An Apocalypse Family (Book 1): Family Reunion Read Online Free PDF

buck. After a moment, the shifting and crashing stopped. I felt my head and my hand came away sticky.
    I must have split my noggin.
    Then, remembering the encounter I’d had with the freak in uniform, I shuddered and felt nauseated. I leaned back against the bulkhead to take stock of my injuries. Probing, I couldn’t find a wound on my head, and although I took a pretty good shot to the shoulder, I didn’t think I’d broken anything. The blood must have been from the Zeke last night.
    Zeke. Yeah, that’s a good name for them. Not “zombies” like Romero’s, but something fast and vicious.
    The ferry took another jolt and I grabbed the stanchion next to me. The ferry had either run aground or into another vessel. I rose shakily. Finding my hammer, I cavalierly opened the hatch. I’d had it with this shit; I was either going to make it or I wasn’t. I was not going to just sit around waiting to die of thirst in a locked room.
    Stepping out, I had to shield my eyes from the glare of the brightly shining sun. I looked around the car deck. The vehicles were jammed together like a pileup on the interstate. There wasn’t any sign of the freaks, looks like my brain is stuck with freaks, but I wasn’t about to let my guard down. Holding the hammer, I cautiously made my way to the bow.
    The ferry was wedged up against an abandoned-looking pier. The Humvee that I was headed to last night when I was so rudely interrupted by its occupant was sitting with its nose through the big steel chains, blocking the vehicle exit lane. I opened the door, ready to bash anything that jumped out.
    The driver was in similar shape as the not-so-fat-anymore lady upstairs. The stench was worse than a dead whore in a Mexican brothel. I stepped back and looked in the cab from a greater distance. It wasn’t much better, but at least I was able to keep from gagging. I walked around to the back of the Humvee and opened it up.
    Halle-frickin-lujah!
    I stared at the most beautiful thing I’d seen since I left West- By-God -Virginia: a case of M4A1 carbines, four cases of MREs, and a box of 24 grenades. These guys must have been taking supplies from the armory in Seattle to a deployed unit on Whidbey when all this came down. After more searching and gagging, I came across a box of utility vests and six bags of loaded magazines for the M4A1s. The M4s were straight-up basic carbines. There weren’t any fancy scopes or stocks, just Plain Jane killing tools with standard sights. I checked the magazines to find that although the rifles were not special, the ammo was definitely high-quality 62-grain ballistic-tipped 5.56 rounds. I pulled an M4 out of the crate, cleared it, and dry-fired. These were virgin rifles, never deployed nor assigned. I was having difficulty not crying like a two-year-old on Christmas morning. I also found the driver’s vest stuffed behind his seat. It had four M9 magazines in it.
    Shit! He had a 9mm pistol on him, and I have to find it.
    I dug around behind his seat, dry heaving the entire time.
    It’s not here. Damn, I guess I have to search him.
    I tried to be respectful, but my eyes were watering and snot was running from my nose. My stomach was already sore from heaving so much. Then I saw the M9 down on the floor in an inch of coagulated blood and chunks of flesh.
    “I’m sorry, buddy, but I need this more than you do. Thank you for your service, and God rest your soul.”
    Those were the first words I’d spoken aloud since this all began. My voice sounded harsh and brittle, uncaring; but honestly, I was deeply grateful to this young man who had given his life in the course of his duty.
    I retrieved my backpack from the trunk of the rental car and charged my cell phone from the laptop. It was probably a moot point, but I had pictures on that phone that I didn’t want to give up. There still wasn’t any service, and I didn’t think AT&T would be coming back anytime soon.
    I crammed as many MREs into the backpack as I