Controlling the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

I pick them up by a key, but he doesn’t let go, drawing my attention to him. “Two days. After that, I’ll be extremely pissed off and will never speak to you again.”
    I take a deep breath. “Thanks, Peanut Butter.”
    He waves me away. I grab my pack with my various weapons and get the hell out of dodge.
     

 
    C HAPTER F IVE
     
     
    The sun is making its last appearance for the day when I make it to my destination. Standing outside the first-floor door, I expected to feel nervous or fidgety, but I don’t. The door is ajar, and I use my foot to nudge it open. Gripping the crossbow and listening for any movement, the silence in the apartment meets me. My gaze lands on the easel propped up by the window on the far side of the apartment.
    I don’t have time to stare at anything yet. I need to check for zombies even though I’m not worried about finding any. The famished tend to migrate where people are, and I’m sure there’s no one around for miles.
    Making quick work of the simple layout, I check the bedroom, bathroom, and closet—the only closed in spaces. The living room and kitchen is one big space. All the kitchen cabinet doors sit chaotically opened from some survivor looting through here.
    The wall opposite from the kitchen is bare. Dismay runs through me. Of course someone looted them, too. Hockey sticks make a nice weapon when needed, and all of Malachi’s prized sticks are gone. Every one of them adorned by autographs of various NHL players. Swallowing a lump, I remember it’s not like they are the reason I came here.
    Boxes line the walls of the living room. We never got around to unpacking despite living here together for a month. Both of us had been busy—Malachi with school, hockey and work, while I spent most of my time in Nashville, selling my art a piece at a time.
    Stacks of finished canvas pieces lean against the wall next to the easel. Touching the easel, the dried paint is thick under a layer of dust. I tried my hand at college, but it never held my attention. So I painted and sometimes did other forms of art. Not that those skills are what has kept me alive. I can always add stabbing a zombie in the eye with a paintbrush to my mental to-do list.
    I can see you doing that, you must miss it. Wish I could have seen them. I bite my lip and contemplate if he told me the truth or was just being nice when I told him what I did for a living . I decide on the former, bending down and going through the finished work before I can think about it too much.
    After reminiscing for far too long, I make my way into the bedroom. Everything is almost exactly the way we left it. The only difference is the dust and lifelessness. A sense of dormancy tinges every surface, and it gets harder to see through my watery eyes. I take a deep breath, knowing this is good. I’ve always known I needed to come back here. It just so happens there’s an ulterior motive.
    Sitting where I left it, on top of the desk next to Malachi’s desktop computer, is an ancient IBM laptop. One my dad built from the ground up to replace the one I got into trouble with and had confiscated as evidence.
    “What is this?” I had asked as my dad sat behind his desk. The hunk of junk I held in my hands was heavy.
    Tossing his reading glasses down, he gave me a look. “What does it look like? Your replacement.”
    “I thought you said it was new.”
    “It amazes me you think you deserve a brand new one.”
    Only my dad had made me feel shame and guilt for what I done. “I don’t deserve a new one. I was only stating what you said.”
    “It is new. To you. I built it myself.” My dad smiled, proud of his accomplishment. “Still has everything you need on it. I put the extras on there, but if you get into more trouble with it… You’re an adult now, so you’ll deal with the consequences. You were lucky this time. Even luckier to be graduating on time.”
    Shaking myself from the memory, I think I had been lucky. Not because I