Reavers (Z-Risen Series Book 4) Read Free Page A

of CA
     
    When they found us, Christy and I had been stuck in a little T-Mobile shop, huddling in the dark. Our rescuer had tried to explain the ways of the new world, but none of it made sense.
    She talked about how Bright Star were trying to sterilize the cities. Gather the Zs together and nuke the shit out of them. I didn’t buy it for a second, but then I’d seen it myself: a mushroom cloud the size of God’s middle finger had risen to the northwest.
    We had a lot of questions, but she told us to hold them for now. I protested, but she didn’t relent, and kept her mouth shut about everything except getting back to whatever base they were heading to.
    Her name was Diane, and she’d talked me down from doing anything stupid. It turned out she’d been on patrol with some friends--men and women dressed in black who’d been termed Reavers. Why black ? I’d asked. Because it keeps us from shooting at each other , she’d replied.
    That was simple enough, but I’d heard from another survivor that they were doing weird shit up here, maybe sacrificing people. Another rumor was that they were a cult.
    As far as cultists went, Diane was nice enough. That’s my way of saying I didn’t believe half of what I’d heard. One thing was for sure: someone had been shooting at us, and they’d all worn black.
    Frosty was greeted with rubs and treats. The dog took to people like she always did, with a happy, lopsided grin, and a wagging tail that was a weapon in itself.
    Pretty much the opposite of how she treated Zs, which was with something like anger and curiosity. I’ll never forget the day that Anna Sails and I found the half-Labrador Retriever mutt. She’d been leading a pair of Zs on a merry fucking chase, taunting the undead bastards. Anna and I had put the Zs down and then holed up in an apartment for the night.
    Since then, Frosty had become like part of the family. She was smart enough not to bark to draw attention unless she was in a playful mood.
    Our new companions traveled in style. The vehicle they cruised around in was a brand-new Cadillac Escalade, fully loaded. I gawked at the interior and the soft leather seats. All of the material was stitched except for the wood trim. I touched a piece and realized it was actual wood.
    Thing probably would've cost me a few years' salary in the old world. Now it was just a piece of metal whose value was in transportation--and probably knocking down Zs.
    Diane and her crew had taken us to a small camp, a once-upon-a-time little boutique mom and pop shop that had sold used clothing. Now it had been converted to a small base, complete with corrugated metal doors with murder holes cut into the top, so any bad guys would get a surprise if they tried anything stupid.
    She introduced me to the leader of the outfit. His name was Douglas and he had a long and thick white beard around a craggy face.
    The four or five people inside were reserved, but they asked about injuries, and more importantly, asked about any bites. We assured them we hadn’t been attacked but that wasn’t enough.
    Diane took Christy into a back room, but left the door open. We all turned around while my friend was inspected. I fumed silently at the injustice she had to endure. How dare they treat her like this?
    I was next. They instructed me to remove my clothes and show that I didn’t have any bite marks.
    “The fuck, man? I’ve seen these things bite, and the person on the receiving end of chompers turned fast. If I’d have been bitten, you’d know.” I protested.
    “Doesn’t matter. Strip or walk.”
    I complied, but I wasn’t happy about it. While they looked me over, I noticed a number of bruises on my sides and chest. Made sense, since I’d been kicked around pretty hard for the last few of weeks. I had a couple of half-healed lacerations, one of which looked like it might have an infection. I studied it while they studied me. After I put my clothes back on, Douglas handed me a small packet of