The Queen of the Dead Read Online Free PDF

zombies.
    Corpses clawed at the armored Stryker tank. The idling vehicle was surrounded, and Griggs was convinced the driver was going to pull away. Griggs and Vincent would have to clear a path to climb over, and the hatch wasn’t open. The thug might be more interested in killing everyone in the tank and stealing it.
    Not that it was a bad idea.
    A hatch popped open on top of the tank and Sergeant Charles appeared. He leveled his M16 and fired controlled bursts at zombie heads, downing them near the front tires.
    Griggs didn’t need an invitation, but Vega wasn’t helping any.
    “Let me go, damn you!” she said.
    Both men loosed their grip on her shoulders, and the gore-soaked woman turned on her heels. She was going to run, maybe right into the arms of the dead.
    Thank God, Vincent knew what was at stake: the platinum-mouthed gangster socked her in the gut and doubled her over.
    Vincent held her upright as she scrambled over the front tire and climbed aboard. Sergeant Charles stood on the hull and grabbed her arm, hoisting her up and over. Vincent climbed after.
    The sergeant’s eyes lit up.
    Griggs turned around.
    He grabbed the creature’s throat and looked into its dead eyes. “I’m having a pretty bad day, motherfucker. How ‘bout you?” He shoved the Desert Eagle into its open mouth and pulled the trigger. The entire body jumped out of his hand.
    Shit, that was pretty awesome.
    Griggs climbed over the tire with his ears ringing. Charles and the others had slipped into the tank, and he followed them as the vehicle jerked backward. He closed the hatch after him, while he collapsed onto one of the benches of the infantry transport vehicle that was designed to carry eleven soldiers into a combat theater.
    “They’re all over us,” Charles reported.
    Vega lay on the bench opposite Griggs and Vincent. Inside the confines of the troop compartment, which was a bright-white display of straight lines and cleanliness, the smell of blood and sweat was palpable.
    Vincent’s chest rose and fell, and he stared at Vega without blinking for several seconds. He rose and tried to look Vega over; she moaned and closed her eyes.
    “Is she bitten?” Sergeant Charles asked from the driver’s seat.
    “I can’t tell.”
    “You’re going to have to speak up!”
    “That’s Sergeant Charles,” Griggs pointed toward the front of the tank. “Maybe you can pull your shit together and thank him for bailing your ass out of there.”
    “Didn’t need it.” Vincent flashed his metal grin.
    “I forgot that you’re a hardass,” Griggs said. “Hey Sergeant, this is Vincent Hamilton. Maybe you’ve heard of him.”
    That got Vincent’s attention. He shot the former detective a hard look and ground his teeth. “If you got shit to say, let it out now so I ain’t wastin’ time listening to your mouth. I got a problem with people who talk too much.”
    Vincent was going to flex his muscle whenever he could; he might not have a high school education, but the man was the biggest arms dealer in Michigan, with warehouses all over the state.
    But Griggs could give a shit.
    “Oh, don’t worry, I love talking,” Griggs said. “Figure maybe I can keep you entertained. I thought it was funny as hell how you managed to scare off or pay the jury when we had your ass on the fire…”
    Vincent nodded. “I got time. You got business with me, then we can take care of it now.”
    “You jokers get a status on Vega?” Sergeant Charles asked. “I only got one pair of eyes and one set of hands, and everything’s glued to the road. This rig’s not a damn race car… I can push it to thirty, and that’s just fast enough to attract a crowd. We’re the first float in a parade, so we need an ammo check, too. I want to be able to make a quick exit if I have to.”
    The former detective was lucky he’d found the tank operator a block away from the church where Bob had been murdered by Traverse. One soldier had survived the firefight at