Tales of the Zombie Apocalypse (Issue #2 | September 2015) Read Online Free PDF Page A

answer for that. He was crying again too, and pulled her into a gentle hug.
     
    “Don’t…touch me!” She said as she beat her fists against him, but he held her anyway, and in a moment, she stopped protesting and just wept bitterly against his shirt.
     
    They had all suffered losses like this. Six months may as well have been forever in the zombie apocalypse world, and in that time, they’d all witnessed countless, pointless deaths, but Frank had been one of the good ones. A rugged survivor. Nobody ever expected that he’d die like that. Not on a simple Take-Out run. What a waste. They all felt it.
     
    Milo wasn’t sure how long he held her, or how long she cried into his shirt, but in time, she untangled herself from him and went back to the tent she had once shared with Frank.
     
    He stood and sighed deeply as Jasper came toward him.
     
    “What’s next?” He asked, and just like that, life in their little camp marched on. There was no time to mourn for the fallen. It was a disservice to the living.
     
    Milo shook his head to clear it. “I figure those supplies bought us another two days, but if we want to stay ahead of things, we’ll need to go on another run tomorrow. Find out who’s fit to take Frank’s place and we’ll leave at first light.”
     
    Jasper nodded and got to it. There was work to be done if any of them were to survive, and who knows? Maybe one day, they could even start turning the tide a little, but Milo seriously doubted if anyone currently in the camp with him would live to see that day. Even so, he knew they would do their best to stay alive. To fight back until they simply could fight no more.

“Zombie Relations”
    Story #4
     
    By
     
    Sakura Skye

Jenna flicked an eyeball off of her vest and readjusted her grip on the axe. It wasn’t her weapon of choice, but a girl had to be flexible during times like this.
     
    “Keep moving,” screamed the voice in her head.
    She wasn’t sure if it was a full on hallucination or her psyche’s way of keeping her motivated. As if a school bus full of monsters that used to be teenagers wasn’t motivation enough.
     
    Jenna willed her legs to keep moving forward despite the fear that blanketed her. She kept her head on the swivel as she jogged across the campus green. Most of the time these things were loud, slow and clumsy. But occasionally you ran across a fresh one, somebody recently infected. They were fast and relentless. Those were the ones you had to worry about.
     
    “We found survivors barricaded here at the West Halls Dining. Troy and Sam are going to load them up, Nikko, Rich and I are moving on,” came Tasha’s voice over the walkie talkie.
     
    “Copy that, I will meet you guys by the South Halls Commons,” Jenna replied.
     
    “Behind you,” whispered the voice in her head.
     
    Jenna turned around just in time to catch a freshie racing up behind her. She brought the axe around like a baseball bat, swinging upward with all of her might. For a moment, she felt the blade stick in the skull but momentum carried it through, and the head of what used to be a young man split open. Jenna wound up for another swing as the body crumpled on the ground. She flinched when it spurted blood for a short moment. Jenna didn’t allow herself to linger. She had to keep moving. Aisha was somewhere inside this building. She had to find her before those things got to her. She had to save her baby girl.
     
    “The war doesn’t care about your relations,” the voice screamed.
     
    “As long as I know which voices are inside my head, I am not crazy,” Jenna whispered. She laughed to herself. It was a mirthless laugh. Her father, a Vietnam Vet, used to say the same thing all the time. At the time she thought he was in denial about his mental illness. Now, she wasn’t so sure he was as crazy as everyone thought he was.
     
    Despite seeing it with her own eyes, she still couldn’t bring herself to name the monster she was facing.