Dead World (Book 1): Dead Come Home Read Free

relationship? Sure there had been. But the life of a Marine grunt can be a lonely one, and the idea of having a warm soft body at home had sounded a hell of a lot better than the alternative to Mike. As he reached the baggage claim, he wondered if it was possible that she’d gone back home in the last few years since running off with another man. It would be nice if she was there, though Mike well knew that it was somewhat unlikely. It would be nice because … well … after all, they never had gotten that divorce.
     
    She’s long gone by now … no way she’d come back home. Death first, that’s what she always said. Can’t say I blame her. I’ve got Ma … all she’s got is a useless, cheap-wine guzzling, old man and a mom living off of lawsuit after lawsuit. That ain’t no life … not for a pretty thing like her. Hope she’s doin’ alright.
     
    Mike didn’t hate Kerry for the way their marriage had turned out. After all, in the eight months she lived with him in that cozy little trailer just outside Camp Lejeune, he’d only been home for a total of five. She was young, vivacious, and free spirited. Sitting at home waiting for some war-dog Marine was no place for a thing like her. No. Mike didn’t hate her. If anything, he wished her the best and hoped that she had found someone who could make her happy in a way that he’d never seemed able.
     
    I wonder if she’s still with that busboy with all the tattoos. He seemed to make her happy.
     
    Well, made her happy all but that one night when she showed up at the barracks all hot and aggravated, because apparently the old boy had done so much blow that he couldn’t get it up for her. Mike gave her what she came for … and got a VD for his troubles. No one would ever accuse of him of having good judgment when it came to Kerry.
     
    Oh well, I guess it’s like Ma always says. Ain’t no use cryin’ over spilled milk, he thought. After all, it wasn’t nothin’ some antibiotics and a few rough nights couldn’t cure. Lucky for me, she didn’t give me nothin’ I couldn’t get gone.
     
    * * *
     
    As the baggage claim’s conveyor belt whirred to life, Mike took slight notice of how large groups of people were huddling around most of the TV sets that hung from ceiling mounts beside nearly every set of automatic doors. He was too far away to see or hear what all the fuss was about. Who knew? And even more, who really cared ? Certainly not Mike. As far as he was concerned, he’d done his time “in the shit.” His days of violence, of caring about war and death and going crazy trying to fix things in a broken world, were over for good. And good riddance. In fact, he truly did not care if he ever held a rifle (or any other weapon, for that matter) in his hands ever again.
     
    Not my fight … not my problem … not anymore.
     
    Mike smiled at this thought. He saw his large, olive drab sea-bag slide down onto the conveyor. Basking in a brief moment of laziness, he let the bag come slowly to him. He lugged the canvas duffel, stuffed like an odd sausage with all that he owned in the world, over his shoulder. He then headed for the exit, scanning about for a familiar face.
     
    Ma said she’d be here. Where is she?
     
    One hour and a few cigarettes later, Mike began to wonder. He wasn’t quite concerned at this point. Any number of things could have delayed her. Ma had never been good with city driving. Maybe she had gotten stuck in traffic.
    Suddenly, Mike remembered all those people with their eyes glued to the TVs. He went back inside to the baggage claim area and shouldered his way through the crowd, trying to get a closer look at what had everyone’s attention.
     
    * * *
     
    Joseph found it hard to concentrate, knowing Ryan had been sent home early because he had gotten too sick to work. That just wasn’t possible. Ryan Sheller lived to work; he put in overtime hours Joseph didn’t even consider trying to match. He wasn’t truly convinced Ryan