Redemption of the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

spine. Some of the creatures’ fingers
completely ripped off when they tried to support their weight by
them. Others were able to hang on, the muscles and skin along their
fingers stretching like elastic bands but still remaining
intact.
    Other undead
climbed on top of those hanging as if their comrades were rope
ladders; soon a handful made it to the branch where Hank and Billie
stood with rubbery legs.
    Reloaded,
Hank raised the shotgun. “Come on, you rascals, I ain’t afraid of
you.”
    “Shut up!” Billie searched up and down
the branch.
    “It’s not
nice to talk—”
    She grabbed
him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him down the length of
the branch, away from the trunk and the undead that climbed up it.
The ones that made it onto the branch began fumbling their way down
its length toward them. One tripped over its own feet and fell off
without a sound. The remainder kept coming, seeming to understand
the idea of keeping single-file so they could keep
going.
    Billie pulled as hard as she could
against Hank’s shirt until, it seemed, he finally understood to
follow her.
    “Don’t think
we should be runnin’ this way none,” he said and blasted off
another round. It tagged the zombie in the gut, sending it back a
step but it kept its balance.
    “Don’t have
a choice.”
    “There’s nothing ahead of
us.”
    “I know!”
    The massive
branch began to taper thinner and thinner, culminating at the end
in a fan-like series of smaller branches and dead leaves, all
tangled and meshed together in a large clump.
    Billie
stopped short before a weave of branches. Hank took another shot
and stumbled up behind her and bumped into her. Appearing
panic-stricken, the shot went wild.
    Swallowing a
dry lump in her throat, she tried to catch her breath. The undead
kept coming up along the branch, each of their steps adding to the
weight toward the end, the branch starting to dip lower a few
inches at a time.
    “I don’t
think we’re going to make it,” she said. “Help!” It was directed at
Nathaniel or Michael or any other of their kind who’d care enough
to swoop in and rescue them.
    Only the
deathly groans and moans of the undead returned her cry.
    The zombies
clamored closer, limp fingers outstretched from raggedy-clothed
arms, mouths already opening and closing, preparing to
feast.
    The branch dipped lower. The ground
was a solid three stories below, rock covered with dry dirt and
dead leaves.
    Her stomach twisted at the momentary
idea of shoving Hank toward them, thinking maybe they’d grab onto
him, start eating, and get themselves so off-balance they’d tumble
over the sides of the branch and hit the ground. It might also be
enough to draw the others off the trunk and swarm Hank’s body like
vultures to a carcass.
    As
much as she hated to admit it, it was tempting, but only
because of its purpose for survival. One look at Hank changed all
that, his face set with determination yet carrying an air of
innocence. He had this very subtle smile, a confidence that
everything would be okay.
    “I’m sorry,” she said
quietly.
    He didn’t
seem to hear her as he went about reloading the gun.
    “I’m scared,” she said, the words
tumbling out.
    “You’ll be okay,” he said. He sounded
normal again.
    Maybe he got his faculties back? she thought.
    “I’ve seen squirrels bigger and badder
than these guys.”
    Maybe not.
    Billie
inched back, her heels dipping into the curves and grooves between
the interwoven branches.
    Hank backed
up, too, and bumped into her. She was going to tell him to be
careful but bit her tongue as penance for her terrible thought
moments before.
    The undead
advanced without care.
    The branch
began to crack and snap beneath her feet.
    Come on, don’t give out on
me.
    Another of the dead fell off . The rest kept coming, two walking, two others crawling
along the branch on their hands and knees.
    “Are you
okay?” Hank asked. He shot the nearest undead. It went flying off
the