Plagued: The Midamerica Zombie Half-Breed Experiment (Plagued States of America) Read Online Free PDF Page A

their sister, they drove the Jeep into the waiting line for the ferry. Gary went to get lunch, leaving Tom in the Jeep for what felt like hours. There were already five vehicles in front of them and the ferry wasn’t due for a half hour. Tom opened the copied records on the half-breed and sighed. He wasn’t sure why he’d taken it. It seemed like a good idea at the time. At least he knew who she was. He knew he would never be able to help his own sister, but seeing all those faces in the registrar’s office just made him wish he could help someone. He folded the paper again and opened his knapsack. Inside there were several tools needed if he was caught alone out there on the other side of the wall. There were several dry-seal pockets on the inside to keep papers from getting wet. Seeing as how they were about to go out on the channel, and with the rains being so frequent lately, he decided for the next two weeks it would be best if he left the papers someplace they would stay dry. He couldn’t do much for the half-breed until he made it home anyway. He shoved the knapsack between his feet and closed his eyes. Two more stops on this horrible journey. Just two more stops and the responsibility would be his, alone, for the rest of his life.
    “I got hotdogs,” Gary said while dropping a bag of food in Tom’s lap, startling him from his hopeless quest for sleep. Even after finishing the hotdogs it looked like a long wait for the ferry. “Hey, why don’t you go get a souvenir for yourself,” Gary suggested. Tom glared at him. “Oh, come on. It’s going to be at least fifteen minutes before the ship lands, and ten minutes disembarking. Go on.”
    “I don’t want anything,” Tom replied.
    “Go on,” Gary said. “You don’t even know what they sell. Go take a look. Get something for your friends so you can say you’ve been here.”
    “I don’t want to say I’ve been here,” Tom groused, but climbed out of the Jeep. He grabbed his survival pack and slung it over his shoulder. “I may as well look the part of a tourist,” Tom added emphatically. The sarcasm deflected off his older brother’s hard shell. He’d be the same soon, Tom realized.
    The shop was near the prison and butted against the hotel casino. Like their bed and breakfast the night before, its outer wall was a sheer drop into the channel, built right up to the edge of the wharf. Through the back windows Tom kept an eye on the ferry as he perused the morbid selection of fang tooth necklaces – a holdover from the early days when people thought their teeth were the point of infection – picture book memorabilia, shot glasses, digital recordings of genuine moaning, zombie recipe books, and t-shirts with stupid sayings like “Biter’s Hill – Get a Life!”
    Nothing in the store interested him, but sitting in the Jeep with Gary these past few days reminded him how little he liked his older brother. Although Gary never outright blamed Tom – they’d had battles over that plenty of times in the past – a chasm of sibling rivalry still existed.
    Tom looked out the back window. The ferry churned up foam as it slowed to its moors. Time to leave this hell hole.
    Tom only made it half way through the store before he froze in his tracks, overcome with fear. The world around him shrank, his vision narrowing to take in only the sight of the open door to the prison outside and a line of zombies spilling out. Had no one seen it? Was this some kind of dream or effect of the shop’s glass to scare the patrons inside? He looked to the shopkeeper who was casually ringing up a man’s purchases. Tom couldn’t think for words. He cried out loudly and pointed, staring dumbly. The shopkeeper’s alarm solidified Tom’s fear, rooting his feet in place.
    The scene outside was grim. Already a column of zombies were pressed upon by soldiers and hunters alike. Long poles with rope nooses were used to subdue several of the beasts, but the horde had numeric