Deadfall: Hunters Read Free

the town, gather whatever we found, haul it back out to the boat, and move on south to the next town. At first, it was a horribly monotonous job made a hundred times worse by my depression.
    Despite being thirsty as hell, those first couple of weeks were horrible. I couldn't stop thinking about her and all I could hear at night when I tried to sleep was her calling out my name. Sleeping was difficult. During the day then, I was my own version of a zombie, just going about, doing whatever I was told to do by Maxie or Aaron.
    I can’t really sit here and say that I'm over it because I'm not, but something has changed. Two months is a very short time, but I think my sadness has refined into a fine aged anger. That anger has given me a bit more focus; it has cleared away the fog that was hanging over me this time. I find myself laughing less, but at least more than before.
    I'm not even sure why I'm trying to explain this.
    Our trip south has been quite slow. If we really wanted to, we could sail to Haiti and be there in a few weeks. Instead, we have to inch down the coast, slowly. We have to chase rain clouds for water and we check every small town along the coast for anything useful. But I think there is another more important reason why the trip is going slowly. We have a destination, but we are completely clueless as to what we will do once we get there.
    My father died and among his belongings was a scrap book he had taken many notes in. The only one that seemed off was a mention of Haiti, a name, Abraham and the name of this ship, the One Star Wonder. The boat belonged to my father’s old friend, Maxie, who we thankfully had along with us. Without him we would not have been able get off the pier much less this far. I had made the possibly bad decision of attempting to get to Haiti in order to find this Abraham and…
    Well, I didn’t know what.
    To make matters worse, I had never visited the island, as had no one else here. And if the zombie infestation wasn’t bad enough, just how were we going to find a man, who was most likely dead, in a small island? The proverbial needle in a zombiestack. For all I knew, Abraham wasn’t even a man, maybe it was a place, or a building, or a donkey. We had no plan to find what we didn’t even know what to look for.
    Just saying that confused me.
    So here we are at Darien, Georgia. It is the second day of scoping the town out. There is a sizeable horde here, maybe forty to fifty of the walkers. We may have to bypass this town, but we will give it another day. The zombie horde is anything if patient, but sometimes, they do wander off if their target isn’t readily and easily available.
    Tague just jumped over the side. His way of washing up. What I wouldn’t give for a fresh water shower. It’s tiring to be covered in salt all the time.
    Of course, the splash has driven the horde into a moaning frenzy. It’s made me think something I have never really thought about before. What drives them?

Entry 73 – Someone’s Alive?
     
    Early yesterday morning, as I came out on deck after sleeping inside (it rained last night) I was instantly greeted by the warm charm of the moaning zombies. Apparently they had decided to stick around just in case we would jump off the boat and swim toward their eager claws. It didn’t take us long to get the ship moving again and headed south again. Coming out of the sound, we caught some more rain and we all took the moment to soap up and wash off in the fresh water. Our water stores were still full so we just enjoyed the cool morning rain instead of trying to gather more.
    The map showed that there was another town just south where we would run this whole ordeal again. It was a town called Bruinswick; just another town set into the sounds along the coast.
    We never made it there.
    Not twenty miles south of Darien, as we began to enter the next sound, we came across what had been a small coastal community. On the map, it was called St. Simons. Visually,