Read Online The Undead World (Book 2): The Apocalypse Survivors by Peter Meredith - Free Book Online
Authors: Peter Meredith
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
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far bank directly across from them.
I think we should. See that over there? Another storm tunnel. We can go up that for a mile or so and come out and look around. If it doesn’t curve at all we should be right near that smoke .
She didn’t ask about the possibility of monsters in the tunnel—there was always a possibility. They were everywhere , or so it seemed to her. With skateboard in hand, the little girl slipped between the bars and then ghosted through the tall river grass, barely parting it with the slimness of her form, until she came to the bridge where cover was sparse.
With what felt like the world staring down at her, Jillybean followed her instincts and slowly drifted from car to car, pausing at each to spy all about her. Had anyone seen the little thing moving with careful steps they might have thought, by her demeanor, to be a timid, frightened wisp of a girl, however a closer inspection would’ve revealed that her face was hard and her eyes sharp, and that there wasn’t a flicker of fear anywhere on her.
Skill, luck, and the western sun behind her allowed her to cross the Schuylkill unnoticed by anything larger than the feasting seagulls. Once on the far bank she dashed to the tunnel, waited with a cocked ear for all of a minute , and then when no sound came to her she pushed between the bars.
Again the dark was on her like wet on a fish. It seemed even to invade her lungs which struggled for breath. Take it easy , Ipes said coolly. Just start walking and you’ll get used to it again. There you go. Do you want to use the board? It’ll be easier than …
A rumbling from above them stopped the flow of his words. At first Jillybean stepped back in fright, ready to run, but then she understood what she was hearing: a car was passing overhead.
“There’s people for sure, Ipes! Come on.” She began to rush forward but the zebra stopped her.
Now is not the time for the hare , he intoned. Now is the time for the tortoise. Slow and steady wins the race.
Chapter 6
Ram
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
On his way to discover the source of the smoke, Ram spent a few of his remaining hours wasting gas and wearing out his patience trying to drive the eight or so miles into the city. Someone had systematically blocked all the roads into Philadelphia.
When he came upon the obstruction at the intersection of MacDade Boulevard and Ridgeway Avenue, a seven car pileup that not even his hummer could get around, he thought it was just happenstance. He turned back and skirted north, but found the very same thing at Baltimore Avenue and then again on the West Chester Pike.
With gun in hand he had inspected the vehicles closer and saw that the windows of each had been smashed, and not by vandals. Glass in the driver’s side seats but not the in the passenger seat was the te lltale evidence left by a front-end loader equipped with pallet forks. Someone had purposely blocked the roads.
“ What a friggin’ headache,” Ram griped, pushing at the starred window of a Lincoln Continental. The safety glass made it a mesh that resisted his hand, bending without breaking. For some reason it had a calming effect on the man.
“So what’s in there that you don’t want me to find?” he asked, staring eastward toward the city and the little smudge of smoke that rose above it. The barricade of cars was to dissuade humans, not zombies. Either could climb over the cars without too much difficulty and go on to the city by foot, though it was only a zombie that would do so. Any human making the attempt would last only as long as his ammunition did.
This was why Ram kept skirting north, poking east at every street that went in that direction. Eventually he found a way around one of the barricades…or rather through i t. On a street called Ridgewood, the jumble of cars went across the road and right up to the houses on either side. Ram was just in the midst of a curse laden K turn when he had an idea. His turn had been
I think we should. See that over there? Another storm tunnel. We can go up that for a mile or so and come out and look around. If it doesn’t curve at all we should be right near that smoke .
She didn’t ask about the possibility of monsters in the tunnel—there was always a possibility. They were everywhere , or so it seemed to her. With skateboard in hand, the little girl slipped between the bars and then ghosted through the tall river grass, barely parting it with the slimness of her form, until she came to the bridge where cover was sparse.
With what felt like the world staring down at her, Jillybean followed her instincts and slowly drifted from car to car, pausing at each to spy all about her. Had anyone seen the little thing moving with careful steps they might have thought, by her demeanor, to be a timid, frightened wisp of a girl, however a closer inspection would’ve revealed that her face was hard and her eyes sharp, and that there wasn’t a flicker of fear anywhere on her.
Skill, luck, and the western sun behind her allowed her to cross the Schuylkill unnoticed by anything larger than the feasting seagulls. Once on the far bank she dashed to the tunnel, waited with a cocked ear for all of a minute , and then when no sound came to her she pushed between the bars.
Again the dark was on her like wet on a fish. It seemed even to invade her lungs which struggled for breath. Take it easy , Ipes said coolly. Just start walking and you’ll get used to it again. There you go. Do you want to use the board? It’ll be easier than …
A rumbling from above them stopped the flow of his words. At first Jillybean stepped back in fright, ready to run, but then she understood what she was hearing: a car was passing overhead.
“There’s people for sure, Ipes! Come on.” She began to rush forward but the zebra stopped her.
Now is not the time for the hare , he intoned. Now is the time for the tortoise. Slow and steady wins the race.
Chapter 6
Ram
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
On his way to discover the source of the smoke, Ram spent a few of his remaining hours wasting gas and wearing out his patience trying to drive the eight or so miles into the city. Someone had systematically blocked all the roads into Philadelphia.
When he came upon the obstruction at the intersection of MacDade Boulevard and Ridgeway Avenue, a seven car pileup that not even his hummer could get around, he thought it was just happenstance. He turned back and skirted north, but found the very same thing at Baltimore Avenue and then again on the West Chester Pike.
With gun in hand he had inspected the vehicles closer and saw that the windows of each had been smashed, and not by vandals. Glass in the driver’s side seats but not the in the passenger seat was the te lltale evidence left by a front-end loader equipped with pallet forks. Someone had purposely blocked the roads.
“ What a friggin’ headache,” Ram griped, pushing at the starred window of a Lincoln Continental. The safety glass made it a mesh that resisted his hand, bending without breaking. For some reason it had a calming effect on the man.
“So what’s in there that you don’t want me to find?” he asked, staring eastward toward the city and the little smudge of smoke that rose above it. The barricade of cars was to dissuade humans, not zombies. Either could climb over the cars without too much difficulty and go on to the city by foot, though it was only a zombie that would do so. Any human making the attempt would last only as long as his ammunition did.
This was why Ram kept skirting north, poking east at every street that went in that direction. Eventually he found a way around one of the barricades…or rather through i t. On a street called Ridgewood, the jumble of cars went across the road and right up to the houses on either side. Ram was just in the midst of a curse laden K turn when he had an idea. His turn had been
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