Rotting to the Core (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 2) Read Free Page A

of
Hubba-Bubba chewing gum (original flavor), a small Hello Kitty
figure holding a little plastic sword, an audio CD (Joan Jett and
the Blackhearts Greatest Hits), and twelve more Latex condoms.
    Staring open-mouthed at some of the
“necessities” she always carried, Jake was, perhaps for the first
time in his life, at a total loss for words. Knowing full well if
he pointed out the utter uselessness of lugging a bottle of blue
hair dye through the zombie apocalypse, an argument would
immediately ensue, he chose to remain silent on that one. Instead,
he picked up the strip of condoms. After considering them for a
handful of seconds, he slowly turned his head to give Kat a level
gaze.
    “And you're carrying these because...?”
    “Hey! Unlike someone, I don't have any
problems admitting it.” Kat shrugged. “I like having sex.”
    He blinked, clearly taken aback. “Well.
That's...um... blunt.”
    Cho smiled impishly. “Should I phrase it
another way? Knockin' boots? Tappin' dat ass?”
    Jake felt a migraine beginning behind his
left eye.
    “Humping like lemmings? Ridin' the O-Train?
Gettin' my freak on?”
    Dropping the strip of condoms back into her
bag, Jake closed his eyes and silently begged his building headache
to recede. “You have no shame, do you?”
    “During the apocalypse?” Kat piped happily.
“Let me think. Nope. Not one bit.”
    Picking up her Joan Jett CD, he gave her an
inquiring look.
    Kat's smile grew wider. “Mood music. Never
hurts to be prepared, right?”
    “Forget I asked,” Jake mumbled, and Kat
started stuffing things back in her bag.
    That night and the following day alternated
between tense moments of fear and lessons in boredom. While it was
necessary for the pair to keep careful watch on the dead outside,
none of the things seemed at all interested in their hideaway. It
didn't appear as if the creatures could smell them, or possessed
any kind of weird “sixth sense” allowing them to target a living
human, so that was a plus. Jake had theorized previously that
zombies hunted solely by visual and auditory means, so as long as
neither he nor Kat were heard or spotted peeking through the
blinds, they were safe enough for the moment.
    There were some problems, however.
    First? O'Connor and Cho were trapped inside
Old Hall. There was no way to leave without being seen by dozens
(if not hundreds) of the dead. Making it safely past that many
motivated flesh-eaters, and escaping afterwards without being
bitten, would be a real chore. Even for the two of them.
    Second? If they did manage to break
through the creatures encircling the grounds, the things were sure
to follow as they made their escape. After putting some effort into
leading all those zombies away from their temporary camp within the
airport, they didn't want to lead the herd back towards their
friends.
    Third? While they could use the
two-way radio Laurel had thrust into Jake's tac-vest to call their
group for a rescue, there was a damn good chance the rest of that
marauder party (who were without a doubt highly motivated to
recapture or kill the lot of them), was nearby. Especially after
Jake, Kat, and Elle had ventilated their entire security force at
the waste treatment plant in the process of rescuing Allan and
Maggie. If the marauders managed to trace their transmissions (or
if said hostiles knew the area at all), when Laurel and the others
arrived to save Jake and Kat's bacon, they could end up in a
firefight, along with having to deal with the thousand or more
zombies currently outside. The survivors couldn't afford to go head
to head with a hostile, heavily-armed group like that if they could
avoid it.
    Which was why, after nearly two days, Jake
and Kat quietly sat in one of the second floor offices, drinking
warm Jolt Cola, while snacking on stale peanuts and barbeque
Ruffles potato chips. Yes, they had two MREs left, but they wanted
to save them just in case they had to go on the offensive (i.e. run
like fun for the