Read Online Z-Risen (Book 3): Poisoned Earth by Timothy W. Long - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Timothy W. Long
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
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building at a near sprint before rounding it and finding the path clear. Then it was just a matter of another thirty or so feet. I reached the edge of the building and peeked around. The Zs were still there, but the shuffler wasn’t in sight. The fact that we had no way to communicate--like those cool little throat mics that the mercenaries had possessed when we were in the city of Vista--sucked.
There was no real plan, except that it was go time. My internal clock dinged at ninety seconds, so I strode out into the open.
The first Z saw me as soon as I saw it. I lifted the wrench in my right hand and pointed the gun with my left. Not that I was ever a good shot, and sure as shit not at all good with my off hand, but I had still learned a thing or two about shooting Zs.
“Hey, you godless fucks,” I said.
Joel was not in sight, but I assumed he was low and at the corner of a building, covering me from a forty-five degree angle so I didn’t accidentally shoot him.
The thing snarled at me. Three others turned their milky white gazes on me and staggered. I aimed, exhaled, and fired, expecting to miss the first time, because I’m sharp like that.
I fired and the Z took a round in the neck. It spun around and dropped to one knee.
The others didn’t care about their buddy. They saw me and thought I was human steak.
A shot rang out, and one of them dropped.
Where the hell was that fucking shuffler?
I took a half-dozen steps, pulled the wrench back, and flattened the Z who was on his knees. His head turned inside out, and that was okay with me. Pulped brain matter exploded and hit the ground. He dropped without another sound and lay on his new pillow of squished and gnarly rot.
A pair broke from cover and came at me. Another shot and one of them fell over. His head snapped to the side like he’d just remembered something. Most of his face was gone. What in the hell kind of bullets had the old woman traded to me?
A pile of car parts that could use a bath in WD-40 provided a decent amount of cover as I dropped to a crouch and took cover.
An old man in golf shorts and the remains of a tank top looked around in a daze. In general, I don’t recommend playing peek-a-boo with the dead. He was dark-skinned from time in the sun, time he’d spent before the change hit. If zombies got sunburned, I kind of felt bad for them.
Kind of.
I switched hands and used my much better right to aim. The gun bucked and the Z fell on its face with a neat hole in the side of its head. Damn, I was having a good day. Three shots and two kills. That was some Joel Kelly heroics right there.
The last Z was slow because he was dragging the remains of his foot. His ripped and shattered ankle hit the ground with each step, making a grinding noise. I gulped and aimed.
That’s when a fresh wave broke from cover and came at me. There weren’t just a few--there were at least ten or fifteen, and they were spry.
They’d been in the small alleyway across from our position. The sun had provided cover, and I wished I had a grenade to toss at the horde, because I was sure that’s where the damn shuffler was holding court.
Joel broke from cover and came in shooting. I didn’t wait around for him to accidentally shoot me; I headed for the side of a building. With my back against wood, I picked a target and shot him. He didn’t drop, but I’d scored a hit, judging by the way he spun away.
A series of loud retorts echoed as Kelly moved in. He wasn’t wasting time on theatrics; he was all badass Marine. His weapon was up and his eyes glued to targets. He dropped three in rapid succession as he strode onto the battlefield.
I took aim and shot another one, scoring a blast to the face. She probably hadn’t been much to look at before death, and now she sprouted a third eye. Her legs went out from under her as she collapsed.
Something blurred across the ground and was in the air before I could fire. Joel dropped his aim and shifted to the side as
There was no real plan, except that it was go time. My internal clock dinged at ninety seconds, so I strode out into the open.
The first Z saw me as soon as I saw it. I lifted the wrench in my right hand and pointed the gun with my left. Not that I was ever a good shot, and sure as shit not at all good with my off hand, but I had still learned a thing or two about shooting Zs.
“Hey, you godless fucks,” I said.
Joel was not in sight, but I assumed he was low and at the corner of a building, covering me from a forty-five degree angle so I didn’t accidentally shoot him.
The thing snarled at me. Three others turned their milky white gazes on me and staggered. I aimed, exhaled, and fired, expecting to miss the first time, because I’m sharp like that.
I fired and the Z took a round in the neck. It spun around and dropped to one knee.
The others didn’t care about their buddy. They saw me and thought I was human steak.
A shot rang out, and one of them dropped.
Where the hell was that fucking shuffler?
I took a half-dozen steps, pulled the wrench back, and flattened the Z who was on his knees. His head turned inside out, and that was okay with me. Pulped brain matter exploded and hit the ground. He dropped without another sound and lay on his new pillow of squished and gnarly rot.
A pair broke from cover and came at me. Another shot and one of them fell over. His head snapped to the side like he’d just remembered something. Most of his face was gone. What in the hell kind of bullets had the old woman traded to me?
A pile of car parts that could use a bath in WD-40 provided a decent amount of cover as I dropped to a crouch and took cover.
An old man in golf shorts and the remains of a tank top looked around in a daze. In general, I don’t recommend playing peek-a-boo with the dead. He was dark-skinned from time in the sun, time he’d spent before the change hit. If zombies got sunburned, I kind of felt bad for them.
Kind of.
I switched hands and used my much better right to aim. The gun bucked and the Z fell on its face with a neat hole in the side of its head. Damn, I was having a good day. Three shots and two kills. That was some Joel Kelly heroics right there.
The last Z was slow because he was dragging the remains of his foot. His ripped and shattered ankle hit the ground with each step, making a grinding noise. I gulped and aimed.
That’s when a fresh wave broke from cover and came at me. There weren’t just a few--there were at least ten or fifteen, and they were spry.
They’d been in the small alleyway across from our position. The sun had provided cover, and I wished I had a grenade to toss at the horde, because I was sure that’s where the damn shuffler was holding court.
Joel broke from cover and came in shooting. I didn’t wait around for him to accidentally shoot me; I headed for the side of a building. With my back against wood, I picked a target and shot him. He didn’t drop, but I’d scored a hit, judging by the way he spun away.
A series of loud retorts echoed as Kelly moved in. He wasn’t wasting time on theatrics; he was all badass Marine. His weapon was up and his eyes glued to targets. He dropped three in rapid succession as he strode onto the battlefield.
I took aim and shot another one, scoring a blast to the face. She probably hadn’t been much to look at before death, and now she sprouted a third eye. Her legs went out from under her as she collapsed.
Something blurred across the ground and was in the air before I could fire. Joel dropped his aim and shifted to the side as
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