Four (Their Dead Lives,1) Read Free Page B

narrowed in front of him. His eyes stayed on the road.  
    “Here, this will help you relax.” Angela leaned close, unzipped his jeans, and lowered her head.  
    She reads me really well.  
    They continued driving south and were an hour from Scot’s hometown. They’d eventually arrive in suburbia, one which was beautiful, with lush green scenery, sandy beaches, and a refreshing ocean. Don’t forget the rich spoiled kids and the plentiful supply of hot soccer moms.  
    Sometimes Scot missed Green Hills, but not often. Too much had happened to enjoy what Green Hills offered. But a part of him felt it time to go home, while another part of him had the sickest of feelings, and yet another part of him wanted to screw around.  
    How he loved screwing around.

KALE
    Don’t look back. Never look back.  
    Grotesque moans crawled into his ears, rotten feet rushed behind him, and sweat filled his palms as he sprinted through the school. Legs flying, hands chopping at his sides, he released short breaths. The school hallways were abandoned but for some shredded corpses and trampled essays. Don’t look back. Never look back.  
    Kale sprinted for freedom when he heard Tonic call out, “I’m screwed back here!”
    Reluctance consumed his fingers but he slowed anyway. A quick turn revealed Tonic crouching, holding a sub-machine gun, spraying an onslaught of bullets at the oncoming horde. Blood and flesh splattered in every direction. CLICK. The ammo clip fell from Tonic’s weapon. Dozens of flesh eaters swarmed, yards away from feasting on him.  
    “Run!” Kale’s lips touched his headset, which smelled like nachos, and he quickly followed his own advice, fleeing for safety.  
    “We can take them!” Tonic remained in place as he loaded another clip into his sub-machine gun. Soon enough, shrieks echoed down the hall. Skin was shredded off Tonic’s body, ripped by bloodstained mouths and claws. Tonic reached back toward Kale in a plea for help, but within moments, Tonic’s arm was pulled off.  
    Meh. Kale continued his headlong escape, passing empty lockers, scattered notebooks, and abandoned backpacks. The horde is right on my tail. Hide. He leapt to the right, landing in an empty classroom. Door slammed. Door rammed. His predators scratched at the barrier, seeking him. On second thought, this was a terrible idea.  
    “Howard, where are you, man?” Kale yelled through his headset. He frantically twirled until his eyes locked on another door on the opposite side of the classroom. A sea of desks stood between him and his exit, his freedom.  
    “I’m outside. Where are you guys?” Howard responded in his nasally voice.
    “I’m pinned in the art classroom.”
    “Damn, dude! I told you guys not to go in the school. IT’S A TRAP.”
    “Just shut up and come help me!” Kale’s words cut off. Eyes widened as the door snapped open. “They’re breaking through!” He backed away, and the infected tumbled over each other, the fallen door splintering beneath their weight. Kale squeezed some type of pistol. He didn’t know the name of it, for he was no commando. Three zombies fell before ammo left him. Alone, once again, with them. He cursed and sprinted to the other side of the room. The infected rushed along with him, reaching out to him as if trying to hold his hand. I won’t put out! A few cut in front faster, cornering him. “Bye, Howard.”  
    Without warning, a stream of bullets ripped through the infected bodies and a voice screamed, “Yaaahooo!”
    Standing behind the steaming pile of zombies, Howard hoisted a massive machine gun. “Man, I saved your ass again, bitch!” He joyfully skipped in place, looking like a complete buffoon.  
    Something murdered his celebration. An approaching force trembled the room.  
    Outside . . . in the hall . . . it comes!  
    Silently, Howard stared at Kale, then looked at the door and jumped. “Dude, run!”  
    Too late.  
    The wall of the classroom smashed down