My Zombie Summer (Book 1): The Undead Road Read Free

food in there!
    And if the engine was running, fast food!
    “Do we have bullets for this?” Jewel asked.
    Mom sighed. “Check the bag if you must.”
    Jewel and I locked eyes. “Dibs!” she said.
    She won that round. I pocketed my .45 while Jewel reached for the bag, grunting as she tugged. “Need help here . . .” The bag’s weight took me by surprise. Jewel found the zipper and opened the duffle. “Holy Toledo!” she cried. “That’s a lot. How’d you carry this, Dad?”
    “ Buns of Steel , princess,” he said, smiling again, “and a whole lot of adrenaline.”
    Mom shook her head. “You used my DVDs . . .”
    Several boxes of ammunition were inside the bag. I wasn’t familiar with some of it, so I reached in and searched for the ones we normally used: three and a half boxes of .45, a 200 round package of .40, lots of .22, tons of 12 Gauge shells, and an opened case of 5.56 mm. This bag would keep us well stocked for a while.
    “Which one goes with mine?” Jewel asked.
    “Don’t jostle the bag,” Dad warned. “We need to take inventory before we make our turn for David City—and the thirty-aught-six goes to yours, Jewel.”
    “These.” I pointed at the 30.06 boxes. Knowing this surprised me.
    She grabbed a box and opened it. “Are these bigger than Dad’s?”
    “Are you sure she can handle that?” Mom asked.
    Dad shrugged. “She’ll have to. If we want proper cover, she’ll need proper weight behind her shots, something that will knock those things off their feet.”
    “And her with it!” Mom turned back and glanced at me before looking at my sister. “Don’t get your hopes up. If it’s too much, we won’t make you use it.”
    Jewel rolled her eyes. “I nailed that Stalker chasing you, Mom. Relax.”
    Mom twisted around and stared at the road ahead. “Relax . . . while my children are using guns . . .”
    In a perfectly normal world, I would totally side with my mom. I never thought I’d sport dueling pistols in a million years, but depending on the situation, every rule is subject to change. My parents started another conversation on the matter, so I checked the magazine of my .40. Ten out of fourteen rounds left. I reloaded that one, too. Yeah. Things were sure different now.
    Not even the end of the world was enough to convince Mom that, without a real civilization, there were no rules. If you can handle a firearm, your chance of survival against Vectors is that much greater. And not just Vectors. The living can also be dangerous. That’s what every zombie movie has taught me, at any rate.
    “Traffic ahead,” Dad said. “Keep your eyes open.”
    Both Jewel and I leaned to the front and saw a Wolf Pack ahead, or what we called a bunch of highway hogging cars. We hadn’t seen one in a while. These little groupings had the tendency to harbor two things: stuff-for-grabs and the undead, monsters waiting for their hapless victims. We’d stopped twice at roadblocks like this one, once to siphon gas and the other to find food. Both places crawled with the undead, hiding under cars.
    No one spoke as we passed the first vehicle and neared the second. I was checking for signs of life as we drove by. Nothing unusual. No people, living or dead, but some doors were left open. We had enough food and water, a half tank of gas, and a recently acquired bag of armory goods. If we made a stop here, it would have to be for something special. And that’s when I saw a golden retriever in the back of an RV. “Look!”
    Dad slowed the car to a stop. “What is it?”
    “It’s a dog.” I half-hoped to see someone with it.
    “Where?” Jewel climbed to my side and gaped through my window.
    Mom leaned over Dad to see. “Poor baby . . . how long has it been in there?”
    An uneasy frown appeared on Dad’s face. “We’re not stopping for a dog.”
    “We can’t leave it,” Mom said. “That’s cruel.”
    “Crueler than letting it get eaten by something?”
    “Come on, Dad,” Jewel