THE KILLER ANGEL: Book Two "Legend" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

moments, terrible disasters and unexpected successes. Death, horror, destruction and the loss of far too many remarkable men and women. I became much of who I am today through those hard miles.
    That apartment was not suitable for life in the apocalypse, but I lingered there for sentimental reasons.
    The tipping point came one day when I went to check on my only neighbors, a wonderful couple whohad found each other shortly after the world ended.
    Upon entering their home, I found them both dead. She was lying in bed, a deep gash in her skull, a bloody ax on the floor. It was evident that she had succumbed to the runner metamorphosis. He was in the next room, hanging from a wooden beam. Suicide. I cut him down and put him in bed with his love, then covered them both with a blanket.
    It was time to move
...
    Security needs and robust mental health required a superior location, so I immediately packed a few things, then moved into a more advantageous and survivable base - a giant, concrete-walled store loaded with housewares, food, tools, and clothes. Perfect for the long term, with no memories for me - good or bad. I cleared the place of hazards, corrected weak points in the structure, and disposed of rotted foods. That building afforded relatively enjoyable comfort for awhile, and enabled me to place creative thought into real-world action. My mind was filled with ideas, and that place contained a bounty of material with which to bring life to those ideas.
    I had plenty of time on my hands, so I built a pretty fancy gym for myself, arching pieces through the canyons of high storage shelves, all the way to the ceiling. It was a unique structure that combined training for speed, strength, heights, ropes and agility. Eventually, I added moving targets with which I could continue to hone my weapons skills.
    Travel was ever in my thoughts, so I also laboredextensively on the problem, assembling the necessary gear and weapons, customizing attire for my special purposes, stitching together material in search of the ideal, form fitting, functional layout. Many, many pieces were discarded in my search for perfection.
    During moments of downtime I would climb onto the roof via a hatch in the rear of the store. I assembled a nice, raised platform, complete with a big, yellow umbrella, a cushioned lawn chair and refreshments. Day or night, I cold relax up there in comfort and observe the city through binoculars and night vision equipment.
    On ground level, through the closed steel security gate protecting the front entrance, I would sometimes watch the horrific activities of the rot-eating undead as they relentlessly searched for and assaulted anything living. There were so many, many more of the monsters then, and there was nothing that I could do to stop the madness...other than to survive. Had anyone come to my gate for help, I would have aided where I could, but it never happened. Not once. Survivors all seemed to have stayed in place or moved out of town in search of distant family... or stopped surviving altogether.
    Ben showed up one day, handsome and fit, a glorious animal. He appeared to be on a mission of exploration, with no concerns of any kind. He remained in the area for a couple of days, and I soon came to understand that he was very much aware of my presence.
Ah, we evaluate each other
...
    Runners would chase him, snarling, snapping,gagging, and spitting up disgusting blackness, but Ben was entirely unperturbed by the ferocity and noise of those beasts who sought to savage him.
    The raging speed of the runners was nothing to Ben as he sniffed around, almost in feigned boredom at their presence. He would dodge them brilliantly, and sometimes, it seemed to me, with intended humor, for he would wait in front of a wall or large object, then dip aside just as the screaming horrors had him, only to see them smash full speed into his choice accomplice, usually leaving the berserk attacker stunned, often broken, and sometimes