Read Online The Queen of the Dead by Vincenzo Bilof - Free Book Online
Authors: Vincenzo Bilof
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between his teeth while murmurs in the hangar reverberated in that confined space.
Jack didn’t know what to think. Once again, he realized he was standing against the wall in gym class, waiting for that moment when he would be the last one picked to play, or maybe not picked at all.
“Who are you?”
They waited for the cowboy to answer while he twisted the toothpick between his teeth.
“Clint. Eastwood.”
MINA
The first order of business of the day was Jim’s experiment. Mina was amazed at his intellect, and there was a part of her that wished she could be as smart as he was.
Jim didn’t share the plan with her; she was supposed to hide and wait while he gathered materials for his “special project”. This involved sitting behind a car while Jim tinkered around in an electronics store. She sat beneath tree branches that reached over the avenue, casting shadows that swayed through the slow wind. If it weren’t for the occasional scream drifting into the street, it would have been just another lazy summer afternoon, with the empty serenity of a Sunday in which everyone stayed indoors with their air conditioning cranked up. The street smelled like barbecue and diarrhea.
She already discarded the zombie-priest she had tied to her waist after leaving the church. He was getting a bit heavy.
The epidemic had extended beyond the borders of Detroit; she was sitting in the middle of Gratiot, a main street running through the city that connected several cities in Macomb County. This section of the street near Detroit was separated in half by an island down the middle for traffic moving east or west along the corridor.
For as many abandoned cars that burned or had crashed into others, there weren’t many corpses walking around. It seemed as if everyone had quit the apocalypse; they fled into their homes and locked their doors, abandoning the streets to the violence of the hungry dead and the rioters. The barricade set up along the East Pointe-Detroit border had only been three cop cars, and the former policemen were still walking around the position they once defended, staring up at the sky with glassy eyes.
The suburban streets and all the other main roads that connected to Gratiot didn’t have the benefit of a police barricade. Detroit’s scant resources had been over-extended in vain. The county’s cash-strapped force had been thrown into the meat-grinder for nothing.
Her mind was running amok. Her thoughts didn’t feel as though they belonged to her.
More than twenty-four hours passed since the last time she took medication.
Her stomach rumbled. It was time to eat.
A long shadow blotted out the sun, and Mina’s heart skipped a beat.
Attired in his bloody priest attire, Jim stood with the shotgun he’d stolen from a dying soldier and a plastic bag in the other hand.
“There was somebody hiding out in there,” Jim said. “Sorry for the delay. I left them inside with their kneecaps shattered. I was thinking of you. You must be hungry.”
“I’m not so sure.” Mina shook her head. “I wanted to be with Patrick. We were supposed to be together. I just left him, and I don’t know why. You’ve been so nice to me and I’ve had fun. After everything I told you, I don’t understand what’s going on… I caused it all. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t want Jake to die, although I always wanted to eat him.”
Jim knelt beside her. His square-jawed, all-American look could have been the plaster face of a mannequin in a preppy-clothes mall store. There wasn’t a mark on his face, and his eyes were always halfway between thoughtfulness and daydreaming, as if each object he looked upon was worthy of philosophical inquiry. A strand of brown hair that was combed neatly over the side of his head slipped over one of his eyes, and he smiled.
“Dearest Mina.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve inspired me. You’re my muse. Without you, killing people isn’t as fun, and
Jack didn’t know what to think. Once again, he realized he was standing against the wall in gym class, waiting for that moment when he would be the last one picked to play, or maybe not picked at all.
“Who are you?”
They waited for the cowboy to answer while he twisted the toothpick between his teeth.
“Clint. Eastwood.”
MINA
The first order of business of the day was Jim’s experiment. Mina was amazed at his intellect, and there was a part of her that wished she could be as smart as he was.
Jim didn’t share the plan with her; she was supposed to hide and wait while he gathered materials for his “special project”. This involved sitting behind a car while Jim tinkered around in an electronics store. She sat beneath tree branches that reached over the avenue, casting shadows that swayed through the slow wind. If it weren’t for the occasional scream drifting into the street, it would have been just another lazy summer afternoon, with the empty serenity of a Sunday in which everyone stayed indoors with their air conditioning cranked up. The street smelled like barbecue and diarrhea.
She already discarded the zombie-priest she had tied to her waist after leaving the church. He was getting a bit heavy.
The epidemic had extended beyond the borders of Detroit; she was sitting in the middle of Gratiot, a main street running through the city that connected several cities in Macomb County. This section of the street near Detroit was separated in half by an island down the middle for traffic moving east or west along the corridor.
For as many abandoned cars that burned or had crashed into others, there weren’t many corpses walking around. It seemed as if everyone had quit the apocalypse; they fled into their homes and locked their doors, abandoning the streets to the violence of the hungry dead and the rioters. The barricade set up along the East Pointe-Detroit border had only been three cop cars, and the former policemen were still walking around the position they once defended, staring up at the sky with glassy eyes.
The suburban streets and all the other main roads that connected to Gratiot didn’t have the benefit of a police barricade. Detroit’s scant resources had been over-extended in vain. The county’s cash-strapped force had been thrown into the meat-grinder for nothing.
Her mind was running amok. Her thoughts didn’t feel as though they belonged to her.
More than twenty-four hours passed since the last time she took medication.
Her stomach rumbled. It was time to eat.
A long shadow blotted out the sun, and Mina’s heart skipped a beat.
Attired in his bloody priest attire, Jim stood with the shotgun he’d stolen from a dying soldier and a plastic bag in the other hand.
“There was somebody hiding out in there,” Jim said. “Sorry for the delay. I left them inside with their kneecaps shattered. I was thinking of you. You must be hungry.”
“I’m not so sure.” Mina shook her head. “I wanted to be with Patrick. We were supposed to be together. I just left him, and I don’t know why. You’ve been so nice to me and I’ve had fun. After everything I told you, I don’t understand what’s going on… I caused it all. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t want Jake to die, although I always wanted to eat him.”
Jim knelt beside her. His square-jawed, all-American look could have been the plaster face of a mannequin in a preppy-clothes mall store. There wasn’t a mark on his face, and his eyes were always halfway between thoughtfulness and daydreaming, as if each object he looked upon was worthy of philosophical inquiry. A strand of brown hair that was combed neatly over the side of his head slipped over one of his eyes, and he smiled.
“Dearest Mina.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve inspired me. You’re my muse. Without you, killing people isn’t as fun, and
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