Apocalyptica (Book 2): Ran Read Free

about to collapse my foundation. So I had it filled in except for this part, which I had reinforced and made into my little getaway here.”
    “Crazy ex?” I asked.
    Carla shook her head. “I lived in Chicago until a few years ago. Have your house broken into enough times and you develop a healthy paranoia.”
    “See?” I said to Jem. “Some people agree that paranoia can be healthy.”
    “Yeah, that’s great,” he said. “How are we going to get out of here? Will those things go away?”
    Carla walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. “They come and go in waves. I’ve seen a couple people who were waiting in their houses try to leave. It didn’t end well for most of them once the meal bell went off.”
    The key to most problem-solving was using what you knew and what resources you had by utilizing a combination of knowledge, logic, and experience. Less often solutions were a function of how much risk you were willing to take. In this case, whether or not I had a death wish.
    “I think I have an idea,” I said.
     
    ***
     
    Let me preface this by pointing out that I’m well aware of how dangerous certain things are, and when they’re appropriate. Deciding to see how high you can jump, for example, is an acceptably risky activity on the ground but not one you want to partake in while riding a roller coaster.
    So when I say that running through the back door of Carla’s house was our best option, trust me to know my business.
    The only part of me not covered in body armor was my head, and let’s face the facts: if I found myself in a situation where my head was a concern, I was probably screwed anyway. The armor fit well, a little stretch at all the joints for mobility, with thin, hard plastic plates protecting most of the vital areas. I had done a fair amount of stress-testing on the original armor the company had given me to try out for them, so I knew it could hold up to a lot of punishment.
    I was counting on the tear-resistant cloth to keep me safe if any stray hands grabbed onto me as I ran.
    “Over here, assholes!” I shouted as I weaved between houses and made my way to the street. The crowd wasn’t huge, maybe forty bodies, but still enough to kill me many times over if I stumbled or fell. Every one of them flinched, a weird sort of shared involuntary reaction, and turned to face me. It wasn’t the kind of predator behavior you saw in documentaries about wolves or big cats. No momentary pause while new information was being processed and added. This was more like a total reset, an almost mechanical reorientation.
    As one, they moved forward. I wasted no time making sure I had the whole posse on my ass, mostly because I couldn’t do anything about it if I didn’t.
    I ran at full speed for about ten seconds, trusting my ears to judge how far the eighty scraping footfalls were behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a comfortable margin, maybe thirty feet, and slowed my pace a little. No bomb to help out this time around, and I needed to give Jem and Carla enough time to do their part.
    I was starting to get a stitch in my side when the Jeep rolled by—and partially through—the crowd of zombies. As agreed before I set out on this happy jaunt, I burst into a full sprint to create some space between us and the zombies before Jem slowed the Jeep enough for me to hop onto the trailer. As the Jeep moved forward, though, I took note of a couple zombies already on the trailer. I guess they’d grabbed it on instinct, but it was not a safe option.
    Carla, in the passenger seat, rolled her window down a few inches.
    “I just saw that,” she said. “Should we slow down so you can jump in through the door? I can climb back and open it.”
    I shook my head. Trying not to wheeze like an old lady, I steadied my breathing as best I could. “Too risky.” I scanned the street in front of us. “Okay, I got it. Have Jem slow down a little and tell him to drive past that pickup down the road and