Plague of the Undead Read Online Free PDF Page B

him. It isn’t right!”
    A few people agreed with her and they yelled for mercy. But nobody else picked up the cry, and soon the square fell silent again.
    Jacob stepped closer to Jerry, barely more than an arm’s length away. He thought again how horrible it was that Jerry wasn’t blindfolded. It certainly would have been easier on him to fire if he didn’t have to look the man in the eyes while he pulled the trigger. But that was the point, wasn’t it? The law was cold and absolute, but men mustn’t be. Men make laws to live by, and they should be man enough to face the consequences of those laws when the hard choices have to be made. It was an awful act, and an incredibly tragic one, which was why, Jacob figured, that more of the town hadn’t turned out for the execution.
    Jacob raised his pistol and adjusted his grip.
    From somewhere behind him Amanda screamed, “Oh, God, Jerry, I love you!”
    Jacob told himself to do it. Wait any longer and he’d lose his nerve completely. His hands were slippery with sweat, and he had to adjust his grip on the weapon yet again. Then he squeezed the trigger, and the gun jumped in his hand.
    He saw the flash. Jerry’s head snapped back, and he crumpled to the wet grass, his face turned to the sky, a nasty red hole where his right eye had been. Jacob swore silently. He’d been aiming for Jerry’s forehead. He’d intended something clean and quick. Not a horror show.
    There was a sudden stench as Jerry’s bowels and bladder released. The grass beneath Jerry’s head turned dark.
    A few people moaned, but the sound of their grief soon died away and the quiet crowd was left with nothing but the echo of the shot and the ragged sobbing of Amanda Grieder, now a widow.
    Steve put a hand on his shoulder. “Lower your weapon,” he whispered.
    Jacob did as the older deputy instructed, then holstered the gun. Dr. Gary Williams, the town’s only remaining properly trained doctor from the First Generation, stepped from the crowd and knelt next to the body. He checked for a pulse, and then pried open Jerry’s one remaining eye so he could study the pupil for any signs of dilation. If Jerry were going to rise, the first sign of it would be there, in the pupils.
    To Jacob’s great relief, the doctor motioned for two of his apprentices to bring a blanket. They draped it over Jerry’s ruined face and then Dr. Williams went over to talk with Sheriff Taylor. As the two men conferred in low tones, somebody led Amanda Grieder away.
    They had two men and a horse-drawn cart standing by to remove the body to the crematorium, but Jacob didn’t stick around to watch that part of the process. He walked back to the constabulary office with his head wrapped in a haze. He was barely aware of his steps, and saw nothing but the scrap of ground directly in front of his feet. He went straight to the bathroom, collapsed to his knees in front of the toilet, and vomited.

4
    It was almost dark when Sheriff Taylor finally came for him.
    Randall Taylor was a legend around town. He had led the First Generation out of Arkansas and into Arbella, had rallied them at the barricades, and fought like a lion to beat back the tide of the dead. He was one of the authors of the Code, and the sentinel on the wall that kept the rest of the world at bay. Like his old friend Steve Harrigan, Taylor was a tall, slender man. But where Harrigan was known for his affable smile and endless parade of jokes, Taylor was a far more serious man. He said little when he didn’t have to, and looked on everything and everyone with a quiet intensity.
    He had been, according to Jacob’s mother, quite good looking back in the day. Gray hair, wrinkles, and liver spots had erased some of that former glory, and his sharp, handsome features seemed more gaunt than rugged these days, but he was still obviously a powerful man, one who carried himself with a confidence that was immediately apparent to all who met him.
    He leaned against the