What Zombies Fear (Book 2): The Maxists Read Online Free PDF Page B

some room to work.
     
    The surprise of the day was Bookbinder. He moved with grace like Leo and strength like Marshall. He used a machete and a tire knocker, which looked a lot like a small wooden bat. This small club was about 18 inches long and solid oak. Charlie used it to steer the zombies, lining them up, controlling them.
     
    On more than one occasion I watched him jam the miniature club in the mouth of a corpse and drive it to the ground, following that up with a quick thrust from his machete, which he’d ground to a point, instead of the usual rounded tip. He was a normal, unaltered, every day human, but he was every bit a lifetime, career warrior. All of my advantages, being able to read auras and being able to consider and see my opponent’s next move make me probably equal to Bookbinders natural combat prowess
     
    Almost all of M1 carried the same weapons combination and all of them fought with the same style, clearly Charlie had been training them. Control first, kill second. They all used their club as a blocking, driving almost shield like weapon. On more than one occasion I saw them jam it in the mouth of a zombie at the last moment, saving their arm or a comrade’s arm from a bite. These men were not immune, or if they were they didn’t know it and yet they fought with the same fierceness, almost abandon with which the four of us did.
     
    We stopped at the gas station before leaving town. They had gasoline tanks buried in the front of the store; this was one of those mega convenience stores with thirty gas pumps and ten diesel pumps.
     
    “ I just want to see what they have for now; we’re going to have to make another run out here.” I said. “But first I’d like to figure out some way to store a large quantity of gasoline back at the farm. I don’t want to have to make trips out here every couple of days. And I don’t trust that others won’t either take all the gas or wreck it so no one can use it. Let’s take an inventory of what’s here, I’ll be right back.”
     
    The front doors of the convenience store had been blown apart, maybe by shotgun blasts or maybe from a vehicle, it was hard to tell from the mangled mess. I stepped through the doorway crunching on broken glass. Just inside the doors was a zombie with an ornately carved African looking short spear sticking out of its head. On my way by, I yanked the spear free and walked down the aisles carrying it like a walking stick. In the 2nd to last isle, I found what I was looking for, the M&M’s. Max loved M&M’s. He’d be thrilled to have some. I took every bag of every flavor M&M, emptying the boxes of candy into my backpack.
     
    I opened the refrigerator and took a diet Mountain Dew off the rack. It was hot. Not just not cold, but hot. I grabbed three more and added them to the top of the pack, before returning to the front of the store. Behind the cash register, I grabbed three cartons of cigarettes, filling the rest of my pack with every flavor of menthol cigarette left on the shelves. I walked back out in the late afternoon sun to see Marshall and John talking animatedly.
     
    “ Hey guys, what’s up?” I asked.
     
    “ Marshall says there’s ten thousand gallons of fuel here, across the three grades of gasoline you blokes have. I don’t see how he gets to that number, by my calculations, there’s 38,000 liters.”
     
    “ John, that’s 10,038 gallons.” I said after a second’s calculation. I grinned “We’re in America, use imperial measurements, the metric system is flawed.”
     
    “ Don’t make me beat you within 2.54 centimeters of ya life.” He replied with a smirk.
     
    We all laughed and we loaded back up in the trucks.
     
    At the edge of the business section of town was the library. It had been built only a few years before, during the housing boom of the early 2000's, when tax revenue was high and the town felt like it had all the money in the world. They’d spent $16 million dollars on that