The Demented Z (Book 1):The Demented Read Online Free PDF Page A

blood covering her face, she looked up at
Tom, growling with rage. Blood and spit flew out of her mouth. Tom pointed
the shotgun at her head and ended her life.
    Looking
down, he wondered how the movies could get it so wrong. In the movies death was
clean, a little bullet hole with some blood oozing out. This was disgusting.
Chunks of meat, bone, brains, and who knows what else were scattered all over
the floor. A mixture of blood and other liquids flowed and bubbled inside
the wounds. There was also what could not be captured on film - smell. The
acrid, metallic smell of blood, combined with the stench of urine and feces, nearly
made Tom retch.
    Rachael
knelt down next to Jack, trying to check his wounds.
    Looking
into the small boy’s staring, glazed over eyes, Tom knew it was over, he had
gone somewhere better than here. “He’s gone.” He said, reaching down and
placing a hand on her shoulder.
    Flinching,
she whipped her head around and glared at Tom, “We promised him!”
    “Not
now.”
    “Promised…”
Her head dipped and she began sobbing.
    A variety of sounds were filtering in from the street. None of them sounded
good, spurring Tom to reload the shotgun. Checking his pockets, he found three
shells remaining, plus the two already loaded. This could not go on much
longer. He had hoped for more time to flesh out a full plan, but they were
going to have to make due on the fly. Taking his hand off her shoulder, he
said, “Come on, let’s get to the car.”
    Hesitating,
she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then slowly rose. Her eyes were
wet and swollen. Looking at Tom, she only nodded.
    They
shared an angry, determined look, fully under the realization that this had
instantly turned into a cold, hard world.

Chapter 3: Survival
    Looking
in the rear view mirror, Tom could see several of the demented still chasing
after their car in a futile attempt to reach them. He felt a sense of relief
to be away from the mayhem of the bookstore; however the streets were not much
different. Everything was happening too fast.
    Nearly
reading his mind, Rachael turned toward him and asked, “Where can we go?”
    “We’re
about eight blocks from the convention center. If we can get there we have a
chance.”
    “What’s
there?”
    Tom
had to concentrate on the road, dodging wreckage, and avoiding the demented
still running the streets, so rather than go into details on his line of work and
specifics of the convention he simply replied, “Everything.”
    The
streets were a disaster. Each block seemed to be the same - cars wrecked into
each other, buildings, and street posts. There were fewer people than Tom
would have thought, many lay along the streets and sidewalks, unmoving in pools
of blood. The gore was nearly overwhelming. Most of the bodies were ripped
into, innards spilling out, as if shredded by animals.
    The
only living he saw were of the demented variety, and they all had the same
single minded rage. Whatever was happening to them, it was causing them to know
only hate toward the living. Many were too busy either pounding on business
doors, or tearing into wrecked cars to even notice them drive by, but occasionally
a few would pick up on movement. Seeing the motion of the car, a single minded
intensity would overcome them. They chased after the car like it was the only
ride off a sinking island.
    Tom
wondered if they would have been better off never stopping at the bookstore.
Earlier, he thought if they had time to hunker down things would blow over a
bit, but it was clear now, things were not getting better.
    Snapping
Tom out of his thoughts, Rachael screamed, “Look out!”
    Directly
in front of them stood a small girl wearing a dirty pink dress. She held a tan
teddy bear by one leg, his head and one arm scraping the pavement. Staring
down at her feet, she rocked slowly side to side. The car tires squealed as Tom
slammed on the breaks, stopping just in front of her.
    “What
is she doing?” Rachael