Life After The Undead (Book 2): Death to the Undead (72 page)

“You’ll
never kill them
all.
You
can’t.
There
are too
many
zombies out
there.”

“How
do
you
know?”
Quinn’s
voice was
pinched
with pain.
“When’s
the last time
you
were actually
out
there?
The
threat
can
be
neutralized.
And
you
have
the
tools to do it.
But
since
you
won’t,
we’ll
find people
who
will.”

The
phone
on the
table
rang,
and
Abby
ran
to
answer
it. She
spoke
quietly,
so
I
couldn’t
hear
what
she
said.
She
hung
up
and
turned
back
to us.

“The
cavalry
is
here.
They’ll
be
up in a
few
minutes.
We’ll
take care
of
these
guys.” S
he
gestured
with her
head
toward
the
soldiers,
“and
we’ll
get
you
two some
help.”

I
couldn’t
wait.
It
was
getting
harder
and
harder
to
keep
my
eyes
open.
My
body
was one
massive ball of
pain,
and
I
wanted nothing
more
than to give
into the
blackness.
Quinn knelt next to me
and
took
my
hand in
his. A soft
knock
sounded
at
the
door,
and
Abby
went
to
answer
it.
Several
guards
dressed
in
black
entered
the
room, M4s in their
hands.
My
heart
leapt
into
my
throat.
What if they
weren’t
here
to help? What if they
were
part
of
Mrs. Johnson’s
army?
I
took a
breath.
There
wasn’t
much
I
could
do if they
were.
At
least
I
was able to
take
out
Liet. If
I
was
going
to
die,
I
was
going
to
go
happy.

Three
of them
hurried
over to me
and
set
a
stretcher
on the
ground.
One
grabbed
my
feet,
the
other
was
at
my
shoulder,
and
the third
stayed
in the
middle to
balance
me.

“One,
two,
three.”

They
lifted me up. I
wanted to
scream
as
pain
washed
anew
through
me.
Instead,
I
bit
my
lower
lip.

“Doing all
right?”
Quinn
asked.

“Peachy.”
I
reached
for
him.
“Don’t
leave
me.”

“I
promised
I
wouldn’t let
anything
happen to
you,
and
I
won’t.”

We
wound our
way
down the
stairs.
The
trip seemed
to
take
a
lot less time
than
it did
when
we
went
up.
It
was
hot, so hot, and it
was
even
harder
for
me
to stay
awake.
Several
times
I
pulled
my
eyes
open,
wondering
how long
I
was
out, but it had only
been
seconds.
When we
stepped
out the
front
doors,
the sun
was
so
bright
I
couldn’t
keep
my
eyes
open.
I
drifted into
blackness.

I
reopened
them to find
myself
in a
bed connected to
IVs.
Quinn
sat
in a
chair
across
from
me.

“Déjà
vu.”
My
throat
was
dry.
I
coughed.

Quinn
sat
next to me on
the bed.
He
wore
a
hospital
gown
and
pulled
an
IV
pole
behind
him.

“How
you
feeling?”

“Terrible. Everything
hurts.”

“That
will
go
away
eventually.
Call the
nurse.
She’ll
bring
you
some
drugs.”

“So,
does
this
mean
we won?”

Quinn
sighed.
“I
don’t
know.
We’ll
have
to
wait
and
see.”
He
leaned
forward
and
kissed
me on the
forehead.
“But
there’s
nothing
else
either
of
us can do now. I
need
some
rest.
I’m
in the
bed
right
next to
you
if
you
need
anything.”

He
shuffled
across
the
room and
crawled
into his own
bed.

My
heart rate
increased
slightly,
my
palms
began to
sweat.
How
much
danger
were
we
in?
What if
the rebels
lost?
Would the
soldiers
come
in
and
kill
us?
A
thousand
different
scenarios of
our
demise ran
through
my
mind.

My
body
tensed,
and
I
wanted to
get
up and
run. Then,
I
relaxed.
I
took a
deep
breath
and
focused
on Quinn. He
smiled
at
me,
his
eyes
getting
heavy.
There
was
nothing
I
could
do if the
soldiers
came
after
us. We
tried.
We
did
our
best.
No sense
in
worrying about
it. I
settled
back
into the
bed
and
readied
for
sleep.
We
were together.
Not much
else
mattered.
I
reminded
myself
Liet
was
dead,
and
that was the
biggest
victory
ever.

