Winchester: Over (Winchester Undead) Read Online Free PDF

small town of Mansfield. Pulling to the side of the highway, he climbed down, still shaking, pulled the magazine out of his pistol, and traded it for the one on his belt. Tactical reload complete, Jack looked at the dents on the front of his truck and turned to Sandra.
    “ I don’t know what the fuck that was, but that guy shouldn’t have been alive. He shouldn’t have been able to get up, he shouldn’t have been able to absorb two rounds to the chest, and he sure as shit shouldn’t have been eating the other guy. What the shit?”
    Eyes wide, Sandra replied , her voice trembling, “I don’t know babe, but the sooner we get to the cache site, the sooner we can talk to Bexar. Maybe he has an idea of what’s going on.”
     
    State Highway 6, Central Texas
     
    Highway 6 was rarely all that busy since it had been expanded from a two-lane highway back when he was attending Texas A&M, but even with most of the cars stopped in the road Bexar was making good time in the Wagoneer.
    The original Get Out Of Dodge plan had the family traveling Highway 6 to I-35 in Waco, where they could make their way to Maypearl in quick and easy time. However, during the drive to the little town of Hearne, Jessie had come up with a good point—if everything with electronics, including newer cars, was dead, Waco might be dangerous, and the I-35 would probably be a parking lot.
    Over the years, Bexar had learned many things about his wife, one of which being that she was usually right. Agreeing with her, Bexar decided to take Texas Highway 14 to Mexia, a small Texas town famous for being the birthplace of Anna Nicole Smith.
    In Hearne, people walked in the streets, around cars that had stopped in the road. Bexar heard gunfire in the not-too-far distance and wasn’t surprised. Hearne, Texas was the only place in the world where Wal-Mart had to shutter their store due to rampant employee theft.
    Scanning the road and side streets for threats, he pushed his Jeep a little faster than he would have liked through the maze of parked cars. Just as they drove past the big new gas station on the north end of town, their front right tire went flat.
    “ Well ain’t that just our luck? Jess, we’re really exposed, grab my rifle and pull guard for us while I change this damned thing.” Bexar climbed out of the Jeep, pulled the highlift jack down from the side of the roof rack, grabbed the four-way lug wrench out of the box on the rear bumper, and unbolted the spare tire from the back of the truck.
    Jessie climbed out of the truck with Bexar’s favorite rifle. Last year he had splurged and built it off a Noveske Lower Receiver and a LaRue Tactical Upper with a full length quad rail. A bunch of Magpul furniture was used, and the flat top rifle had a mounted ACOG red-dot sight. It cost Bexar a lot of money to build that rifle, but he was happy to have it and, as a cop, he could write the rifle off on his taxes as a “work” expense.
    As Bexar put the highlift back in its place on the roof rack and began bolting the flat tire and rim to the back of the Jeep, he heard Jessie call, “Stop or you will be shot.” Bexar threw the four-way into the back of the Jeep and turned to see where Jessie was pointing the rifle’s muzzle. In the blink of an eye, Bexar drew his pistol and pointed it at the man stumbling towards them from across the highway.
    “ Sir, stop where you are or you will be shot,” she shouted again. “Sir, stop!” The man stumbled closer, his clothes covered in blood, his head flopped to the side at an impossible angle, and bite marks covering his face. His left eye was missing, along with some of the flesh on the left side of his face.
    Bexar joined in. “Dude, fucking stop or you’ll be shot!” The man continued to stagger towards the Jeep, crossing the yellow line on the road. The AR-15 Jessie held cracked once, and a single round tore through the blood-covered chest of the man. Bexar whispered “Jesus” as he put two .45 hollow