Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict Read Free Page B

should do turkey for
Christmas.”
    “We
don’t have any turkeys,” I pointed out, “just chickens.”
    “That
reminds me.” She was standing in the doorway. “We need to move the coops inside
the castle. It was okay before, when we had so many people around, but if we
leave them by the corrals a wolverine or weasel or something is bound to get in.”
    “We
could put one against the wall next to the storehouse,” suggested Mary. “Plenty
of space there, and it’ll be out of the way. Plus, we won’t have to worry about
zombies showing up every time someone wants scrambled eggs.”
    “Jacob
and Lizzy will start tomorrow,” decided Briana. “I don’t see it taking more
than a day or two.”
    Steph
nodded and returned to her cooking.
    “And…”
She stepped close, running a long finger down my chest. “…you can hunt for a
wild turkey later, or maybe a goose. We had that once when I was little. It was
pretty good.”
    “Or a
deer,” countered Mary. “Those taste better. Oh, I know. We can just chop off a
chicken’s head and pretend it’s a turkey. That would be way easier.”
    Johnny
winced slightly but didn’t stop his decorating. Like most children, he was fond
of animals and saw nearly each and every one as a potential pet, but there was
no getting around the fact that we kept livestock specifically so the animals
could be slaughtered and eaten. He was prohibited from playing with or, God
forbid, naming the things. That privilege was reserved for non-edible animals,
like horses. All right, so horses are considered food in some parts of the
world, but hopefully those nations had all been destroyed. Damn culinary
barbarians.
    “Speaking
of chickens,” I said, “the animals need to be seen to. Your turn to help Mary.”
    The
teenager grabbed her coat and checked her gun. Like everyone else, save Johnny
of course, she was armed at all times, generally with a 9mm semi-automatic. I
favored a .40 caliber myself. The holes it made were larger, but it was every
bit as easy to manage.
    “Take
the hatchet,” ordered Lizzy.
    “Ah,
come on. We have plenty of ice.”
    “We need
more water too.”
    Ignoring
Mary’s look of consternation, I collected a pair of buckets.
    “Can’t
this wait?” she complained.
    “What we
have will be melted by morning,” said Briana. She followed us outside and
closed the gate after we passed through. “It’s best to grab some now. Want me
to keep a look out?”
    I shook
my head. “No. We have a clear view. Nothing’s going to sneak up.”
    “Yeah,
you can see everywhere except where the trucks and cars get in the way, the
corrals, the fences, the little barn stall thingees we built to protect the
animals from the wind, the castle itself, the trees, the occasional bird…”
    “It’s
fine Briana. We’ll be back in a little bit.”
    “We’re
good,” confirmed Mary, “so get inside before your belly freezes and Jacob
starts crying.”
    One hand
on her stomach, Briana threw us a smile and turned to go. “Give me a shout when
you’re ready.”
    The
gate, as always, was barred.
     
    *
* *
     
    “I’ll
feed the horses.” Mary ran her gloved hand across a gelding’s muscular neck.
“You can do the goats.”
    I glanced
over at the adjacent pen. Several of the animals had developed a habit of ramming
anyone who entered their enclosure. Maybe it was time they made their way into
the kitchen.
    “Know
what would be nice right now?”
    I began
filling the trough with hay and oats. “What’s that?”
    “Orange
juice, freshly squeezed.”
    “Would
be nice, not that it’s going to happen anytime soon.”
    “I can
hope, can’t I?”
    “As much
as you want. Just about done over there?”
    Mary
double checked the latch on the gate. “Yeah. They didn’t eat much today. Think
any are sick?”
    “The
horses look fine to me, but we’ll have Steph check them in the morning.”
    “So,
back inside?”
    “We
still need to get the ice,” I reminded her.
    “Do