Chaos Theory: A Zombie Novel Read Online Free PDF

or blank means no power. Yellow means fluctuations, green is powered up.
    Most of the country was blank. Just a black screen. Scattered lights of the three colors dotted the map. Surprisingly, one in southeastern Massachusetts was a bright green. I pointed to it, “Pilgrim?” 
    He nodded his enormous nut, (nut also means cranium, get your head out of the gutter); it was the Pilgrim Nuclear Power Plant in Plymouth, Mass. Still supplying juice to some I guessed. I knew that quite a bit of those facilities were automated, but somebody must be alive down there to pull switches and push buttons.
    My brow furrowed and I asked him how it was possible that he could get on the internet. 
    As long as the servers and nodes have power, the clients will work fine , certain sites will start to drop off soon as their batteries deplete. Other critical sites have indefinite power and will remain online, but as the nodes fail we won’t be able to access them.  
    “Nodes?” 
    He rolled his eyes and shook his head at the same time. He grabbed the notebook and passed it back almost immediately. One word glared at me from the lined paper: 
    Noob . 
    That was mean.
    Ship checked several other sites, including a Pentagon site that was still functional and being monitored. They were none too happy about the intrusion and they let him know it. I was actually watching somebody hack a government website. I was in the presence of another criminal. Suddenly his computer just shut off. He tried to turn it back on but it wouldn’t. SOBs bombed me. Was all he wrote. 
    We conversed for a while until the sun went down. Ship didn’t want to turn on any lights, so he showed me to the most uncomfortable couch in the world and gave me a sleeping bag and a pillow. He pointed to his crotch and then to a door that was apparently a bathroom. I nodded in understanding and we went to bed. 
    What’s the most unpleasant sound in the world? Fingernails on a chalk board? Your mom yelling at you? Baby crying? Nope. How about the sound of your cell door closing for the first time? Now that’s bad. Terrifying. Even the cell door can’t compare to the sounds of the undead though. The noise they make is…wrong. It’s just wrong. You can sit there as you read this and moan, and try to make it as spooky and weird as you want, but it won’t be the same. There’s no way you can be alive right now and not have heard them, so you get it. Their cries can’t be imitated. They’re just off somehow. 
    It’s maddening. I could hear Ship’s light snores in the other room, but those damn wails were about fifteen feet below me and they seemed to come from everywhere at once. I didn’t want to plug my ears in case one of them somehow got up here with us, but in the end I got so tired I jammed a .38 round in each ear. It worked. I fell asleep. 
    I woke up to the unmistakable sound of a pump shotgun being charged. Another terrifying sound. My eyes flew open and I stared cross-eyed down the unbelievably huge barrel of said shotgun. I had to pee and my morning missile shriveled away instantly. 
    Not taking his hand off the gun, an infuriated Ship pointed to my leg, which was hanging off the birch wood couch. The bite mark was glaring. It was still red and purple, but it looked much better than it had even yesterday before I took the bandage off for good.
    “I’m immune.” 
    Ship shook his massive cranium in the negative and I told him I had been bitten over a week ago. I had been with him for more than twelve hours and I wasn’t sick. “Nobody bitten could last that long without being sick,” I pleaded as I raised my hands, “so you know I’m not going to turn.” 
    He seemed to ponder this for a moment as his gaze focused elsewhere, then he lowered the shotgun and sat next to me. He scribbled something in his book and passed it to me. 
    Explain.  
    I told him everything as quietly as I could because I could hear shuffling in the snow below us, although the