Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 9): Frayed Read Online Free PDF

the worst,” Seth fired
back. “Especially after watching Caddyshack .”
    Cade wheeled the truck right, muscling it one-handed onto
the driveway. “I thought you had a cheese tooth,” he said, eyes scanning
the squat dwelling’s darkened windows.
    “Fine,” Seth said, dejection evident in his tone. “I’ll take
the crumbs.”
    “Roger that,” said Cade. He switched the radio off and
stowed it in a cargo pocket. He stuffed the yellow sheet torn from a legal pad
and completely filled with handwritten requests in another. With the sound of
gravel crunching under the rig’s off-road tires, he halved his speed and
covered the last thirty feet to the empty parking pad, never taking his eyes
off the curtain-shrouded windows, of which there were three. The two windows
bookending the dwelling looked to be four foot tall by six wide and situated
between them, but closer to the one on the left, was another half their size
and frosted. In his mind, working left to right, Cade paired each window with a
room: bed, bath and, to the right of the garish-looking bright-red front
door, living . Presumably he would find the kitchen at the right rear
corner opposite the living room. And if that was the case, then no doubt a
hallway and closet and second bedroom, in that order, would finish off the back
half of the prefab.
    Easy enough.
    Cade reached to the passenger side footwell and retrieved
the red Kelty backpack he’d borrowed from Daymon. Forgoing the carbine for now,
he plucked the Glock from the center console and looked over his shoulder at
Max. “Coming or staying?”
    Max moved toward the open door, stub tail twitching
furiously.
    “Coming, obviously,” Cade stated. “I want to check something
first.” He toggled out of the navigation system and then fooled with the
buttons below the truck’s LCD display. After a few seconds of trial-and-error,
he called up a screen displaying the current outside temperature and saw that
it was thirty degrees and probably dropping. He sat there for a bit, listening
to the soft patter of snow hitting the metal roof overhead. Saw big fluffy
flakes alight on the windshield, break apart and begin the slow slide toward
the static wipers. The flakes landing on the warm hood, however, didn’t stand a
chance, some melting away at once and running off in all different directions,
while others collapsed instantly, creating dime-sized pools on the flat
portions of the black slab of sheet metal.
    He watched the temperature drop another degree from 30 to 29
then climbed from the Ford, waited for Max to bound by him, closed the door and
locked the truck using the key.
    Max beat Cade to the black Welcome mat in front of
the contrasting red door and was sitting there, tail twitching, and staring
over his shoulder as his master-for-the-moment approached.
    “All clear?”
    Max pawed at the mat.
    Cade pounded the door with a closed fist, calling out,
“Anyone home?” He pressed his ear to its cold surface and listened hard. A
handful of seconds passed. He craned and checked the windows for movement then,
raising his Glock, flicked his eyes to Max, who was peering up expectantly.
“Sounds empty inside.”
    As per usual in the zombie apocalypse, the door was locked.
So Cade put the sole of his size nine desert boot to work delivering a solid
kick just left of the knob and deadbolt. On impact an electric shiver ran up
his right shin, a mild ache started in his ankle, and there was a sharp crack
as wood split and the door flung open. A second dull thud reverberated about
the front room as the inside knob impacted drywall, producing a nice-sized
dimple there.
    Fingers tented, Cade met the rebounding door, stopping it
mid-swing. “Anyone home?” he asked again, the earlier tone of formality gone
from his voice.
    Nothing.
    Once he’d crossed the threshold and was standing on the
dingy white square of linoleum passing as the foyer, the former Delta operator
cocked an ear toward the back of the house and