An Apocalypse Family (Book 1): Family Reunion Read Free Page B

Inside was a bunch of toilet paper on the top shelf.
    At least I won’t die with a stinky ass! I thought, as I stifled a laugh that threatened to spill out.
    On the second shelf were a few things that could come in handy: duct tape, a hammer, and a couple screwdrivers. The rest of the shelves were full of cleaning supplies. Staring at them, I wished that I had my bug-out bag. Here I am. All the prep for an eventuality like this, and it’s thousands of miles away, I thought, shaking my head at the irony. I had a book in my bug-out bag that had instructions for making a bomb out of everyday household cleaners. I’d no clue how to make one without the book.
    My dad’s voice echoed in my head. “If wishes were fishes, no one would go hungry!” Yeah, thanks Dad.
    I took a closer look at the cleaning supplies. On the bottom shelf was a bottle of bleach. I grabbed it, and it felt about half-full—what can I say? I’m a half-full kind of guy. While I didn’t see an immediate use for it, bleach can be used to purify water. I’d been drinking from the sink in little sips throughout the night, but now the faucets would only give a dribble—another sign that the ferry’s power plant was offline. My search of the closet turned up only one other item of use: a mop. While I was not about to swab the decks, the handle was made of thick wood with a rubber coating for a grip. I needed to break it, but hesitated to make that much noise. Weighing the pros and cons, I decided to risk it. I put it on the floor and propped the mop end up on the bottom shelf of the cabinet. I wanted it to break toward the end. I took a deep breath and put my weight on it.
    CRACK! I held my breath, listening for any sign that I’d disturbed the freaks… nothing. That’s good.
    Turning off my phone, I returned it to my pocket. I was now armed with a four-foot spear in my hands, a hammer wedged in my belt, and a couple of screwdrivers in my back pocket. I couldn’t figure a way to carry the bleach, so I placed it back on the shelf. The duct tape went into my North Face windbreaker. I was missing my 9mm, and my dad’s voice threatened to invade my head again. I found the door handle and suddenly had the urge to relieve myself. Fortunately, I had the mop bucket handy.
    That will lessen the chance of me peeing myself when one of those freaks jumps out at me from the dark… okay, here goes nothing.
    As quietly as possible, I opened the door a crack. A stench assaulted my nose.
    Oh jeez, smells like a mixture of crap and carrion!
    The door opened outward so I couldn’t immediately see very much of the interior. The main lighting was gone, but the emergency battery-operated lights bathed the area in a pool of lukewarm half-light. In reality, it was better than it had been when I went into the closet. It wasn’t bright, but I could see fairly well. My heart was pounding as I nervously glanced around, expecting to be attacked at any moment. Nothing happened. I opened the door a few more inches and listened intently for any sign of the freaks.
    The fact that I didn’t hear anything was just about as bad as hearing something, anything… I stood there for what seemed like an hour, although I’m sure it was probably more like ten minutes. In all of the zombie books I’d read, this was the part where the zombies would grab the door, wrench it from the person’s grip, and proceed to make him into an unhappy meal. My pulse climbed to about 180. Beads of sweat ran down my brow and I had to remind myself to breathe.
    Zombies? When did I start to think of them as zombies?
    I eased out of the door and stood still.
    These things are not like the zombies I was told to expect. Focus, dammit, or you’ll most certainly not get the chance to label the thing that eats you!
    I was startled to see the remains of the woman that I’d tried to rescue. She was definitely no longer overweight. Lying in a wide pool of drying blood, there were only shreds of flesh left clinging