Read Online Mountain Man - 01 by Keith C. Blackmore - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Keith C. Blackmore
Tags: Horror
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carrier on top, where he stowed a few extra goodies. He got behind the wheel and started up the engine.
Ahead lay the carcass of one of the Philistines. Headless and staining the asphalt with brain matter.
A bad place to lie down, Tenner thought, and shifted into drive.
He slowly drove over the unmoving body, relishing the soft squish and bump as it went underneath his wheels.
7
Gus replaced his motorcycle jacket with his spare, thankful for the practice of keeping at least two of everything when he could, and hosed the dead matter off the van and grill guard. That was one thing he didn’t like doing, cleaning up after hitting some of the fuckers. He didn’t throw the damaged jacket away, thinking perhaps he could repair it somehow later.
There would be no mistakes this time, he thought while arming himself with shots of Crown Royal. The freak-out from before was an isolated incident. Or so he hoped.
Gus drove down the highway toward Annapolis. The late morning sun glowed in a cloudless sky, but its heat didn’t reach the city. He drove through the outskirts, spotting a gimp every now and again, and thinking it strange to see so much activity. Their movements on the whole struck him as tidal, being in one area one day, and drifting to another en masse, driven by whatever mystery animated them in the first place. Smells and sounds attracted them, but sight couldn’t be possible. Not with some of the undead he’d seen with their faces chewed off. Whatever the reason, more of them were wandering the streets of Annapolis than before, and that made him nervous.
Perhaps there was someone alive there. Someone who had shot at his van.
He proceeded at a speed of forty and kept his visor up to see better. He found the turnoff for the subdivision he had almost died in two days ago and slowed to thirty, looking for signs of the living.
What he saw made his jaw drop.
The zombies he’d put down were gone, all gone. Whatever fluids had remained in their husks stained and marked the places where the creatures died, but the bodies had disappeared. A feeling of unease swelled within him. He exhaled in wary amazement, feeling his breath reflect off his helmet and heat his face. Where had they gone? He eased his foot onto the brake and stopped the van, taking in the sight before him. The door of the house he had visited remained open. He stretched to see, making the leather seat creak, then sat back and just listened. There was no sound but the dull buzz of silence. He lowered the window and stuck out his head. The area seemed clear, and the fresh air chilled his face.
Raising the window, Gus mulled things over. He backed up to the open door of the house. Loaded shotgun in hand, he opened the rear door and jumped to the porch. Cautiously, with his shotgun held firmly against his shoulder, he entered the house. He paused on the threshold, listening, but heard nothing. Fear began to take hold, and for a moment, he wished he had a bottle of something to drive it away. He struggled with going back into the house or simply bolting back to his fortress, forever leaving the seemingly haunted place. Perhaps the dead had become able to get up and move around without heads? That thought made his jaw drop. If that was possible, what other way was there to stop the things? Dismemberment? Fire?
Taking a breath, Gus flexed his fingers on the pump of his weapon and proceeded down the stairs, focusing on the corners just ahead. He moved right, then left, swinging the shotgun in each direction. He quickly established the basement area as clear and went upstairs, waiting to hear a thump of something moving. A squeaky floorboard, something dragging along the floor, or something .
Gus snaked into the living room, his shotgun sashaying from side to side. He sized up the room though the sights of the weapon, then crept into the kitchen. Clearing that, he moved into the bedrooms, all the while waiting for a gimp or some other unknown fright to
Ahead lay the carcass of one of the Philistines. Headless and staining the asphalt with brain matter.
A bad place to lie down, Tenner thought, and shifted into drive.
He slowly drove over the unmoving body, relishing the soft squish and bump as it went underneath his wheels.
7
Gus replaced his motorcycle jacket with his spare, thankful for the practice of keeping at least two of everything when he could, and hosed the dead matter off the van and grill guard. That was one thing he didn’t like doing, cleaning up after hitting some of the fuckers. He didn’t throw the damaged jacket away, thinking perhaps he could repair it somehow later.
There would be no mistakes this time, he thought while arming himself with shots of Crown Royal. The freak-out from before was an isolated incident. Or so he hoped.
Gus drove down the highway toward Annapolis. The late morning sun glowed in a cloudless sky, but its heat didn’t reach the city. He drove through the outskirts, spotting a gimp every now and again, and thinking it strange to see so much activity. Their movements on the whole struck him as tidal, being in one area one day, and drifting to another en masse, driven by whatever mystery animated them in the first place. Smells and sounds attracted them, but sight couldn’t be possible. Not with some of the undead he’d seen with their faces chewed off. Whatever the reason, more of them were wandering the streets of Annapolis than before, and that made him nervous.
Perhaps there was someone alive there. Someone who had shot at his van.
He proceeded at a speed of forty and kept his visor up to see better. He found the turnoff for the subdivision he had almost died in two days ago and slowed to thirty, looking for signs of the living.
What he saw made his jaw drop.
The zombies he’d put down were gone, all gone. Whatever fluids had remained in their husks stained and marked the places where the creatures died, but the bodies had disappeared. A feeling of unease swelled within him. He exhaled in wary amazement, feeling his breath reflect off his helmet and heat his face. Where had they gone? He eased his foot onto the brake and stopped the van, taking in the sight before him. The door of the house he had visited remained open. He stretched to see, making the leather seat creak, then sat back and just listened. There was no sound but the dull buzz of silence. He lowered the window and stuck out his head. The area seemed clear, and the fresh air chilled his face.
Raising the window, Gus mulled things over. He backed up to the open door of the house. Loaded shotgun in hand, he opened the rear door and jumped to the porch. Cautiously, with his shotgun held firmly against his shoulder, he entered the house. He paused on the threshold, listening, but heard nothing. Fear began to take hold, and for a moment, he wished he had a bottle of something to drive it away. He struggled with going back into the house or simply bolting back to his fortress, forever leaving the seemingly haunted place. Perhaps the dead had become able to get up and move around without heads? That thought made his jaw drop. If that was possible, what other way was there to stop the things? Dismemberment? Fire?
Taking a breath, Gus flexed his fingers on the pump of his weapon and proceeded down the stairs, focusing on the corners just ahead. He moved right, then left, swinging the shotgun in each direction. He quickly established the basement area as clear and went upstairs, waiting to hear a thump of something moving. A squeaky floorboard, something dragging along the floor, or something .
Gus snaked into the living room, his shotgun sashaying from side to side. He sized up the room though the sights of the weapon, then crept into the kitchen. Clearing that, he moved into the bedrooms, all the while waiting for a gimp or some other unknown fright to
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