Least Likely To Survive Read Online Free PDF Page B

could tell with actors.  “The whole crew had been following the news for a couple weeks, but we figured it was just a flu, ya know? We thought we would be safe.  Steve and I were the only ones to make it off set so we thought we’d try to head home.
    “We were about out of gas, so we stopped at that place, and Steve took out two of the fuckers inside that tried to jump us, but then we ran out of bullets and grabbed whatever we could.  Then you showed up.”  He finished his study of the back of his hands, and looked back up at me with a blank face.
    I couldn’t help but snicker, “A group of grips?  That’s fucking priceless.”
    “That whole story of ensuing mayhem and you focus on ‘a group of grips’?” His brow furrowed and I could feel him trying to make sense of me.  I wanted to wish him luck.
    “Hey, you’re the one who said it, not me.  Don’t get indignant because you inadvertently cracked a joke.” I sneaked another glance in his direction before tightening my grip on the steering wheel.  I hated myself for not at least putting on mascara before I left the house.
    I could feel his eyes on me, studying me as though I were an insect beneath a magnifying glass. Apparently he had come to some conclusion as his expression lost its intensity and said, “Fair enough.  So, Angie, what’s your story?”
    I took a deep breath while glancing at him and cast my eyes back to the road as I leaned back into the seat. “I’ve been holed up in my apartment for 3 weeks studying the infected and figuring out the best way to survive this shit. The power went out a couple of days ago so I decided it was time to get the fuck out of dodge.  That’s when I made a pit stop for guns and food, a little Grand Theft Auto, and here I am.  I haven’t been on the road long; I just lived in the northern suburbs of Denver.” I got the whole account out on one long breath, and had to stop to inhale as my lungs had begun to burn.
    Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his cell and tapped the screen a few times.  He held it up, first one way and then another, “Fuck, no signal.”  He shoved it back into his pocket, and leaned over to the stereo and started pushing buttons.  I watched with interest as he pushed every button, turned every dial, and yet the only sound filling the speakers was the ominous static of white noise.  “Every station off air?  How can every fucking station be off air?!”  I couldn’t hide my amusement at the incredulous tone he took on.  The way he said it sounded as if it were affront to his very nature that the radio could have the audacity to not be playing something; anything .
    “Well, the world has imploded.  Cities are burning, everyone’s dead; I’m sure that includes the broadcasters.”  I wasn’t really trying to be sarcastic, but felt the need to remain on guard anyway.  Famous or not, I didn’t know this guy and for all I knew he could be a mass murderer.
    “I’m aware of this; however, wouldn’t you think they would still have some sort of emergency broadcast happening?”  I was mildly impressed with how quickly he lobbed the sarcasm right back at me.
    I glanced at him, “Not if they’re all dead.”
    He looked at me for a long moment, and then sat back in his seat with a sigh.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 3:  Sleep Is For the Dead.
     
     
     
     
     
    The silence stretched on, as did the miles. The sun had finally made its exit behind the mountains to our right and as we passed Raton, New Mexico, I could see the signs that it wouldn’t be long before we crossed into Texas.  I knew at some point we would have to stop.  I had been driving for hours and needed to eat, study the Atlas, and get some rest if I could.  But stop where?  I highly doubted Motel 6 wasn’t going to be infested, and I wasn’t real keen on the idea of exiting the vehicle at all. 
    I looked around.  As far as the eye could see, I could only make out the