100 Days in Deadland Read Online Free PDF Page A

are infected, symptoms will begin to appear anywhere from minutes up to an hour, depending on severity of initial infection. The more severe the initial infection, the quicker you will succumb to the virus. Treatment is not available at this time.
    We have traced the entry of the virus into the United States to several dozen contaminated shipments of produce from Mexico. At this time, we recommend you do not eat any fresh produce imported within the past three days.
    The superbug is transmitted through contact with bodily fluid of an infected person. The slang term ‘zed’ is trending across the Internet and radio. Should you hear this term, it simply refers to an infected person or persons.
    Due to the ease of the virus’ transmission, all public transportation and air travel have been suspended until further notice. Travel is not advisable and is considered unsafe. If you must leave your current location, expect delays and likely increases in lawlessness. Emergency responders may be overwhelmed. Please be patient and remain where you are. Gather emergency supplies should you need to evacuate to a temporary location. Do not panic.
    All military units have been assigned to contain the spread. All inactive and retired military personnel have been reactivated and should immediately report to the nearest base for assignment. Martial law is now in effect. Stay inside, stay safe, and help will be on the way.
    We will report on all channels every thirty minutes. For more information, go to www.emergency.cdc.gov online.”
    Three tones sounded once more, and the radio resumed to what sounded like a national talk show sharing more information about the “zombie outbreak” and how to protect against zeds.
    “How are you feeling?”
    I glanced over at the man next to me. His hands were tight on the wheel as he watched me.
    “Fine.” I realized he was asking about symptoms rather than my emotional well-being. “Really, I’m still okay.” Terror had long since given way to hopelessness. “The world’s seriously fucked, isn’t it,” I stated quietly.
    “Yeah.” He spit into the soda can. “We’re all fucked.”
     

Chapter III
     
    When we pulled into Clutch’s driveway, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a sign that read: Abandon all hope, all ye who enter here.
    Not that the farm wasn’t lovely. Fields and woodlands went on for miles and miles. Just above a valley, a long gravel lane led us through several acres of woods, with flowers blooming along both sides. The lane opened up to a classic farm setup: a two-story white farmhouse standing boldly alone with three sheds as backdrop. A tabby cat lounged under a tree, watching me.
    Clutch pulled up along the largest shed and cut the engine. The whole scene was idyllic…and very, very isolated. I was alone with a stranger who’d killed Alan and run down several zeds like they were nothing.
    Sure, I’d killed Melanie, so I guess I wasn’t any different. But, what if he changed his mind about letting me stay for the night and killed me? Almost as bad, what if he wanted “favors” in exchange for shelter? I’d been terrified of being alone in this mess, but I suddenly wondered if being alone wasn’t the safer option.
    “What’s up, Cash? You’re looking at me like I’m about to dismember you.”
    Startled, I realized Clutch had taken off his sunglasses and was now watching me. His piercing hazel eyes seemed to see too far into me.
    I blinked a few times. “Just feeling like a fish out of water. That’s all,” I replied in a rush, opening the door and jumping outside. In the fresh air, I stretched my tight muscles as I stood before the sun dipping low in the sky. The weather was beautiful, a spring evening with a gentle breeze.
    Clutch walked toward the house, and I followed. “I wouldn’t have guessed you for living on a farm,” I said.
    “Why?”
    “With you being a truck driver—”
    “I’m from a fourth-generation farming family on this