Better Lucky than Good (Records of the Resistance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Melanie's face. It danced around, being exaggerated by the refraction as it penetrated the moisture. Clay could hear the screams of the defenders and see the muzzle flashes of their weapons as some of the infected fell. But wherever one dropped, another was there to fill its place in the offensive. The defenders simply couldn't reload fast enough to slow the approach of the horde. Foolishly, the survivors had devised a means to combat the undead with propelled flames. Seemingly, the act had done little more than transform the encroaching undead into flame inducing invaders. Inadvertently, they had set fire to the structure around them.

    The entire upper floor of the white, two storey farm house became engulfed in flames. Thick black smoke poured out of each window, in tall dark plumes. The survivors needed to get out or would burn to death, while the infected showed no fear in face of the fire.  

    Suddenly, a woman burst through a side door that had previously gone unseen by Clay from his position. She was making a run for the wooded area surrounding the house when she was cut off while rounding an outbuilding. Melanie gasped and shuddered, tears rolling down her cheeks as an infected threw the woman to the ground. Her screams were blood curtailing, as several of the undead beat her unmercifully. They circled around her, arms swinging downward on her prone body until her screams abruptly ceased. Clay and Melanie had just heard the woman's life end from where they stood. They continued to beat her lifeless form in unison, her body jolting with every blow. Turning their attention back to the house, they rejoined the rest of the horde, leaving behind only her battered and broken corpse as evidence of what had transpired.  

    The gunfire slowed. The infected had infiltrated the house, and the fire had begun to spread to the main floor. Many of the undead could be seen still pressing their attack on the building, even while burning. From the structure's interior, a hail of gunfire erupted, then ended as suddenly as it had started. A single shot rang out; the sound of the blast echoing through the night-time air. Clay knew that the final defender of the farmhouse was now dead. The pair watched a moment longer, as the house became fully engulfed in flames. The crackling of the fire, audible even from the hill, was soon accompanied by the crashing of the internal structures of the burning home. The infected appearing to recognize their victory as being complete, began to disperse; ambling off in various directions.  

    "It's time to go, Melanie. There was nothing we could have done to save them." Clay offered consolingly.  

    Melanie gave no response in return. She simply observed as her former haven burned and began to collapse on itself; the fire’s light dancing in her eyes. Clay put his arm around her and began to lead away from their vulnerable position atop the hill crest.  

    Melanie's knees felt like gelatine, requiring her to lean hard against Clay as he lead her by the shoulder. Clay on the other hand was working through substantial mental calculations that would generate only little more then a guess, regarding how to get the pair of them to safety. It was clear to him that Melanie's local knowledge, while being an asset, was not at his disposal at the moment.  

    "Melanie? ... Melanie?" Clay spoke in a whisper.  

    Melanie had survived the initial outbreak and the resulting chaos. She knew in the back of her mind that it was by sheer luck that David had found her hiding in her apartment. She was starving and dehydrated; barely clinging to life. Melanie had been too fearful to venture out of her home. Luckily, David and his group had come across her while looking to increase their stores. David had carried her out of the apartment, by means of a backboard which had been improvised by him and his companions. She woke up two days later in the farm house. They told her that she was safe and that they would take care