The Scattered and the Dead (Book 1): A Post-Apocalyptic Series Read Online Free PDF Page A

the asphalt, the popcorn sound cutting off. Now the rubber of the tires hummed.
    “You know what the best thing about reading that book was? It made me remember how it really was. How things used to be and how things changed. All those little things you forget about through the years. All the shit we’ve lost, you know? Things we used to do or see or think about every day that are gone for good. Some of that is irreplaceable. That’s how these things go.”
    They fell quiet for a second before Delfino went on.
    “Like I had this gigantic porn collection, yeah? Gone. All of it. Lost it in a fire. See, I was old school. It was all about the magazines for me, and I had a ton. I’m telling you, it would’ve stood taller than me had I stacked them up in one pile. That’s a lot of jerk material, right? Enough to capture my dumb imagination for a lifetime. Now? Now my mind just lusts after images it can’t have. It’s fucking painful.”
    The Delta 88 reached an intersection, and Delfino took a right. He pulled a Zippo out of the same pocket the tin came out of, but he didn’t light the cigarette dangling from his lips just yet.
    “Some people are pretty squeamish about these things. They don’t want to talk about it. But what the hell? I’m an idiot animal with a sex drive. Why would I pretend to be anything else?”
    Bags didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.
    “Some people get into like one kind of porn, right? Like a fetish, I guess. Not me. I was an all-around porn fan. A jack of all smut, you could say. Black girls. White girls. Asian girls. Latinas. Sweet, sweet Latinas. Big boobs. Small boobs. I mean, yeah, OK, I went through a serious anal phase for a while there, but generally speaking-”
    Baghead interrupted.
    “Look, you don’t need to tell me all of the particulars.”
    Delfino smiled. He finally lit the cigarette and took a big puff. When he exhaled, the cloud blew into the windshield and parted, smoke rolling in all directions.
    “Right. You’re right about that. Anyway, yeah, we should talk about the money.”
    “The amount I mentioned in the note. I’ll pay half now, which is what I have on me, and half when we get there.”
    “Well… I don’t usually work on spec that way, but I’ll trust you. Only because that was a good ass book, though.”
    He scratched his chin.
    “It’s about an hour’s ride to the place I’m staying. We’ll need to gear up before we hit the road.”

 
     
     
    Travis
     
    Hillsboro, Michigan
    44 days after
     
    The grocery shelves looked skeletal. All the meat had been picked off the bones like some unidentifiable carcass lying belly up in the jungle. Certain items remained here and there – the dishwashing detergent was largely untouched, for example. The parts you couldn’t eat were intact. But the edible items, the most useful items, had all been scavenged.
    Travis already knew that, though. He’d kept an eye on this place, watched the people come and go over the past 40 days, sometimes exiting with just a couple of items on hand, sometimes taking multiple truckloads of stuff. He’d heard gunshots and screams and terrible sounds that reminded him of a pack of jackals laughing from within the building. During quiet moments, usually in the middle of the night, he’d crept in to gather some things for himself. In time, he’d amassed plenty. Anyway, he wasn’t here for groceries now.
    His eyes traced a smear of blood trailing off toward the produce section. He wasn’t headed that way, so he’d never see where it led. Probably for the better, he thought.
    He fingered the serrated edge of the key and smiled. The whole walk here, he’d barely been able to keep his hands off the jagged part of the metal. It felt like a magical item tingling in his pocket. A talisman that would unlock the door to a kind of happiness the hero could take back home.
    It hadn’t been easy to acquire, the key, but he had it finally, and he was here. He walked into the