Read Online Zombies Ever After: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 6 by E.E. Isherwood - Free Book Online

was useless. The scissors were a joke.
    After a few moments, he felt the air blowing up through the legs
of his jeans. He angled his head so he could see behind the truck,
and the drone had nearly landed on the pavement behind him. A small
tube on its underside pointed at him.
    “Oh, crap!”
    He slid out the left side, pushing his club with him. The machine
lifted off, and he felt it get close to him as he crouch-ran to the
front of the truck. The old Ford was in the middle of an empty lot.
He had nowhere to go.
    Maybe I could get inside the cab?
    Before he could finish his thought, the drone jumped upward so it
was on top of the cab, about ten feet off the ground. The little gun
tube swiveled to him.
    Almost without planning it, he hefted the wooden club and let it
go toward the copter. It impacted the underside of the rotors with a
loud crack. Pieces of wood flew back at him, and the drone tipped
backward. He ducked himself down to the front bumper, worried it
would tip over on top of him and catch him with one of the deadly
blades. That would be a horrible way to die.
    The truck lurched as the drone banged loudly in the bed of the
truck. The blades weren't stopping, but they clanged over and over on
the metal.
    Rather than gawk at it, he ran.
    As he rounded the corner of a building onto the next street over,
he heard the drone begin to emit a high-pitched siren. It sounded a
lot like a cry for help. He found a dark nook and squatted down to
catch his breath, again—needing the break. The sprinting was
more than he could handle.
    While he waited, another drone flew by. It came from across the
street and passed near enough he felt the wash of its blades. It went
in the direction of its fallen friend.
    “Feet, I need you,” he whispered.
    There were no other—obvious—threats on the street, so
he got back to it. Now he was without his chair-club. He only had
what jiggled in his pocket.
    I'm breaking the cardinal rule of life: running with scissors!
    He giggled to himself and enjoyed the distraction as he notched
another couple of blocks. That's when he tripped—again.
    This time, it was more of a slip. He saw dirt or something on the
street, but the low light was tricky. He didn't count on
banana-peeling the underlying layer of fluid. He was back on his feet
in a flash, pants soaked in god-knows-what, looking for the
inevitable attacker, like the previous trap.
    But nothing came at him.
    The debris on the ground was horrifying. And he'd seen something
like it before. Two wide swathes of crushed bodies lay upon the
ground, from one side of the street to the other. The Tiger tanks
made the same horrific tracks when they crushed all the zombies
between the warehouses earlier that day. But these tracks looked to
be weeks old. They'd intermingled with dust, trash, and foliage. But
here and there he could watch a lone hand move or the remains of a
head with an ever-moving mouth. Where there were no bodies, such as
where he slipped, the tanks had left slick tracks of blood and other
gore. Crushed and compacted.
    He tuned it out.
    This isn't happening!
    His stomach rebelled, but he didn't throw up. He ignored that he'd
slipped on the effluence of the remains of things that had been
pulverized days or weeks ago by heavy-treaded army tanks.
    The scissors mocked him from his pocket. He was carrying a useless
weapon in a world where rocket-propelled grenades were the order of
the day.
    Where the tank had gone was not his concern.
    Whose side it was on was not his concern.
    His concern was ahead. He stepped over the tracks and picked up
the pace.
    Running at night wasn't his thing.
    4
    He ran for about ten minutes while the darkness fell. There were
no street lights or other electrical sources. He thought the darkness
would be an advantage against the crazy people who might shoot at
him, but it turned out to be a big liability for fending off zombies.
    Almost without realizing it, he'd picked up a handful of runners.
Among all the