The Undead World (Book 1): The Apocalypse Read Free

said.
    Brit looked closer at the tabloid picture and replied, “You don't know that. Maybe they have, like, Mad-cow disease or something.”
    The thin smile stayed in place and to it she added a little shrug, as if Brit 's theory was actually possible. They turned up the next aisle and Sarah swept her blue eyes past the soup cans, Brit was the soup eater and it didn't make sense to buy more if she was leaving. Instead she grabbed up four cans of French-cut green beans and a tin of fried onions, thinking they would have green bean casserole for dinner that night.
    “ Again?” Brit asked, eyeing the beans.
    “ You're the vegetarian,” Sarah answered. She wasn't a good cook to begin with, but when her daughter had announced earlier in the year that 'Meat was Murder', her limited skills were really put to the test. “Just be happy that you won't be getting Mad-cow by eating my casserole. Though, I think only cows get Mad-cow disease; not humans or monkeys.”
    “ You don't know that,” Brit said again; it was a phrase she used frequently when talking to her mother. She held up the tabloid and tapped on the picture. “Maybe this is what happens when a monkey eats a cow that has the disease.”
    “ Do monkeys eat cows?” Sarah asked—and was JFK really an alien, as the next headline suggested? She didn't ask this, though she wanted to. It would mean more waves and with her daughter on the verge of moving eight-hundred miles away to live with her father, Sarah was afraid to make even the tiniest of ripples.
    However with a teenage girl even the smallest ripple could be made into a tidal wave. “Of course they don't, duh!” Brit said, rolling her eyes. “But, you know, they like eat anything a tourist will throw their way. McDonalds and shit like that.”
    “ Brit, we're in public,” Sarah said in a whisper as she looked about, ready to unfurl an apology if anyone had overheard the word.
    The girl breathed out loudly as though it was an effort to exhibit the least manners, “Fine: stuff like that. You don't know.”
    Sarah didn 't know, though she thought she did.

Chapter 4
Ram
Los Angeles, California
     
    “ Oh this is going to suck big time,” Victor Ramirez said, running a hand through his thick black hair. He was sitting in a van parked just down the block from the mosque with three other agents, though none were sweating like he was.
    “ You got that right, Ram,” one of the men agreed. “But it's the job.”
    “ But is it my fucking job?” he shot back. “We're DEA, not FBI, or NSA. This should be there shit job.” The Special Agent in Charge, Ron Fillmore only continued to stare out the window, which had Ram getting angrier. “Look, I knew going in that I'd be monkeying around in Mexico, trying to get into a cartel, but this? Do I look muslim to any of you?”
    The senior agent, who looked like he had just strolled out of the whitest section of Whitesville, Connecticut only glanced his pale blue eyes away from the window for a second. “You're closer than I am.”
    Ram pointed his deeply tanned hand at another agent and asked, “What about Shelton? He could be a black muslim. They have them you know.”
    Fillmore shook his head. “Not at this mosque. Trust me. Those sand-monkeys are the most racist people imaginable.”
    “ Is that right?” Ram asked, dryly. “The sand-monkeys are racist?”
    “ What the hell's your problem?” Fillmore seethed, slamming a hand down on his chair. “This is the job. It doesn't matter right now that it should be FBI. Do you know how many mosques there are in this country? The Director has asked for our help and out of courtesy and damned love of country you're going to do this!”
    “ And what happens when this is another false alarm?” Ram asked quietly. “Who gets hung out to dry? Am I going to get thrown overboard as a supposed rogue agent?”
    “ This is nationwide, so no,” Fillmore replied, calmer now. “And for Christ's sake I hope it is a false