Read Online Run: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller by Rich Restucci - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rich Restucci
Tags: Zombies
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closed, and don’t open ‘til noon, I got no money!”
Rick looked at an ashen-faced Chris. Chris swallowed hard.
“We’re not here to rob you, chief,” Paul said. “We needed a place to hole up for a while is all.”
The man looked bewildered, “So ya broke in and shot at me?”
“We thought you were one of them,” Rick told him.
“One of who?” the man asked suspiciously.
“One of the infected,” Rick answered, incredulity on his face.
“Huh? What the hell are you talking about, infected? Infected with what?”
8
A green and white behemoth barrelled down the debris strewn streets of east San Francisco. Heads turned and dishevelled figures shambled after the garbage truck. Dallas had returned to the street where he had left the yellow Hummer and his new friends, but it was gone. Rick and the new girl, what was her name? Amy? Ali? Had tried to call him on the radio several times, and while he could hear them he couldn’t transmit. The damn transmit button didn’t work on the radio Rick had given him. There had been no time to let Rick know once things began to progress, and now Dallas was searching for them. Things were beginning to get dicey, as around every turn, throngs of infected would shuffle into view. Dallas was just thinking that he should cut and run for the docks when the radio blared to life, and scared the hell out of him.
“Dallas, Dallas come in!” Rick’s voice. “Dallas, if you can hear me, we’re holed up in the…” the radio went silent for a few seconds, “in the Wilbur Theater. It’s on Minna Street, about a mile south west of the Bay Bridge on-ramp. The Hummer is parked out front.”
Dallas smiled. He knew where Minna Street was. Unfortunately, it was in the other direction. He slammed on the brakes and the truck skidded to a halt. He proceeded to make a three point turn in the middle of the street he was on, backing into a white limousine with tinted windows in the process. The passenger door on the limo fell off, and as Dallas drove away he looked in the side mirror of the truck and could make out a zombie dressed in an evening gown stumbling out of the ruined luxury vehicle, but the ghoul was undoubtedly male.
“Musta been a hell of a party,” he said to himself.
The garbage truck continued to travel south, and the dead seemed to thin out a little. A blue Ford Escape zoomed by going north. There wasn’t that much to the north except the dead.
“To Hell in a hand-basket overnight,” Dallas mumbled. “Where is everybody, and why aren’t the streets clogged with cars?”
A lone, barefoot zombie wearing hospital scrubs stumbled into view down the street. It turned at the sound of the truck, and walked toward Dallas. Dallas was driving relatively slowly, but was coming up on the creature quickly regardless. The thing cut between two parked cars and stood staring at the truck as it approached. Dallas was steering to run it down when it stuck its thumb out like a hitch hiker. Dallas jerked the wheel to the left and jammed the brakes on, the rig squealing to a halt in front of the thing on the street. Dallas could see blood all over the hospital scrubs, but the person looked uninjured. The newcomer waved and ran up to the passenger door. He was all smiles as he pulled himself up to the window, only to face a big black shotgun pointed at his head. The man was in his early twenties, with short, cropped blond hair and a jagged scar on his left cheek. He continued smiling as Dallas questioned him.
“You bit?” Dallas asked.
“Nope, I’m Billy,” the man said through the glass, “Can I get a lift?”
Dallas reached over and unlocked the door. Billy climbed in and locked the door behind him. “Thanks,” he said. “Running around mostly naked isn’t conducive to long life right now,” he continued. “Are you gonna shoot me?”
“What? Oh, sorry.” Dallas answered as he raised the barrel of the shotgun to
Rick looked at an ashen-faced Chris. Chris swallowed hard.
“We’re not here to rob you, chief,” Paul said. “We needed a place to hole up for a while is all.”
The man looked bewildered, “So ya broke in and shot at me?”
“We thought you were one of them,” Rick told him.
“One of who?” the man asked suspiciously.
“One of the infected,” Rick answered, incredulity on his face.
“Huh? What the hell are you talking about, infected? Infected with what?”
8
A green and white behemoth barrelled down the debris strewn streets of east San Francisco. Heads turned and dishevelled figures shambled after the garbage truck. Dallas had returned to the street where he had left the yellow Hummer and his new friends, but it was gone. Rick and the new girl, what was her name? Amy? Ali? Had tried to call him on the radio several times, and while he could hear them he couldn’t transmit. The damn transmit button didn’t work on the radio Rick had given him. There had been no time to let Rick know once things began to progress, and now Dallas was searching for them. Things were beginning to get dicey, as around every turn, throngs of infected would shuffle into view. Dallas was just thinking that he should cut and run for the docks when the radio blared to life, and scared the hell out of him.
“Dallas, Dallas come in!” Rick’s voice. “Dallas, if you can hear me, we’re holed up in the…” the radio went silent for a few seconds, “in the Wilbur Theater. It’s on Minna Street, about a mile south west of the Bay Bridge on-ramp. The Hummer is parked out front.”
Dallas smiled. He knew where Minna Street was. Unfortunately, it was in the other direction. He slammed on the brakes and the truck skidded to a halt. He proceeded to make a three point turn in the middle of the street he was on, backing into a white limousine with tinted windows in the process. The passenger door on the limo fell off, and as Dallas drove away he looked in the side mirror of the truck and could make out a zombie dressed in an evening gown stumbling out of the ruined luxury vehicle, but the ghoul was undoubtedly male.
“Musta been a hell of a party,” he said to himself.
The garbage truck continued to travel south, and the dead seemed to thin out a little. A blue Ford Escape zoomed by going north. There wasn’t that much to the north except the dead.
“To Hell in a hand-basket overnight,” Dallas mumbled. “Where is everybody, and why aren’t the streets clogged with cars?”
A lone, barefoot zombie wearing hospital scrubs stumbled into view down the street. It turned at the sound of the truck, and walked toward Dallas. Dallas was driving relatively slowly, but was coming up on the creature quickly regardless. The thing cut between two parked cars and stood staring at the truck as it approached. Dallas was steering to run it down when it stuck its thumb out like a hitch hiker. Dallas jerked the wheel to the left and jammed the brakes on, the rig squealing to a halt in front of the thing on the street. Dallas could see blood all over the hospital scrubs, but the person looked uninjured. The newcomer waved and ran up to the passenger door. He was all smiles as he pulled himself up to the window, only to face a big black shotgun pointed at his head. The man was in his early twenties, with short, cropped blond hair and a jagged scar on his left cheek. He continued smiling as Dallas questioned him.
“You bit?” Dallas asked.
“Nope, I’m Billy,” the man said through the glass, “Can I get a lift?”
Dallas reached over and unlocked the door. Billy climbed in and locked the door behind him. “Thanks,” he said. “Running around mostly naked isn’t conducive to long life right now,” he continued. “Are you gonna shoot me?”
“What? Oh, sorry.” Dallas answered as he raised the barrel of the shotgun to
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