Winchester: Over (Winchester Undead) Read Online Free PDF Page A

287, Texas
     
    Jack and Sandra and their son Will were making fairly decent time on the highway in their old FJ. So far the traffic wasn’t too heavy, and the only cars they saw were a couple of older vehicles; everything else had stopped dead in the road. Occasionally Jack had to drive on the shoulder around people who had given up and started walking away from their abandoned cars.
    Pulling onto the inside shoulder to drive around another group, he saw that they were pointing up to the sky. Slowing to a stop, Jack got out of his truck and stood next to it, looking up at the sky. Traveling from the north was a formation of large aircraft that he didn’t recognize, and didn’t look like anything he had ever seen at an air show either. He assumed this was probably the reason Bexar had called “Winchester.” Climbing back into his truck, he saw an oily film suddenly cover his truck and windshield.
    “ What’s that, honey?” Sandra said.
    “ I don’t know,” replied Jack, “but I think it fell from those planes that just flew over.” Once again climbing out of the old truck, he poured water out of his bottle onto the windshield and wiped it clean. Everything around him was covered in the oil. Jack started the truck, drove around another group of stalled cars, and continued south.
    Approaching the city of Mansfield , the Snyder family came upon a group of people gathered around a man lying in the middle of the highway. They were kneeling around the body, a large pool of blood spreading out around them. “Sandra, get behind the wheel. If something happens, come get me,” Jack said as he exited the truck. Sandra slid over to the driver’s seat, put the truck in gear, and waited.
    As Jack walked up to the group, he immediately knew something was very wrong. There were five of them, and they weren’t administering first aid, they were eating the entrails out of the still-steaming body on the ground. Choking back the bile that rose in his throat, Jack drew the Kimber Pro-Carry he carried in a custom leather holster on his right hip and instinctively pulled the pistol into the SUL position on his chest. “What is wrong with ya’ll, stop what you’re doing!” he shouted.
    One of the group turned his head towards Jack and rose shakily to his feet. He was wearing an Army uniform with a name tag that read Jones, and the insignia on his short-sleeved shirt showed he was a staff sergeant. He also had a horrific gash on his neck. The front of his shirt was covered in blood, and pieces of flesh hung from his teeth, his gaping mouth still dripping blood from the victim on the ground.
    As Jones began stumbling towards Jack, a deep gurgling moan came from the large hole in his neck. Jack’s hands were shaking, but he pointed the muzzle of his 1911 at Jones and shouted, “What the fuck? Stop! Stop or I will shoot you. STOP!”
    The thing that used to be Jones did not seem fazed by Jack or his pistol; Jack fired twice center mass with no effect. Taking a deep breath, Jack raised the muzzle a fraction of an inch higher and fired a single round into Jones’ forehead. Jones dropped to the ground and was still, but the other four that had ignored the exchange while they feasted on the entrails of their victim all stood and turned towards Jack.
    “ Holy shit, SANDRA!” Without bothering to holster his pistol, Jack turned and sprinted towards his FJ as Sandra began rolling forward, trying to close the twenty-five-yard distance between them, and slammed on the brakes as she neared. Jack never broke stride in his sprint, placed his foot on the big steel bumper, and jumped onto the hood of his truck. Grabbing the roof rack with his left hand, his adrenaline racing, he screamed “GO! DRIVE, DAMNIT, GO!” Sandra dropped the clutch, pushed her right foot to the floor, and drove through two of the creatures shambling towards them.
    W ith Jack on the hood of the FJ, hanging onto the roof rack, Sandra drove until they were out of the