
Tags: Zombies
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with the song, but I was pretty sure that’s not how it was originally written.
We didn’t cook all of them. What they did cook was good. I tried cooking some too, but mine just tasted like soy sauce. The cooks were polite about it. Chef suggested that I add it more slowly and taste as I cook. Mine was rubbery.
Short tried something with mint that wasn’t bad. Doc and Chef both went tangy. I couldn’t tell the difference and they got mildly irritated when Short and I wouldn’t pick a winner.
We cleaned up the gear and kicked dirt into the fire under the hot trunk lid even though it was getting colder as the sun set.
Short stepped away from the group and sat on the trunk of a rusted out Corvette and enjoyed one last cigarette as he stared at the sunset.
Doc turned his back on the colorful sky as he fussed over repacking gear in the cargo section.
Chef used the last light of the sun to get out the small bag he had packed in the back. He took out a flip open, straight razor and a leather strap. He looped belt over a broken side mirror on one of the cars. He grazed the razor up and down the strap several times with the same fervor and skill he used with sharpening the kitchen knives.
He tested the edge with his fingertip, but didn’t draw blood. He then took out a mirror that he propped up in a door jam. He dry shaved his face and neck. I watched nervously, but he finished and put everything away without a nick.
His face almost shined in the twilight and he looked like his old self again. As he put his bag away, Doc was unrolling his sleeping bag by the open truck door.
“Do you think they’ll get in the truck?” Doc asked, “I heard snakes are attracted to body heat. They could crawl through the window grills.”
Short Order asked, “What do you guys make of this?”
He was kneeling down next to the outside fender of the Corvette that was facing away from us.
Chef walked over and cursed.
Doc walked over next.
He said, “Snakes, and then this … we should go somewhere else.”
Chef said, “It’s too late. If we leave now, we’ll be driving in the dark and we don’t want that. I’m sure they are long gone even if it is them.”
I came around where they were standing. In black paint across the side of the car was written, Shy is a lie. Believe and you die!
We stayed for the night anyway.
We were cramped in the floor of the truck around each other and the seat bases, but we managed to all four get into sleeping bags without killing each other.
***
I woke up in the darkness after getting kicked in the head. I tried to cover up, but then I got stepped on and kicked again. There was yelling and the ground was shaking. I didn’t know where I was.
“Get it started while we still can,” Doc yelled.
The truck pitched up and dropped again on the noisy shocks. Gear in the back clanked and rattled with the impact. I crawled out of my sleeping bag and bumped my head on the underside of a jump seat. The truck tilted again and I fell against the door. I tried to grab hold of something and nearly pulled the handle to open the door by accident. The plastic popped out behind me and I heard the groans from their throats and the thrum of their fingers pulling on the metal grating. I let go of the door handle.
“I need light,” Chef grumbled from the front.
“That might be bad,” Doc said.
My eyes were adjusting and I didn’t like what I saw all around us.
“Not as bad as it will be, if I don’t get this damn thing started,” Chef growled over the growls all around us.
“I got it,” Short said.
A flashlight blazed on in front and I was blinded. The roars rose up around us and the truck rocked harder as the engine roared into life. I found my seat and belted myself into the seat harness. Doc had turned his swivel seat and was holding on to the fuel canisters with both hands.
“We need to go before they flip us,” Doc yelled.
As if he gave them the idea, the truck tilted to the side
We didn’t cook all of them. What they did cook was good. I tried cooking some too, but mine just tasted like soy sauce. The cooks were polite about it. Chef suggested that I add it more slowly and taste as I cook. Mine was rubbery.
Short tried something with mint that wasn’t bad. Doc and Chef both went tangy. I couldn’t tell the difference and they got mildly irritated when Short and I wouldn’t pick a winner.
We cleaned up the gear and kicked dirt into the fire under the hot trunk lid even though it was getting colder as the sun set.
Short stepped away from the group and sat on the trunk of a rusted out Corvette and enjoyed one last cigarette as he stared at the sunset.
Doc turned his back on the colorful sky as he fussed over repacking gear in the cargo section.
Chef used the last light of the sun to get out the small bag he had packed in the back. He took out a flip open, straight razor and a leather strap. He looped belt over a broken side mirror on one of the cars. He grazed the razor up and down the strap several times with the same fervor and skill he used with sharpening the kitchen knives.
He tested the edge with his fingertip, but didn’t draw blood. He then took out a mirror that he propped up in a door jam. He dry shaved his face and neck. I watched nervously, but he finished and put everything away without a nick.
His face almost shined in the twilight and he looked like his old self again. As he put his bag away, Doc was unrolling his sleeping bag by the open truck door.
“Do you think they’ll get in the truck?” Doc asked, “I heard snakes are attracted to body heat. They could crawl through the window grills.”
Short Order asked, “What do you guys make of this?”
He was kneeling down next to the outside fender of the Corvette that was facing away from us.
Chef walked over and cursed.
Doc walked over next.
He said, “Snakes, and then this … we should go somewhere else.”
Chef said, “It’s too late. If we leave now, we’ll be driving in the dark and we don’t want that. I’m sure they are long gone even if it is them.”
I came around where they were standing. In black paint across the side of the car was written, Shy is a lie. Believe and you die!
We stayed for the night anyway.
We were cramped in the floor of the truck around each other and the seat bases, but we managed to all four get into sleeping bags without killing each other.
***
I woke up in the darkness after getting kicked in the head. I tried to cover up, but then I got stepped on and kicked again. There was yelling and the ground was shaking. I didn’t know where I was.
“Get it started while we still can,” Doc yelled.
The truck pitched up and dropped again on the noisy shocks. Gear in the back clanked and rattled with the impact. I crawled out of my sleeping bag and bumped my head on the underside of a jump seat. The truck tilted again and I fell against the door. I tried to grab hold of something and nearly pulled the handle to open the door by accident. The plastic popped out behind me and I heard the groans from their throats and the thrum of their fingers pulling on the metal grating. I let go of the door handle.
“I need light,” Chef grumbled from the front.
“That might be bad,” Doc said.
My eyes were adjusting and I didn’t like what I saw all around us.
“Not as bad as it will be, if I don’t get this damn thing started,” Chef growled over the growls all around us.
“I got it,” Short said.
A flashlight blazed on in front and I was blinded. The roars rose up around us and the truck rocked harder as the engine roared into life. I found my seat and belted myself into the seat harness. Doc had turned his swivel seat and was holding on to the fuel canisters with both hands.
“We need to go before they flip us,” Doc yelled.
As if he gave them the idea, the truck tilted to the side
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