CHAPTER
22

Six
months
after
our
Overthrow
Florida
Campaign,
the
residents
had
their
first
vote.
They
decided the
fate
of
The
Families.
They
attempted
to
give
them
a
regular
jury
trial, but they
couldn’t put
together
a
fair
and
impartial
jury.
A vote
was
the only
solution.
Surprisingly,
the
people
were
pretty
lenient. I
would have
given
them the
chair,
but the
people
of
Florida
recognized
the
good
things
The
Families
had
done,
and
they
wanted to
reward
those
actions.
Mrs.
Johnson
and
the
others
would
spend
limited
jail
time
before
being
incorporated
back
into the
populace. Even
Mrs. Johnson’s
bodyguard
got
off
lightly,
and
that
irritated
me.
They
couldn’t
prove
he
actually
put
the
zombies
in the
back
of the
semi, so they
couldn’t put
him on
trial
for
it.
The
smile he
gave
me
as
he
was
escorted
out of
the
courtroom
was
pompous
and
condescending.
The
only
thought
that
ran
through
my
head
was
that
he
better
not venture
too
far
into the
West.
Accidents
had
a
tendency
to happen out
there.

Three
months
ago,
they
had their
first
interim
presidential
election.
The
campaigning
was ridiculous,
but it had to be
done.
We
needed
a
leader.
We
also
needed
to rebuild the
government.
It
was
a
slow
process,
and
they
stayed
headquartered
in Florida.
Eventually,
once
the
East
Coast was
rebuilt,
they’d
move back to
Washington. That
would
probably
take
several
years,
but
everyone
was
willing
to
wait.
They
had
to.
What
other
choice
did they
have?

We
lost more
lives
in the
rebellion
than
we
anticipated,
both on our side
and
in the
soldiers’
ranks.
It
made
me
sad,
but it
was
also
expected.
People
were
willing
to
give
their
lives
for
what
they
believed
in, and someone
had
to
make
the
sacrifice.
If
we
all
just sat
back
and
waited
for
things
to happen,
we’d
still be
under
the
rule
of
The
Families.
We
honored those
who lost their
lives,
and
thanked
them deeply
for
it.

I
felt
guilty
for not letting
Lydia,
Chester,
and
the
others
help
in the
invasion of
Florida
after
we
promised
them they
could,
but it
was
out of my
hands.
It
wasn’t
my
choice
to have
events
transpire
the way
they
did.
If
given
the
choice,
I
would
have
done
things
much
differently. I
think they
understood
that.
Yeah,
they
were
disappointed,
but they
were
reunited
with
their
families.
Lydia
found
her
husband,
and
Chester
got
to be
with his grandson. The
end
result
was
the same
even
if they
didn’t
get to
participate.

I
had a
metal
plate
put in for
my
shoulder
blade. After
Liet’s
last
tackle, he
knocked
so many
of
the
pins
out of
place,
it
was
the only
way
to save
my
arm.
Not that
they
would have
cut
it off or
anything,
but
I
wouldn’t
have
been
able
to use
it.
Still, not all of the
bones
healed
perfectly,
and
I
had
some
lumps
back
there,
along
with a
huge
scar.
I
didn’t mind, it
was
kind of
a
badge
of
honor.
I
decided to decorate it. I
found
a
tattoo
artist
and
had
a
severed
zombie
heads inked into
my
skin. The
scar
traveled
down the
side of
his
face,
the lumps
formed
bullet
holes.
It
had
a 3D
effect.
I
showed
it
off
every
chance
I
get. It has
become
my
trademark.

Quinn’s
injury
wasn’t nearly
as
bad.
They
patched
him
back
up
and
he
was
good
to
go.
He
didn’t have
to
go
through
therapy
or
anything
like
I
did.
He
barely
has
a
scar.
A
quarter-sized
discolored
circle,
that’s
it. Well, on
the
front
anyway.
Where the bullet exited on his
back
is a
little
different. It’s
larger, but he
didn’t
have
a
metal
plate
put in his
body.
He
thought
about putting a
tattoo over
it
to
cover
it up, but
decided
not to. He
said he
wanted
to
leave
it
as
is.
Who
was
I to
tell
him
different?
It
was
his
choice,
and
I
honored
it.

As soon
as
we
were fit to
travel,
we
headed
back
to
Wyoming.
Our
place
wasn’t in
Florida.
We
did our
part,
and
now it
was
time to
get
on with our
lives.
A few
Floridians
made
the
trip
with us, ready
to
combat
the
zombie
threat
and
take
back
what
was ours. We
never
took
them
to
Quinn’s
ranch,
it
was
still our
secret.
We
needed
some
place
we
could
disappear
to, some
place
far
away
from the
pressures
and
responsibilities
of
the
“real”
world.
It
was
our slice
of
Heaven
on
Earth.

***

I
stood in the
forest,
a slight breeze
tousled
my
hair.

The
smell of pine
trees
bombarded
my
nostrils, a
bird
chirped
in the
distance.
Something
scurried
in the
underbrush.
I
turned toward the
sound
and
saw the
fluffy
tail of a
squirrel.
I
smiled,
dropping
my
hand
from the
gun
at
my
hip. The
roar
of
an
engine
cut
through
nature,
and
a
Hummer wound its
way
over
the
rough
road. I
waved.
The
tires skidded to a stop, and
Quinn
stepped
out
from
the
driver’s
side.
Pam
opened
the
passenger
side
door.