(Book 2)What Remains Read Online Free PDF Page A

Still, I saw the state of
things and knew we could not stay here forever. A mass of undead
would easily break through the windows if they so desired, and I
was sure my heroic wife had come to the same realization.
    Concealment was our primary defense. Sarah knew
this and used it as a motivator in blocking the windows. The back
yard privacy fence was all that kept the infected from accessing
and subsequently breaching more vulnerable areas. Limited, subtle
activity in the kitchen was only possible because of the hidden
vantage point granted by the fence.
    Our next door neighbor’s house and the house
behind us had some view inside the fence. Sarah told me she watched
both properties closely. Thus far there had been no signs of life,
or otherwise. If either residence had a zombie inside, there was
always the chance it could see us and draw attention from those
roaming around the street.
    Of course, I had drawn ample attention with my
kamikaze mission into the neighborhood. Groups of undead flocked to
the area hearing the blazing gunfire from my pilfered Taurus 1911
pistol as well as from Sarah’s shotgun powered rescue. Some stayed
around the fence, from where I was pulled to safety, for days after
the incident. Many others wandered around the front yard almost
like buzzards following the lingering trail of my blood.
    The attention span of the undead could act as
the poster child for un-medicated Attention Deficit Disorder. This
became obvious with how quickly the pursuing horde lost interest
and moved on. Naturally, it would have been too convenient if all
of them left. A small group still blocked the entrance to the
cul-de-sac like rotting sentries. Our incognito status was all that
prevented them from banging on the walls.
    Moving around the safe areas of the house
definitely helped my recovery. I felt less stiff and the pain
became more manageable by the minute, even without narcotics. A lot
of the pain management was mental. Being able to see and interact
with my loved ones provided a pleasant distraction.
    Soon I was able to make it up into the attic
without the intense struggle. My reward for freely reaching the
second level was a detailed explanation of what the kids imagined
up to pass the time. The complicated rules of my babies’ games were
beyond me. I implemented the ‘smile and nod’ tactic while just
enjoying the conversation.
    They’d managed to convert the drab storage area
to something quite livable. Nearly every box was opened then
flattened to provide some extra insulation against the rafters.
Three nest-like piles of softness served as beds. The makeshift
mattresses were lined close together, which told me that the nights
were spent huddling together for warmth and/or safety.
    Just like any typical attic, ours had two
venting outlets on each end of the expanse. Both had been
thoroughly obstructed. This wasn’t a living area by design, so the
vents let out a lot of precious heat. Of equal concern was the
threat of sounds leaking down to the hungry ears of outside
predators.
    Upon closer inspection, I noticed that one of
the bordering boxes in the pile that blocked the vent was placed
differently. Sloppy gaps in the tight packing made it seem like the
differently placed section had been pulled away many times. Through
one of the gaps I saw the fray of fabric. Maddox saw that I noticed
the fabric addition and chimed in, “That was my idea, Daddy!”
    “Oh?” I tried to conceal the startle his proud
outburst gave me. “What exactly is it I’m looking at?”
    He eagerly looked to Sarah, who gave a nod of
approval. Calise reacted like this was a routine. Her dainty little
hands covered her mouth just as they do whenever she feels the urge
to talk during a movie.
    Maddox grabbed me by the hand, pulled me closer
and whispered, “You have to stay quiet while it’s open.” He moved
his hand, a miniature replica of my own, up to the box and gently
eased it away from the rest of the wall. Behind it was a