Redemption of the Dead Read Online Free PDF

branch.
    She didn’t answer.
    “I said, are you okay,
Billie?”
    “No. I think we’re going to
die.”
    The undead were a mere four or five
feet from them.
    Hank looked
at her, his lips quickly opening and closing as if saying, “Yeah
but, yeah but . . .” He shot another off the branch. With no time
to reload, he swung the shotgun at one of the creature’s heads. It
connected, sending it off the branch. The impact putting him off
balance, he dropped the gun when he shot his arms out to steady
himself.
    “I’m sorry, Hank.” She tried to sound
cheery for his benefit. She wasn’t sure if he truly understood the
concept of death. “It was nice meeting you.”
    The last
zombie was three feet away.
    “It was nice meeting you, too,” he
said. “I like you, Billie.”
    “Um . . . I like you, too,
Hank.”
    Two feet.
    “I’ll say hi to Jesus for you,” he
said.
    “Wha—”
    One foot.
    Hank smiled then turned and hugged the
undead man in front of him. He tipped over the side, the zombie
falling with him. They tumbled to the ground. Billie yelped then
put a hand to her mouth as her breath caught in her
throat.
    Below, Hank lay on the dirt, his legs
bent beside him like chicken wings, blood pooling around his head,
the undead that had been with him in the tree climbing on top of
him and beginning to tear and chew on his flesh.
    Through teary-eyed vision, she wondered if sacrificing
himself had really happened or if she had actually pushed
him, had gone through with her sick idea of using him to save her
own skin.
    Heart aching and pounding in quick,
sharp thuds, she slowly moved forward on the branch, hands out
beside her for balance, heading for a more stable spot.
    Below, the moans of the dead grew in
volume. Others from further up by the tree trunk slowly turned and
shuffled toward their kin.
    Forcing herself to keep her eyes
forward, Billie maintained her balance, doing her best to stay
quiet and hoping the undead were so preoccupied with . . . Hank . .
. she’d be forgotten.
    “I’m sorry, Hank,” she said, tears rolling down her cheek.
“I didn’t mean to push you.” Did I? Did he push himself? Am I a . . . killer? “Was it me or him?”
    The branch snapped.
    * * * *
    It took a
while, but finally Joe and Tracy found a house that fit their
criteria. They broke in by squeezing their way through an unlocked
kitchen window. It was convenient but it was welcomed.
    They kept back-to-back as they toured
the house, each room approached with caution and the expectation
that something might jump out at them and try to eat them. Only the
faint light coming in from outside lit their path.
    “Don’t have a match or anything, do
you?” he asked.
    “No,” Tracy said. “Why?”
    “ Make it easier to see. Make
a torch or something.”
    The two headed toward the basement,
each step cautious. Joe was confident in his partner, though. If
something were to happen, not only would he lay it on the line for
her, he knew she’d also lay it all down for him as well. It was
almost like he was backing up himself, in a way.
    The stairs
creaked, and when they got to the basement door, he stopped short
when he noticed the knob was loose in its place, the door cracked
around the knob’s edges.
    “What?” Tracy asked, clearly noticing
his hesitation.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “Door’s
cracked.”
    “Could it have been like that
before?”
    “Maybe. I know it seems like a small
thing, but you and I both know that small things can quickly become
big things.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    Joe gently
tested the knob. It turned over, loose and quick. He put a hand
behind him, guarding her. He felt her hand touch his arm as he did,
dwelt on it a quick second, then took a step back and pushed the
basement door open. The basement was dark except for off in the far
corner where a faint bit of gray light came in through the tiny
basement window, turning everything into various shades of dark
gray.
    Joe sniffed
the air.