Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation Read Free Page B

low rise building, providing the men with a
safe firing platform. After putting down every zombie in sight, the soldiers
would leave. This did not significantly decrease their numbers, but it did
allow for the development and testing of new techniques and strategies, and to
give their personnel plenty of real life experience shooting things that,
despite their vile nature, looked just like men, women, and itty bitty
children.
    We also had
the pleasure of receiving the occasional supply drop. Huge transport planes
flew in from the west and lobbed out pallets of ammunition – this was being
manufactured on the islands – grenades, guns, and a mixed variety of food,
including fresh pineapples. Bullets are nice, but I think our people hold the
pineapples in the highest regard. It never took more than a day or two for the
entire lot to be eaten.
     
    *
* *
     
    August
again rolled around, and we entered the fourth year of the zombie apocalypse. At
first, not much changed. Our friends in Yellowstone remained hidden within the
forest, expanding their settlement and preparing as best they could. Likewise,
Briana and I mostly stayed put, fortifying, fortifying, and fortifying some
more. I also oversaw several scavenging raids into Rapid City and the Air Force
base in an effort to recover items of value. By that point, the Black Hills had
been stripped bare. Houses were torn apart for wiring, pipes, lumber, shingles,
and so forth – there had been discussions about using them for living space,
but for security reasons we chose to remain in our hard to reach valleys – the
same for commercial buildings.
    We had
another great harvest that fall, although the potato crop was a little
lackluster. So much for a ready supply of fries and tater tots. In December,
Briana celebrated her twenty first birthday. She’s getting old, but her figure
is as good as ever, lots of curves and no extra weight in the bad places. I’m
sure she’ll slap me after reading this.
    Then, in
the depths of winter, the raiders returned. We believe they’d separated into
numerous small bands around the time of their disappearance. A few of these
never moved, namely the ones tending their farms and cattle herds. There had
been no trace of the remainder, however, until reports began to drift in
indicating they were traveling throughout the west. The piece of news that
really got our attention came out of Oregon. A group of survivors living in the
mountains was attacked, suddenly and without warning. This was a small band of
sixty eight, mostly adults. They were also in regular contact with the military,
operating as a landward facility where helicopters could refuel. Assistance was
immediately requested.
    The
soldiers, who were there in just under six hours, arrived too late. The women
and most of the children had been raped or sodomized. An even dozen of the men
were impaled, and three of the ladies had been tied to stakes and burned alive,
the word “bitch” having first been carved into their foreheads, deep enough to
etch the skull. Their fury up, the aircraft ferrying the ground troops went
searching. They soon spotted the raiders driving along a back road on their
motorcycles. It’s terrifying what a well placed, five hundred pound bomb can
do.
    While I
applaud the efficient extermination of this filth, I feel it is necessary to
comment on how so much pain and sorrow could have been avoided if the Air Force
had reacted similarly when Salt Lake City was being attacked. Of the forty
thousand who fled that place, a few hundred joined us. About three thousand
eventually made it to the islands or were otherwise accounted for. Of the rest…
No one knows. Their excuses, and they are excuses, don’t interest me. The
military, or perhaps some remnant of the original civilian government, failed
us.
    In
locating and tracking the raiders once they started to group together again,
the armed forces performed significantly better. The prophet is believed to be
in