Read Online Run: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller by Rich Restucci - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rich Restucci
Tags: Zombies
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the ceiling. “Are you sure you’re not bit?” he asked. “There’s a lot of blood on you.”
“Are you from the south?” Billy asked. “I’m from the south! South Boston!”
Dallas looked confused.
Billy frowned. “Sorry. Bugs Bunny reference. Where are we going?”
Dallas put the truck into first and started driving. “Son, if you’re bit, tell me now and we can figure out somethin’. We’re headed for other folks, and I don’t want any surprises later.”
“I wasn’t bitten by one of the infected if that’s what you mean,” Billy told him. “I was, however, repeatedly bitten by certain choices I have made in the past. Bitten right in the old pooper, if you catch my meaning.”
“Uhh, OK, so where’d the blood come from, did you have to fight your way here?”
“Oh most certainly.” Billy’s face lit up. “I’m quite adept at the whole survival thingie. A natural you might say.”
Dallas was confused, and apparently Billy could tell from the look on the southerner’s face.
“Not following me there huh, Forrest? The blood is from anything that got in the way of my great escape. I’ve destroyed sixteen of the infected today. I’m trying to leave the city, too crowded this time of year, and I’m not quite ready to shuffle loose the old mortal coil as it were.”
“Forrest?” asked Dallas.
“Gump!” Billy shot back quickly.
Dallas was taken aback. “You callin’ me stupid?” Now it was Billy’s turn to look confused.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Billy asked him.
“Didja call me Forrest because he was a feeb?”
“Ah,” began Billy, “No, I called you Forrest because both he and you are from the south. I said Gump when you said Forrest because I thought we were playing the association game. Trust me, I play that game all the time.”
“Dallas,” said Dallas, offering his hand.
“Pittsburgh!” The two shook hands.
“No, my name is Dallas .”
“You’re kidding? Are you from Texas?”
“What gave me away?” Dallas asked, looking at Billy. “Was it my…”
“STOP!” Billy shouted pointing to the road
A group of three undead were kneeling over a prone form in the middle of the road. The three were so intent on their meal, they were oblivious to the approaching vehicle. Dallas stopped the truck, and looked at Billy.
“I kinda have a place I need to be, what are we doing here?” Dallas asked.
“Upping the tally.” Billy said and he started opening the door.
“Whoa Hoss,” Dallas said grabbing Billy’s arm, “Where you goin’?”
“Don’t sweat it, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“Dammit boy, this is unnecessary and damn dangerous!”
“Ha! You said damn twice in one sentence.” Billy jumped out of the truck and calmly approached the zombies. He strode nonchalantly up to the nearest one (Dallas would swear later that he heard him whistling) and stopped about three feet behind it.
“Ahem,” he said, “Excuse me? Typical.” Billy barefoot-kicked the kneeling former postal worker in his dead ass. The zombie pitched over, landing face first on the pavement. The thing got up, its face a mess, and looked at Billy. It cocked its head a little, and Billy followed suit. It took a step toward Billy and Billy took a step toward the creature. Both of them stopped, just looking at each other across a four foot span. It was like a vile display of Simon Says. Then the thing turned and knelt down to continue dining on the unfortunate victim, ignoring Billy completely.
Dallas was dumbfounded, Billy was pissed. He talked to himself as he walked over to a car with its hood up and trunk open and looked in the trunk. He pulled out a tire iron and jogged back to the brunch party. Billy pinned the weapon between his left arm and his side, and spit in his left palm. He rubbed his hands together, took up the tire iron in both hands, pointed to the horizon, and then brought it around
“Are you from the south?” Billy asked. “I’m from the south! South Boston!”
Dallas looked confused.
Billy frowned. “Sorry. Bugs Bunny reference. Where are we going?”
Dallas put the truck into first and started driving. “Son, if you’re bit, tell me now and we can figure out somethin’. We’re headed for other folks, and I don’t want any surprises later.”
“I wasn’t bitten by one of the infected if that’s what you mean,” Billy told him. “I was, however, repeatedly bitten by certain choices I have made in the past. Bitten right in the old pooper, if you catch my meaning.”
“Uhh, OK, so where’d the blood come from, did you have to fight your way here?”
“Oh most certainly.” Billy’s face lit up. “I’m quite adept at the whole survival thingie. A natural you might say.”
Dallas was confused, and apparently Billy could tell from the look on the southerner’s face.
“Not following me there huh, Forrest? The blood is from anything that got in the way of my great escape. I’ve destroyed sixteen of the infected today. I’m trying to leave the city, too crowded this time of year, and I’m not quite ready to shuffle loose the old mortal coil as it were.”
“Forrest?” asked Dallas.
“Gump!” Billy shot back quickly.
Dallas was taken aback. “You callin’ me stupid?” Now it was Billy’s turn to look confused.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Billy asked him.
“Didja call me Forrest because he was a feeb?”
“Ah,” began Billy, “No, I called you Forrest because both he and you are from the south. I said Gump when you said Forrest because I thought we were playing the association game. Trust me, I play that game all the time.”
“Dallas,” said Dallas, offering his hand.
“Pittsburgh!” The two shook hands.
“No, my name is Dallas .”
“You’re kidding? Are you from Texas?”
“What gave me away?” Dallas asked, looking at Billy. “Was it my…”
“STOP!” Billy shouted pointing to the road
A group of three undead were kneeling over a prone form in the middle of the road. The three were so intent on their meal, they were oblivious to the approaching vehicle. Dallas stopped the truck, and looked at Billy.
“I kinda have a place I need to be, what are we doing here?” Dallas asked.
“Upping the tally.” Billy said and he started opening the door.
“Whoa Hoss,” Dallas said grabbing Billy’s arm, “Where you goin’?”
“Don’t sweat it, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“Dammit boy, this is unnecessary and damn dangerous!”
“Ha! You said damn twice in one sentence.” Billy jumped out of the truck and calmly approached the zombies. He strode nonchalantly up to the nearest one (Dallas would swear later that he heard him whistling) and stopped about three feet behind it.
“Ahem,” he said, “Excuse me? Typical.” Billy barefoot-kicked the kneeling former postal worker in his dead ass. The zombie pitched over, landing face first on the pavement. The thing got up, its face a mess, and looked at Billy. It cocked its head a little, and Billy followed suit. It took a step toward Billy and Billy took a step toward the creature. Both of them stopped, just looking at each other across a four foot span. It was like a vile display of Simon Says. Then the thing turned and knelt down to continue dining on the unfortunate victim, ignoring Billy completely.
Dallas was dumbfounded, Billy was pissed. He talked to himself as he walked over to a car with its hood up and trunk open and looked in the trunk. He pulled out a tire iron and jogged back to the brunch party. Billy pinned the weapon between his left arm and his side, and spit in his left palm. He rubbed his hands together, took up the tire iron in both hands, pointed to the horizon, and then brought it around
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