Decay (Book 2): Humanity Read Online Free PDF

truck, Charlie Butler, is a man of average height in his early twenties who was in and out of jail before the attacks. Nothing serious, Charlie was a mischief maker, a little graffiti here; public intox there. Weed before it was legalized (which was only shortly before the collapse of society). He watched for a moment as the vehicles headed up the path. He then used the plow to build up a snow pile at the entrance of the mountain road. After completing a five-point turn he had the large truck facing up the mountain. Charlie began his drive back to the town, but movement in the trees to his left caught his eye. The dead woman came from out into the clearing and shuffled slowly through the deep snow toward him.
    Charlie lit a joint and cracked the window just enough to suck the smoke out. Then he grinded the transmission into reverse and backed up, angling his truck as he did. He aligned the front of the truck with the dead woman, and he drove forward. She was knocked off her feet and rolled up into a snow pile before being smashed between the plow and a thick tree. Laughing the whole time, he backed up and smashed her again; the chain-wrapped tires on the heavy truck had no problem finding traction.
    He backed up once more, checked that there were no other dangers in the area, and climbed out of the cab. A twisted smile formed on his smooth face as he looked down at the snow pile. Pot smoke rolled through his smile as he exhaled a lungful of the gray vapor. The woman’s neck twitched as she tried to move her head. Her broken fingers squirmed and her right foot came to rest next to her left shoulder. Thick blood crept from her face and turned the snow dark red.
    “Don’t go anywhere,” Charlie laughed. He leaned down close to her and flicked the ashes from his joint in her left eye. The woman gnawed in a hopeless attempt to bite his hand. He stood up, looked around, and unzipped his pants. “Looks like ya got something in your eye. I’ll wash it out for ya,” he said as he laughed again. The stream of piss was dark yellow and reeked of stagnant dehydration.
    “Don’t eat the yellow sn—“
    He was interrupted as a hand reached into his mouth. The cold, slimy fingers triggered his gag reflex, causing him to vomit. What was left of his breakfast had nowhere to go with the fingers blocking their exit, so they built up in his throat, blocking his airway.
    Charlie grabbed the disgusting arm with both hands and tried to pull the slimy fingers from his mouth, but the undead hand had a tight grip on his bottom jaw. With no other choice, he bit down hard, finding it tougher to bite through the bones in the decaying fingers than he thought it would be. Just as the whole world began to spin out of control, he managed to grind through the fingers. His stomach contents, as well as the dead fingers, spewed out onto the rotting arm.
    Cold, fresh air rushed into his lungs, and it burned like hell. He fell back into the snow, his vision still blurry and the world still spinning as if he was riding a carousel that was built for torture. He laughed slightly, but it was a scared laugh. “Let me put my dick away. Then I’m gonna fuck you up,” he said as he did so. The front of his jeans was soaked. He caught a quick glimpse of the dead man that had attacked him, but all he could really make out was the blood-stained blue jacket. Vomit oozed from his sleeve.
    Another set of hands grabbed him by his shoulders, ushering a scream. He looked into the new attackers face through his tears. The little girl’s eyes dangled like mirror dice, hanging by the optic nerve. Her dried skin cracked in the freezing temperatures of the mountain. As Charlie tried to fight his way free of the girl, the dead man plunged his five-fingered hand into his mouth. The dead man clutched Charlie’s jaw, jerking and twisting until it shattered, sending shrill screams through the mountains.
     
    Laikynn climbed out of the BMW and smiled at Jonathan as he walked up