OUTNUMBERED volume 1: A Zombie Apocalypse Series Read Online Free PDF Page A

isolation it's for a full three weeks. You and Paige still have another week to go. You don't leave and no one enters your room until the isolation period is complete. You were told that up front, and it's not negotiable. "
    "Dammit! I want to see my father. He's all Paige and I have. I just need to see him one last time. Please." I switched the speaker off because further talk was futile. Kira pounded on the door as I forced myself to turn away. Her muted cries could still be heard by anyone close by. I motioned toward Paige's cell and said, "Marcie, will you please let Paige know what's happening? I imagine she's frightened by the loud ranting."
    There was no sense arguing with Kira. The protection of the group was of the utmost importance, and personal needs for closure had to be dealt with by each individual. Sad and harsh, but that's the way it was. I walked to the end of the holding cells, climbed the ladder to access the cell's ceiling, and opened the hatch above Walter. He stood under me between the opening and the door. If released, he'd attack any human, even his daughter or granddaughter. I aimed and pulled the trigger. When the sound of the .45 caliber blast echoed through the building, Kira screamed. I saw people who'd stopped what they'd been doing to turn toward the cells. Everyone knew what a gunshot from that area meant. In the bitter silence that ensued, a single faint but clear female voice was heard by all. "I hate you, Tom Jacobs. I hate you!"
    Some of our more sensitive people shy away from having to end the life of someone they'd known before that person transformed into an undead creature. As the group leader, that despicable task routinely falls to me or Shane in my absence. It sucks, but that's our role. We do the dirty work to keep everyone else safe. But it's not as painless as some may think.
     
    ~*~*~*~
    At the end of Paige and Kira's incarceration, I advanced the weekly meeting by a day to introduce them and formally welcome them. They'd been given copies of the organizational chart showing everyone's name, position and a small picture of each member. I dreaded the day when we lost power and could no longer use our computers and printers. Two chairs were placed in front of the seated group, and Kira and Page were asked to tell their history and how they came to join our group of survivors.
    "I'm Kira Schafer, and Paige is my daughter. Thank you for taking us in. My father was Walter Conley. I guess you all know what happened to him. We were at a Walmart in St. Peters, Missouri, looking for food when we were attacked by zombies. Three of your people found us there. My husband, Carl, was bitten, died and turned." She patted Paige's leg as tears flowed from the child and Kira continued. "Carl had trained us in what to do if one of us, any one of us, was bitten or scratched by a zombie and blood was drawn. I watched Carl spring up from the floor and lunge toward Paige. She stood a few feet behind and to the side of my father. I waited as long as possible before I shot Carl. Body fluids and brain matter sprayed onto my father. We thought he was okay... but Tom Jacobs said he wasn't and killed him." She said the last part harshly and glared at me. I chose not to confront her as she grieved and let the unjust remark pass; but it stung none the less.
    Ira Sparrow didn't let the comment lie. His lean frame stood as he interrupted her. "Mrs. Schaffer, we're all terribly sorry for your loss, but Tom did what had to be done. Anyone in our group would have done the same thing. I'm a veterinarian and I serve as the doctor here. I examined Walter after he died. It appeared the infection entered his body around the skin at the base and sides of his fingernails. His cuticle areas were red and badly swollen. If Tom had been away one of us, likely Shane Holescheck or me, would have ended your father's life. It had to be done for the safety of everyone here, including you and Paige. Please don't blame Tom for your