Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel) Read Free

it was our
parents?"
    "Excuse me?" I cautioned, my tone of warning
earning a sheepish look from Jake. Daphne reacted to my pitch and
looked up at me with guilt. I don't know what it is about dogs, but
they always feel guilty for something. I'd suspect the tiny
poop-machine had tucked away a little brown package somewhere and
was just waiting for us to find it.
    "I didn't mean that," he protested. "Of
course I don't think you're an idiot. What I meant was you're
thinking emotionally, not rationally. It's December. It may be a
bit cool in Florida, but if we tried to make it to Boston we'd be
snowed in before making it even halfway there."
    I slumped back on the sofa and let out an
exasperated breath. "Yeah, I know."
    Jake sat down next to me and took my hands in
what he intended to be a compassionate gesture. It felt more
placating to me. "Emma, we have no idea what the highways are like.
Think about how difficult it was to navigate the streets in our
small town. Even if we wanted to, it would probably take us weeks
to make it there, maybe even months."
    "Not to mention," piped in Vinny, "it would
be freezing, and just because we got word from the north that they
still had power, there's no telling if it would still be on by the
time we got there."
    Vinny had been pacing the same path for an
hour now, and his tracks made a clear impression on the carpet. I
wasn't sure the material would recover if he kept it up.
    "Jesus, Vin, you're making me dizzy. Take a
seat, will ya?" I asked.
    He rolled his eyes at me and gave a huff of
annoyance, but took the cue and sat down at the kitchen table.
    "Do you guys have a better plan?" I eyed both
of them expectantly. "It's not like we can just live on the boat.
What do we have, like a week's worth of food and water? Two at
best?"
    My frustration level had been creeping up for
about thirty minutes, and I could feel myself teetering on the
verge of an outburst. It was one thing to shoot down my ideas, but
at least provide some sort of alternative. Instead, they both sat
there staring back at me as if I would pull the answer out of my
ass like a magician. Meg sat on the other side of the sofa,
listening to our bickering, but not offering any suggestions of her
own. It wasn't like I really expected her to. I was just relieved
she wasn't hiding under the covers drowning in grief.
    "I still think we should go back to mom and
dad's house," Vinny offered, for the third time. "They have
automatic hurricane shutters, and you know their pantry is stocked.
We could try to wait things out there."
    "Seriously, Vin," chastised Jake. "Give it
up. We aren't going to lock ourselves in and hope for the
best."
    "I don't get it. You had a front row seat to
the apocalypse every time you left to scavenge. How could you think
for even a second that's a remotely good plan?" I looked over at
Jake and gave him the please knock some sense into your brother
look.
    "It's better than a suicide road trip up the
east coast," he retorted.
    That was it! The look on his face sucked away
the last of my patience and I felt my cheeks go red. Jake saw it,
too, and after ten years of marriage he knew what was coming next.
Bless his heart for stepping in when he did.
    "All right, all right, both your ideas blow.
We don't need to solve everything today. Let's take a break and
figure out what's for dinner."
    Meg was rummaging through her backpack and
pulled out a checkbook-sized calendar, one of those free ones banks
give you for opening a new account. Like anyone used checks
anymore, even before the zombies. When she opened the wrinkled
calendar I saw black crosses marking the days, she must have been
keeping track. She let out a sarcastic laugh.
    "Yesterday was Christmas Eve, which makes
today Christmas. Ho, ho, ho, can't you just feel the holiday
spirit?"
    "I don't think Santa made the rounds last
night," quipped Jake.
    The four of us sat around the dinner table
sharing cans of green beans, Spam, and corn. For dessert, a can