This Would Be Paradise (Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

door behind the desk was wide open, revealing their stash of weapons.
    I looked around for any witnesses and let myself in. The room was the size of a small storage closet, with metal shelves lining the walls. The stash included boxes of bullets, guns, and various melee weapons. Clearly this room should be locked up tight, but the guard was MIA. I was sure they wouldn’t mind me using something if it was to help.
    I scanned the shelves, my eyes passing over the AK-47 and other automatic weapons. I’d be no use with those. I nabbed a shiny, metal bat and extra 9mm ammo. I exited the storeroom and pushed open the front doors, fat raindrops greeting me. The burst of automatic gunfire echoed in the streets, spurring on the infected. Roy and the others were too afraid to get any closer, and their fear showed in their aim. They were wasting their ammunition, the bullets sailing through the fray.
    An infected crept up from the side of the building, the rain cleaning off its haggard face. Its nose had been chewed off and part of its scalp was torn, hanging like a bad toupee blown askew by the wind. It didn’t notice me. Perhaps the rain was obscuring my smell. It headed toward one of the guards who had his back turned.
    I ran to the infected and shoved it from behind. It flew to the pavement face first, and I wasted no time in bashing its head in. The guard spun around, alerted by the commotion, and nodded at me when he saw the infected on the ground. I recognized him as the chef from yesterday. He looked different with a rifle in his hand instead of serving tongs.
    I didn’t worry about cleaning off the bat; the downpour would clean it for me. It was like a veil had formed, obscuring the encroaching infected and blurring their outlines, giving them the appearance of dark shadows approaching in the night.
    “Is this everyone who can fight?” I yelled over the rainstorm.
    “Pretty much, unless you want to hand the old ladies an automatic rifle.” He held up his gun for emphasis.
    That episode of South Park where the AARP took over flashed through my head, and I was helpless not to laugh. Instead of looking at me like I was insane, the chef smiled.
    “What about the others from the roadblock?” I asked.
    “We tried radioing them, but the storm is interfering with our walkie-talkies.” He squeezed the trigger and a burst of bullets shot into the nearest bunch, taking only one down.
    “Can’t they hear the gunfire?” I yelled.
    “In this rain? Unlikely.” More bursts of bullets.
    “You’re not doing any good with that,” I said. He narrowed his eyes, so I amended my words. “What I mean is that we can’t do much in the aiming department from this far back. Not to mention the visibility is shit.”
    “Well then, what do you suggest?” Sarcasm laced his voice.
    “Grab a melee weapon.” I waggled the bat as if he had no idea what “melee” meant.
    “But then we have to get closer!”
    “That’s kind of the point. They’re hard to miss when they’re right in front of you.”
    “That’s how you get bitten, miss.”
    We were wasting time standing around, arguing, so I decided to make a run for Roy, who was our lone frontline infantry. I yelled his name as I approached. When I got close enough, he jumped and turned. I ducked in case he hadn’t released the trigger.
    “Never sneak up on someone with a gun!” he bellowed.
    “I was yelling your name!” I was offended he thought I was that stupid. “I guess you didn’t hear me.”
    His face fell. “I think we’re screwed. Maybe we should go inside and hold the fort.”
    “That would be fine if there were only a few of them, but I don’t think that old apartment building can take a horde of them banging on the doors, trying to get inside.”
    The chef had joined us on the frontline, as had the other guard I recognized as the doorman, José.
    “So what’s the plan?” The chef looked at me. He’d ditched the assault rifle for a crowbar.
    “We go Babe