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

large red text reading, “Survival
and Preparedness: How Much is Enough?” When Tom first got to the convention, this
seemed like a difficult question, and now even more so. He did know, what he currently had, was not enough.
    As
they worked their way back toward the stairs there were pockets of darkness,
keeping them on edge. The stairs and exhibit entrances were well lit from the
glass spire above, however it looked like the exhibit rooms were shrouded in
darkness.
    Tom
stopped before the large entrance to one of the exhibits, and craned his head
listening. “Hear that?” A scraping noise could be heard from somewhere in the
darkness.
    “What
is that?” She said in a whisper.
    “Not
sure, sounds like scraping metal.”
    Rachael
took a step back, clearly terrified. “I can’t go in there.” Her eyes started
to tear up.
    Stepping
away from the dark entrance, he said, “These exhibits are full of survival
equipment, all we have to do is get to the back of this exhibit. In the back
there’s a service corridor that leads to a smaller exhibit.” Tom grasped her
shoulder to make sure she was focused on him. “That is where the top weapons
manufacturers have been showing off their stuff. “
    Rachael
slowly shook her head, saying nothing.
    “We
need these…we need lots of things, and they’re all here.”
    Wiping
her nose with the back of her hand she nodded her head.
    The
only warning Tom had was a sudden intake of breath from Rachael, and widening of
her eyes, then it hit him. There was not enough time to raise the shotgun, but
he at least got his left forearm up to afford some space between himself and
his attacker. The momentum knocked Tom to the floor, sending the shotgun
skittering out of his grasp.
    The
demented’s face was only inches from his own, the stench of this morning’s
bitter coffee clung to his hot breath. Bloody teeth gnashed in front of Tom,
trying to rip at his face. Straining with his forearm, Tom tried to throw his
attacker off, but he had no leverage. Rachael came in hard with a kick to the
side of the demented’s face. This gained just enough separation for Tom to shove with his forearm, sending the demented rolling to the side.
    Turning
for the shotgun, Tom was glad to see Rachael had already grabbed it off the
floor, and was raising it to her shoulder. Not wanting to be a part of the
blast, he began rolling toward her feet. Just as he came around, he saw the
demented on all fours, rushing across the carpet, and then came a loud boom. In
her rush to get a shot off, she clipped the demented's left side, shredding his shoulder
and entire arm. Oblivious to the pain, he rose up on his knees and continued
toward them. With one final boom, center mass, he flopped down and lay still.
    He
was a bloody mess now, but they could tell from his utility belt and uniform,
that he was one of the security personnel for the convention center. Tom
pulled the flashlight and sidearm from his belt. The large flashlight was a
bit dim, in need of fresh batteries, but would make traversing the dark exhibit
halls much easier. He was happy to see that security guy’s sidearm was a
standard issue Glock G17, a fine weapon that used the highly accessible 9mm
round. He checked the magazine, and chambered a round.
    Turning
back to Rachael, he saw that she was fumbling with the shotgun, trying to open
the breach. “Here let me help.” He showed her how to slide the release, and
then he loaded two fresh rounds. Handing her the final round from his pocket,
he said “We better move, that shot will draw attention. Follow me, stay tight,
and watch our backs.”
    By
crossing the forearm of his flashlight hand under is extended pistol arm, in the
Harries Hold, he was able to focus the beam in the direction of potential
targets. This was Tom’s preferred hold with a large flashlight, since it also
offered stability for his shooting hand.
    The
enormous exhibit room had natural light coming in from various openings,
but much