Order of the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

burning carcass shooting sparks from its grizzled remains.
    “Do you understand, Rosemary?” he asked.
    She nodded.
    “Good.”
    He noticed movement in the periphery,
turned to track it, and his eyes found the tree line, but he could still see
only the shifting of the shadows there. Apparently, musical chairs in the
autumn moonlight was a game they didn’t tire of. He turned around and watched
as Senna moved to the window at the far end of the alley and looked through it.
After a moment she turned to him and gave a brief, puzzled expression, and he
nodded. She’d seen it too.
    “All the meat has to be burned away,”
he said, turning back to Rosemary and reiterating the point.
    The creature’s hide, now a burning patchwork
of matted fur and ulcerated flesh, was beginning to show the sinew and bone
beneath it. The fire was working its way into the muscle meat, and thin smoke
trails rose up into the night air when the flames pressed into a moist spot.
    He wondered how there could be any
moisture left in the zombies after all these years, but it was no more unlikely
than a virus that killed its hosts and animated their bodies after death.
    Probably from soaking up the rain, he
thought.
    A gust of wind snatched up the smoke, lifting
it to the platform, and the heavy odor of rotten meat burning made him grimace.
    Trying to avoid the smoke with no eye
to what was behind her, Rosemary stepped backward and though the ball of her
foot was met by the wood of the platform, her heel found only air. She screamed
as she began to fall and immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, so much
stronger was her training to stay quiet at the fence than her instinct to grab
hold of something to stop her fall.
    His jaw clenched, Corks saw Alan catch
hold of Rosemary’s elbow with one hand, and pull her back onto the platform
effortlessly as smoke from the corpse billowed around them.
    Alan was only slightly taller than
average and wiry, but years of carrying the Voltaire II and his survival gear
had made him stronger than his size suggested. Even if Rosemary had been a full
grown man, he would have had no trouble.
    “Be careful,” he whispered. “No matter
how bad the smell may get, no matter how unpleasant the situation you find
yourself in, you always have to stay focused. It’s better to hide in the most
disgusting hole than to show yourself to the virus because you’re uncomfortable.”
    “I understand,” Rosemary said,
stammering. “I’m sorry.”
    “Now look,” he said, pointing through
the chain link at the zombie. “Do you see how the bones are turning brown and
opening up in places?”
    Rosemary nodded, stifling a cough. Unabated,
the smoke was continuing to surround them.
    Senna looked on, her face wearing an
expression of familiar distaste. She and Alan both knew the girl had asthma,
and they were trying to be as quick about it as possible, but these points were
vital, and had to be made crystal clear.
    “That’s a good sign,” Alan said. “It
means that the fire is getting in them and purging the virus from the deepest
parts of the body.”
    Rosemary wheezed, and Alan knew he had
to cut it short.
    “It’s hot enough now to burn all the way
through without us watching,” he said. “Alright. That’s enough for tonight. You
can climb down now.”
    The wind shifted, directing the acrid smoke
to the tree line and then westward along it.
    Rosemary began to climb down from the
platform on unsteady legs. Senna stood behind her in case she stumbled, but she
managed to climb all the way down without help. Alan descended the ladder after
her.
    Senna put an arm around the girl and
they backed away from the gate. When they were aligned with the sentry’s tower,
Senna signaled to Corks, who nodded and began to open the gates gladly,
relieved that the exercise was over.
    Alan stayed behind for a few moments, looking
through the window while the middle gate was opened, watching the flames eat
away the zombie’s carcass.