Zombie Fallout 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

only prudent thing I could think of, I turned and walked away.
    “I’m talking to you Talbot!” He yelled.
    “Yeah I figured as much.” I said over my shoulder. “I just don’t feel like listening.” I’m not thinking that was the right answer, I heard or more like felt the ground shake as he hopped off the back of the trailer. The train was coming I had about ten seconds until contact. Luckily I was saved, sort of.
    “Dad!” Travis yelled, and this wasn’t a warning about BT coming up behind me. Travis was on my right side behind the gas pumps, from his vantage point he couldn’t see the little melodrama that was playing out. I turned to go and see what was putting that distress into my son’s voice. BT sheared off too. Whether to intercept my current course or to sate his own curiosity I wasn’t sure. I trotted up to Trav’s side a couple of seconds before BT. The big man gave me the once over before following Travis’ pointing finger. About two hundred yards away was a man and he was coming at full sprint.
    “You think it’s a survivor?” BT asked. I could tell there was a little more than a tremor of fear in his voice. Well it was good to know the guy was afraid of something. A hundred and fifty yards and his pace hadn’t slowed down, what was more worrisome was that he didn’t wave or try to gain our attention in any sort of fashion. The skeevies I was feeling were felt by all of us, something wasn’t quite right but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
    “Man his clothes look like shit.” BT said in hushed tones. I nodded in agreement. But that wasn’t enough to convince me something was amiss. Washing clothes was on the low end of the survival spectrum. “That ain’t no zombie, is it Talbot? It’s running way too fast.”
    A hundred yards away and it was clearly fixated on us, still no friendly wave, no gesture of peace, nothing but determination were etched in his/its ashen features. My mind was made up. “BT tell everyone to get back to the truck and ready to leave.” He didn’t move. I stomped on his foot, I thought he was going to punch me on the top of the head. “BT!” I yelled “Get everyone back in the truck.” He was still debating about the punch. “NOW FUCKER!” He jumped. I was most likely going to pay for this later but it still felt like the right thing to do. BT kept looking over his shoulder as he ran back towards the tractor-trailer. Most of the survivors were outside the truck lounging, smoking cigarettes, getting some fresh air, eating, and even some of the baser necessities, pissing and crapping. But when a giant black man is screaming at the top of his lungs in a post apocalyptic world, that you need to get your skinny asses back on the truck to save yourselves, you tend to listen.
    Twenty-five feet away, I waited until I was one hundred percent sure and still I wasn’t. It didn’t seem like a zombie, but if he was human once, he no longer suffered from that affliction, not anymore.
    “Now Dad?” Travis asked with a note of trepidation in his voice.
    “Aw shit!” I just wasn’t convinced. I couldn’t even begin to wrap my mind around this new development. The guy was within spitting distance, sure Olympic class spitting distance, but you get the point, when clearly Travis had made up his mind. The Mossberg bellowed a triumphant roar. The 12 gauge slug caught the man square in the chest. The effect was devastating. I watched in fascinated slow motion as his chest cavity became fully exposed and blood rained rampant as his full speed sprint was halted in mid stride. The 1500 feet per second slug struck with enough force to blow the man back four feet. I hoped for both mine and Travis’ sanity that when we checked the body that there would be some tell tale sign of a humanity lost. The smoke from the shotgun barrel had barely begun to dissipate when we obtained our definitive answer. Mr. Speedy Sneakers (the name seemed appropriate at the time) started to