SURVIVORS OF THE DEAD: FROM THE ASHES Read Free Page B

started at him again! All Harry could think as he fired a final round into her head was, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”
    After obliterating Jean’s head from her bod y, he took several deep breaths, glancing at the carnage briefly. Turning, he walked back into the hall, leaving the door ajar slightly behind him. He leaned back against the doorframe and wiped his forehead with the back of his right hand, which held the gun, to remove the nervous sweat that had quickly developed. This time he did not get sick. “Okay, let’s review here, Harry ole boy,” he said in a weary tone. “You’ve now killed three people and mutilated the corpse of a UPS guy by blowing its head off. What have we learned from this so far?”
    What began to finally sink in given the lack of response from Katy, Edna, and now Jean – regardless of how much he had resisted the thought – was that these ‘people’ were obviously so out of their minds that they didn’t understand what was going on. Or he was truly facing something from the depths of hell as he had seen on TV a short time ago. “It looks like these things may not be smart enough to open a door.” That was in line with what he had learned watching the news broadcasts. They had said these things, these zombies, were mindless creatures, reverting back to very primitive instincts. Harry took a few more deep breaths and allowed the years of training to take over. Moving with determination, he approached each door where he heard pounding along with the now all-too-familiar moaning; he identified himself and offered to help, unlocked the door and forcefully shouldering it open; and immediately shot whatever he found on the other side. With practiced ease he finally began to administer just headshots, as he understood this was truly the only way to kill them.
    This went on for what seemed hours : Going methodically through the building, door-to-door, opening each where the pounding emanated and putting down whatever was behind it. Searching the apartment for any additional nasty surprises, then leaving the door ajar slightly so he would know which units he had cleared. Harry went from apartment to apartment until finally the building was quiet, other than the hammering of his heart and the slight ringing in his ears from the rounds he had fired. Out of forty-six units, twenty-eight had been occupied by tenant/zombies, and two of the units had belonged to Edna and Katy. He’d thought the rest were empty of any form of life, or ‘unlife’, but as he reached the door of the very last apartment on the sixth floor he could hear muffled voices. Knocking loudly twice, he excitedly said, “It’s Harry, Harry Lancaster! Open the door!”
    After a few moments the door to Apartment 67 opened and the very frightened tenant peered out, the security chain on the door still attached.
    “Harry, what, what’s happening?” The young woman asked in her usual whiny voice. “I’ve been calling you for hours! Why haven’t you answered the phone? You need to do something!”
    Harry looked at her in amazement. She’d always been a pain in the ass. Mom and dad paid all her bills, and she was nothing more than a spoiled brat. She was always complaining about something.
    “Are you serious? Things have been a bit hectic around here lately if you haven’t noticed!” Harry said while attempting to keep his building anger in check. What he wanted to do was pull her through that eight-inch gap and slap her.
    “Well, you need to do something! The electricity has gone out and nob ody is answering at PG&E,” Miss Brat said, large tears rolling down her face. “I tried calling my mom but she isn’t picking up.”
    Harry wanted to tell her that mommy was pr obably dead. Either that or running around infecting others. But he didn’t have the opportunity.
    “Who is that?” said a familiar male voice that Harry unfortunately recognized all too well. Miss Brat’s boyfriend; a short, balding man in