Death Plague Omnibus [Four Zombie Novels] Read Online Free PDF

the open doorway and had climbed up a couple of stairs. He gazed in complete shock at this abomination, knowing that this dead thing should not be moving. Kevin fell against the wall, feeling his senses shutting down as he watched it, wrapped in filthy rags and wet mud, heaving its broken torso up the steps one at a time while leaving behind a slug trail of dirt.
    Kevin shrieked and raced for his bedroom.

 
    Chapter Three
     
    The general ambience in the Horse and Jockey matched Ernest Belmont’s mood. For a Friday night, his local pub felt more like the waiting room in the doctors, only with less people. He gazed into his glass, wondering if this vile muck was the root cause. He didn’t care what it said on the front of the pump, there was no way that this dark cloudy piss was Hobgoblin.
    He figured that the landlord was up to his old tricks again. Ernest lifted the glass and poured the swill down his throat. There was no doubt about it. The sneaky bugger had swapped the expensive stuff for some cheap knock-off homebrew. He was willing to put down cold hard cash on that little factoid. He sighed again before draining the last of the pint. The way his finances were going though, that cold hard cash was likely to be a couple of pennies and a five pence piece that he picked off the floor a few hours ago.
    “Same again?”
    Ernest nodded. “Please.” Still, he shouldn’t really complain. The stuff sliding down his throat wasn’t the worst that he’d tasted; in fact, it was a damn sight better than the vile potions that they usually served in the Horse and Jockey, and crap beer was certainly more preferable to no beer at all. A situation he would have been in tonight if it hadn’t been for his friend and his wallet.
    The friend in question, Jeff Cano, was already halfway to the bar, a remarkable feat considering they were already on their fifth round. Judging by Jeff’s coordination, or lack thereof, maybe they ought to slow down. If the stuff they were chucking down their necks was indeed homebrew, then Christ knows how strong it could be. Hell, the potency probably altered with each pint.
    The chances of Jeff slowing down were slim to none. His best mate was here for the night. The only way he’d stop drinking was if somebody taped up his mouth, and even then the bastard would only shove a couple of straws up his nose. Ernest ought to slow down though. Unlike Jeff, he had work in the morning.
    He leaned back, his fingers finding their way into his pocket. Ernest absently fiddled with his coin whilst trying to figure out how to divide his next crappy wage. The rent was two months overdue now, so was the payments for their washing machine and the dryer. Then he had the small matter of being able to actually afford to eat. If only he could have found a little more cash on that pavement, a bulging wallet would have been a bonus. “Like Jeff’s wallet?”
    Christ, what had his life come to? Ernest so needed a break.
    Two pints slopped on the table.
    “What’s up with you, Ernest? You’ve got a face like a smacked arse. No, wait, let me guess. Your lass is pissing you off, or maybe that dirty Paki at work is giving you a hard time again?”
    Ernest shook his head. “I wish you wouldn’t call him that, Jeff. My boss is a decent bloke. Mr. Singh treats me okay. The man worked bloody hard to get where he is. I’m telling you, that bloke never fucking stops. He’s probably at the store right now, beavering away.”
    Jeff leaned forward. “Listen to you, man! Just fucking listen to the shit coming out of your gob. Come on, you and I both know that the only reason why you’re not there with him is because your wife told the slave-driving twat that Friday is your night off.” Jeff carefully picked up his pint. “I still can’t believe you threw everything away to end up stacking beans in some shitty shop. He’s going to put you into an early grave, and no wonder he can afford a new BMW. You do know that this is