Read Online The Undead World (Book 2): The Apocalypse Survivors by Peter Meredith - Free Book Online Page B

three Dobermans, and a Labrador. These were the first live dogs he had seen since…he couldn’t remember when. “And they’re certainly not wild,” he added, realizing what their strange, quiet barking meant: their vocal cords had been surgically severed.
    Ram holstered his gun. He wasn’t about to kill a real dog. Instead, he eased lower and began to croon a long stream of happy sounding nonsense hoping that it would calm the beasts down. It did, to a degree, just not one that allowed him to feel safe enough to climb down.
    “Well this sucks,” Ram said, giving up after a while. “Look fellas, I can’t stay up here all day. I’ve got to get going…”
    Just then a pair of pick-up trucks came racing down the road toward him; the beds of both were crammed with men, each armed to the teeth. When they got close, the trucks slowed and the men came piling out, calling the dogs to them.
    Ram eyed the men close and with disappointment noted that they were all white, which meant it wasn’t likely that Cassie was within the bounds of the walled golf course. Still, they might have heard something of her passing.
    With a little wave of friendly gratitude, Ram climbed down and came forward to greet them. “Thanks. It’s not every day a guy gets treed like a…”
    “Shut the fuck up and get those hands in the air!” one of the men ordered, adding, much to Ram’s astonishment, “Spic.”
    “Spic?” Ram repeated, half in shock, half in anger. He was about to throw down a challenge, however the man’s clear hatred wasn’t singular; all of the men glared at him and it was only then that he noted how their guns were trained straight on his chest. “What’s going on here?” he asked, raising his hands to shoulder height.
    “Get those hands higher,” an older man with a patchy grey beard growled. “And turn around nice and easy.”
    Ram shrugged and did as he was told. He wasn’t exactly scared of being shot since his life’ s meter was running down anyway, as evidenced by the fact that he was already starting to feel a little queer inside. His main worry was that out of spite they would allow him to turn; a fate worse than death in his mind.
    When he spun in place to face the rows of cargo containers, rough hands yanked out his Beretta and then he was pushed to his knees where he was thoroughly and properly frisked. “I also dropped a M16 over there in the grass,” he said helpfully. When they had gone through his pockets he began to get up.
    “Stay down, Spic,” one of them demanded, threatening him with a rifle.
    With a roll of his eyes, Ram got up anyway. “Are you that afraid of me? There are ten of you and you’re all armed for goodness sakes. Now really, what’s going on? What’s with the rough treatment?”
    One of the men came forward and his blue eyes were like hard diamonds. He pressed a long barreled shotgun into Ram’s chest and said in a soft voice, “I should plug you right now.”
    The older man, the one with the grizzled beard put a hand out and said, “Let’s find out what he knows first, Scott. There’ll be time for revenge later.”
    The word revenge got Ram’s attention more than the shotgun did. “Revenge? What happened?” he asked quickly. “Was there a girl? A black girl? I’m looking for a girl named Cassie. She’s a murderer. She killed my… someone close to me.”
    “Doesn’t surprise me,” the younger man drawled with a stony sneer. “We learned the hard way you can’t trust the blacks…or the spics.” Ram began to splutter in anger over this, but the man nodded to his friends who grabbed Ram and wrestled him down to the ground. And then, when he was trapped beneath them, Scott pushed the shotgun down onto Ram’s left palm, pinning his hand to the dirt. “You’re going to tell me what you’re doing here or I’m going to take off this hand in a manner you aren’t going to much like.”
    It was clear he wasn’t playing games, yet Ram was so bewildered that