Wanted: Dead or Undead (Zombie West) Read Online Free PDF Page A

reckon."
    "Plenty of time for me to clean up a little,
then?"
    Red shrugged.
    Trace put the bedroll away and pulled out a shaving kit. He
balanced the small, cracked mirror in the crook of a tree and set up his
shaving station. He much preferred to get his shaves in town, but for now he
would have to do it himself. Every so often, he caught a glimpse of Red
watching him as he used the straight-edge razor.
    "My father used to have one of those."
    He turned to look at her, his face still half-covered in
white foam. "Where is your father?"
    "He's dead." Red stared into the pan as she
stirred the contents around.
    Trace set his razor aside. "I'm sure sorry to hear
that."
    He waited for a moment, wondering if she'd say anything
more. When she didn't, he went back to shaving, but continued to steal glances
at her in the mirror.
    "Where's your family?"
    An opening. She wouldn't have asked if she didn't want to
know. He reminded himself to take baby steps.
    Trace wiped the remaining foam from his face with a small
towel, left his shaving supplies where they were, and sat down next to her.
"I never had much of a family. My parents died of cholera when I was a
kid, and I grew up in an orphanage in Illinois. I took off at fourteen, and
I've been on my own ever since. How about you? Where's the rest of your
family?"
    "I don't like to talk about that." Red shook her
head and fixed her green eyes on him.
    The sullen look he read in her features saddened him, but at
the same time it provided evidence of the vulnerability he'd been looking for.
"I understand. So if it's not to your family, then where are you
headed?"
    "I have an older brother who joined the Cavalry during
a zombie uprising a couple years back. I hope to track him down, but so far I
haven't had much luck." She swallowed hard. "More than likely, he's
dead. I've heard stories."
    Trace had heard those same stories. Zombies were harmless in
small numbers; bullets and swords held back their ravenous desire to eat human
flesh. But zombie mobs were entirely different. Several Cavalry units still
fought, trying to gain some kind of hold on the epidemic, but the zombie
population grew every day.
    "Yeah, I'll never forget reading President Garfield's
address in the paper: You're on your own and good luck ." Red's
brother had probably died a long time ago, but Trace would never say that to
her. "What are you gonna do once you find him?"
    She shrugged. "Head north, I guess. I heard cool
weather really slows the zombies down. They don't like snow."
    "I guess I shouldn't head to California then, unless I
plan to live in the high Sierras, huh?"
    Again, she shrugged. "I don't know if it's true or
not." She plated up the grub and handed one to him.
    "Well, it sounds plausible to me. I'd place a bet on
it."
    She looked up and caught his eye, but said nothing.
    He ate the last of his breakfast, but chose to prolong the
inevitable by pouring himself another cup of black coffee. He liked it with a
little milk, but milk was a rarity these days. Zombies ate anything that
moved—horse, cow, sheep, dog. Fortunately, the animals never
"turned." They either died immediately or shortly afterwards from
their injuries. Everyone knew that a bitten animal was a tainted animal. No one
ate the meat, no matter how close to starvation. That meat smelled different.
    "Thank you for your hospitality." Trace held his
hand out to her. "Breakfast was wonderful, but I found your company even
more so."
    He expected her to aim her gun at him once more, but it sat
safely in its holster at her waist. That had to mean something.
    "I best be off." He gathered up his things and
rearranged them in his pack. He'd never gain her trust if he didn't stick to
his word, so he'd just circle around and follow her from a safe distance.
    "Here." He handed her a burlap bag full of various
edible items. "Take this to tide you over until you can get more
supplies."
    She made no move to take it. Man, she's stubborn.
    "Suit yourself." He