overwhelmed him and he gagged.
"Suck it up, old man," Chris said with a laugh, but his eyes were watering. "Ain't you ever smelled bad pussy? It kinda stinks like this."
Eric hopped down the last few steps, more to get away from Chris than to reach the bottom. He was about to yell at the kid for being such an idiot when the sheer volume of what he was seeing hit him.
Under the pier and stacked in even rows were bodies, piled three high and running for about fifty feet in length. But, under the boardwalk itself were more of the dead. They were piled two high, three rows deep, and ran in either direction for hundreds of feet.
"Shit," Chris said.
Eric had to agree. He started counting and figured out a rough estimate. "I'm going to say three thousand bodies, maybe more."
"That's a lot of dead. No wonder we aren't seeing any in the area. They've all been killed." Chris smiled. "This is good, right?"
Eric shrugged, covering his mouth and nose. "I hope so. But this means a large group is in the area and cleaning house. I just hope they are friendly, and, if they head in our direction, we spot them before they spot us."
"Should we try to locate them? They have to be here and close."
"No. Not until I talk to Murph and Griff. I don't want to stir up a band, especially if they are nomads and will move on. This isn't a good thing, because supplies are already picked clean in Flagler Beach and Palm Coast. I'd hate to think a large group is around and fighting for the same scraps we are, and moving like locusts."
Chris moved his lips to answer but puked instead.
"We need to get back up top. I can only imagine the disease festering with all these bodies. Hopefully, they move along and we can start burying the dead." Eric jogged up the steps and scanned the buildings on A1A. He wondered if they were being watched.
Chris came up behind him. "Now what? Do we head up 100 into Palm Coast?"
"No. We report back. We need to figure out what we're doing. You ready to ride?"
"Sure. I need to get back, anyway."
"Busy? Jerry Springer on TV?"
"Nope." Chris looked up into the sun. "I'm not a big fan of this heat, especially when you have air conditioning and cold water in the fridge. You can report back to Darlene and the others, but I'm going to take a nap."
"You're quite the team player."
Chris smiled. "I try."
Eric bit his tongue and decided to have the talk with the others about Chris. He was glad he wouldn't be at the upcoming report meeting. The kid was an idiot. "Keep an eye out for people in the buildings and on the roofs."
The dune buggy was started and they pulled away from the Flagler Beach pier and headed north. Eric kept to the center of the two-lane road and kept it slow and steady. The last thing he wanted to do was run right into a walking zombie or be going too fast to turn away and crash.
Eric glanced at the Golden Lion, on his left. In better days, the restaurant was probably packed with customers eating fish and chips, having fruity drinks and enjoying the bright sunshine on the top deck. Now, it was filled with sand, the paint peeling and the tiki bar imploded. This far south, it was only used as a storage place. Eric pulled over.
"What are we doing?" Chris asked.
"I want to see if the stores have been taken from here. Come on, and bring the shotgun."
They stepped over a crumbling wooden booth. Eric looked up at the marquee of a regal lion with sunglasses and sighed. Such a shame. "Follow a few feet behind me. Shoot anything that moves, but don't do anything stupid."
Chris didn't comment, which was a rarity. Usually, he had some lame remark.
Eric didn't see new footprints in the sand covering the floors, but the wind was blowing through the open areas and most of them would be wiped away quickly.
Toward the back of the Golden Lion was a raw oyster bar, where they'd packed items they didn't immediately need but could be used in a pinch, like camping supplies, tents, furniture, motor oil, and lawn equipment.
"Suck it up, old man," Chris said with a laugh, but his eyes were watering. "Ain't you ever smelled bad pussy? It kinda stinks like this."
Eric hopped down the last few steps, more to get away from Chris than to reach the bottom. He was about to yell at the kid for being such an idiot when the sheer volume of what he was seeing hit him.
Under the pier and stacked in even rows were bodies, piled three high and running for about fifty feet in length. But, under the boardwalk itself were more of the dead. They were piled two high, three rows deep, and ran in either direction for hundreds of feet.
"Shit," Chris said.
Eric had to agree. He started counting and figured out a rough estimate. "I'm going to say three thousand bodies, maybe more."
"That's a lot of dead. No wonder we aren't seeing any in the area. They've all been killed." Chris smiled. "This is good, right?"
Eric shrugged, covering his mouth and nose. "I hope so. But this means a large group is in the area and cleaning house. I just hope they are friendly, and, if they head in our direction, we spot them before they spot us."
"Should we try to locate them? They have to be here and close."
"No. Not until I talk to Murph and Griff. I don't want to stir up a band, especially if they are nomads and will move on. This isn't a good thing, because supplies are already picked clean in Flagler Beach and Palm Coast. I'd hate to think a large group is around and fighting for the same scraps we are, and moving like locusts."
Chris moved his lips to answer but puked instead.
"We need to get back up top. I can only imagine the disease festering with all these bodies. Hopefully, they move along and we can start burying the dead." Eric jogged up the steps and scanned the buildings on A1A. He wondered if they were being watched.
Chris came up behind him. "Now what? Do we head up 100 into Palm Coast?"
"No. We report back. We need to figure out what we're doing. You ready to ride?"
"Sure. I need to get back, anyway."
"Busy? Jerry Springer on TV?"
"Nope." Chris looked up into the sun. "I'm not a big fan of this heat, especially when you have air conditioning and cold water in the fridge. You can report back to Darlene and the others, but I'm going to take a nap."
"You're quite the team player."
Chris smiled. "I try."
Eric bit his tongue and decided to have the talk with the others about Chris. He was glad he wouldn't be at the upcoming report meeting. The kid was an idiot. "Keep an eye out for people in the buildings and on the roofs."
The dune buggy was started and they pulled away from the Flagler Beach pier and headed north. Eric kept to the center of the two-lane road and kept it slow and steady. The last thing he wanted to do was run right into a walking zombie or be going too fast to turn away and crash.
Eric glanced at the Golden Lion, on his left. In better days, the restaurant was probably packed with customers eating fish and chips, having fruity drinks and enjoying the bright sunshine on the top deck. Now, it was filled with sand, the paint peeling and the tiki bar imploded. This far south, it was only used as a storage place. Eric pulled over.
"What are we doing?" Chris asked.
"I want to see if the stores have been taken from here. Come on, and bring the shotgun."
They stepped over a crumbling wooden booth. Eric looked up at the marquee of a regal lion with sunglasses and sighed. Such a shame. "Follow a few feet behind me. Shoot anything that moves, but don't do anything stupid."
Chris didn't comment, which was a rarity. Usually, he had some lame remark.
Eric didn't see new footprints in the sand covering the floors, but the wind was blowing through the open areas and most of them would be wiped away quickly.
Toward the back of the Golden Lion was a raw oyster bar, where they'd packed items they didn't immediately need but could be used in a pinch, like camping supplies, tents, furniture, motor oil, and lawn equipment.
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