My Zombie Summer (Book 1): The Undead Road Read Online Free PDF Page B

wrist and held my finger along the trigger guard. A shot at the Chevy door would be enough.
    “Lean in a little more,” Dad warned. “I’m not kidding about the recoil.”
    I held the grip firmly with both hands and pulled the hammer back. Taking a breath, I aimed and slowly squeezed the trigger.
    BLAM!
    The next thing I knew, I was on the ground—tasting blood.

 
     
     
     

     
    Dad ran to my side faster than I could swear.
    His mouth moved. All I heard was a high-pitched EEE . I sat up, waiting for my ears to stop hurting. They don’t show it in the movies, but guns are really loud. If I fired every round in my .45 in quick succession, my ears would ache for hours. Fortunately, I’d fired a revolver. If I had pulled the trigger a second time on that behemoth of a gun, no doubt, I’d have gone deaf.
    “That wasn’t smart.” I finally heard Dad. “I thought you could handle it.”
    “It’s okay, Dad.” My ears were slowly adjusting back to normal. “I’m okay.”
    “Here.” Dad handed me a handkerchief. “Keep pressure on that.”
    I took the white cloth and pressed it on my nose. A warm trickle ran down my throat for a minute. Nothing felt broken, just bumped. I licked at my lower lip where the hammer had smacked me. There was a small cut, mixed with the unpleasant sensation of parted skin.
    My bottom lip was split.
    How would I explain it to Mom?
    The Chevy door creaked and fell off. Dirt kicked into the air as it teetered on the ground. Dad picked up the .500 and laughed. “See! Powerful son of a—”
    I had to admit, shooting a truck’s door off its hinge was pretty cool, whether I aimed at the hinge or not. It just goes to show that some of the greatest experiences happen by complete accident. The bleeding stopped. If things weren’t awkward enough, my wrist hurt.
    “Sorry, Dad . . . I didn’t know what to expect.”
    “I’ll hold onto this until you’re more practiced.” He took a deep breath, a sure sign that he was being hard on himself. “Let’s be more careful next time. Okay?”
    “You sure I can’t keep it?”
    Dad gave me a concerned, parental look. His dark eyebrows were cocked, and the wrinkles on his forehead stood out like a washboard. The right corner of his mouth forced his cheek back with a half-smile.
    “I’ll keep it in my bag,” I said.
    “Good idea.” He looked at the .500. “I don’t want to sit on it again. Turn around.” He opened my bag and slid the revolver inside. He then shoved it all the way to the bottom. “There. Now remember, don’t show that to anyone. Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to.”
    I nodded as we went back, but then Dad stopped me and let me fire his AR-15 on the way. Random, I know, but Dad is awesomely spontaneous like that.
    The rifle was fine. I didn’t like how bulky it felt. Hand-held was more my thing. After we slammed a few holes into a wheelbarrow, we passed the aluminum shack and headed for the road, my lip and nose throbbing all the while. When the Explorer came into view, I did my best to clean up, hoping no one would notice. Mom was outside the car, her shotgun ready.
    The two girls were staring at us from inside. For the first time, Kaylynn actually had a concerned face.
    Mom held her hand up. “You forgot the radio.”
    Dad slapped his hand on his forehead. “Whoops.”
    Jewel poked her head through the sunroof again. “What did you shoot at?”
    “Uh,” Dad stuttered. “I let Jeremy try my rifle.”
    I put my poker face on. Smooth one, Dad.
    Mom gave us a suspicious smirk, and then she returned to her side of the car. I didn’t look her in the eye, which paid off. She had said nothing about my face. Somehow I knew she hadn’t bought our story completely, although it was partially true. Dad never made up stories when it mattered, except for that one time when people were freaking out over the government wanting to take people’s guns away. Being the son of a gun dealer in Illinois is no cakewalk.
    I