Zombocalypse Now Read Free

he asks.
    You’re not far from an abandoned construction site, so you concoct an elaborate plan that involves cunning, subterfuge, quite a bit of wet cement, and crushing the dog under several plates of heavy steel for good measure. Princess just limps around and kind of looks at you funny the whole time. You start to have second thoughts about the whole plan. Is it possible that you’ve misjudged the dog after all?
    You look at Princess. Princess looks at you. If only there was a way to know what’s going through that evil, canine head. Then, as you stare into the dog’s eyes, something in its gaze tells you that although you can’t read its thoughts, it knows exactly what you’re thinking.
    “Ernie! Get the steel plates!” you scream. Alas, it’s too late. Princess leaps up and tears your throat out in one swift motion.
    You knew you couldn’t trust that thing.

    THE END

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    13
    “Let’s keep moving,” you say. The market provides no shelter, anyway, and you’d rather look for supplies somewhere that isn’t crawling with the undead. Plus, Isabelle’s organic zombie cure thing seems iffier the more you think about it. You need to find someplace to hunker down for the night, and hopefully rustle up some grub first. You’re starting to worry that you’ll wind up going hungry when you stumble upon a grocery store, shining in the middle of the city like a glittering oasis.
    It’s locked up tight, but a metal garbage can through the front window solves that problem. There’s enough food inside to feed your crew for weeks, or even months. Someone discovers a microwave oven in the employee break room and gets to work making Bagel Bites and Pizza Pockets.
    You find shipping crates in the loading bay out back, and use one to board up the shattered window, making the store a serviceable shelter for the night. When morning comes, you instruct your crew to gather up as much food as they can carry. The group, though, has other ideas.
    “We voted on it, and it was unanimous,” Isabelle says. “We want to make this our new home.” She smiles broadly. “If we leave, who’s going to eat all this ice cream?”

    Maybe they’re right. If you decide to wait out the zombie apocalypse with them in this consumer paradise, turn to page 139.

    On the other hand, your gut tells you that the whole zombie situation isn’t going to just blow over, and even this much food will eventually run out. If you decide to leave the group and strike out on your own, turn to page 47.

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    14
    “You picked the wrong day to die,” you say in your best action hero monotone. “And then, uh, come back to life again. Sort of.” You’re going to have to work on your one-liners. The zombie keeps stumbling toward you, and you back up slowly, not at all wanting to touch it. You glance around for something heavy to hit it with, but nothing presents itself. Could you take off your shoes and throw them? That just seems dumb.
    The zombie lunges at you, and suddenly you’re out of choices. You tackle it at the waist, trying to avoid its whole face area, where the biting and chewing happens. It falls backward with you on top, hitting its head against the pavement with a loud smack. You untangle yourself quickly, but fortunately the thing seems to have stopped moving. Well, that wasn’t so hard. You hurry to the zombie’s victim, still lying in the middle of the street. “Are you okay?” you ask.
    “Nnnnnnnnggg.” Hold on. Was that an “ow my leg hurts” groan, or an “I hunger for the flesh of the living” groan?
    “Brrraaaaiiinnns,” he continues, trying to stand up even though his leg seems to be chewed down to the bone. Crap. You hear another moan, and glance behind you to see that the first zombie is revived and back on its feet. Double crap. To make things worse, a mob of screaming pedestrians rounds the corner with several new zombies close behind. “They ate Mr. Friskums!” one of them cries. “Save us!”

    If you