Zombies in Paradise (Love in the Age of Zombies Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

wondered where they came from. After they disappeared down the street, he walked the way they came. He kept to the houses, not in the street, so nobody would see him. But he didn’t see anybody else, either. He couldn’t tell where they came from. He headed back to school.
     
    The next morning, Michelle and Kevin made love once again. As they were snuggling in the afterglow, they heard Doc whistling in the kitchen, perhaps to let them know he was awake. Kevin knew they’d made some noise, but wasn’t sure exactly how loud they were. Sometimes he lost track of how loud they were getting, but he was pretty sure they’d been quiet.
    They dressed and joined Doc in the kitchen, eager for a cup of coffee. Kevin made some steel-cut oats and they leaned against the counters and sink.
    “I never liked oatmeal much,” Doc said, “but now I’m glad to have it! I ran out of Cream of Wheat months ago at the cabin.”
    “Speaking of your cabin, how about giving us the long version of your trip here? I get the feeling you left out quite a bit,” Kevin said. Doc looked thoughtful as he sipped his coffee.
     
     
    Chapter Five
    Atlanta, Michigan
    Doc finished packing the Jeep and went over his list one more time: fishing gear (just in case), sleeping bag, tent, hunting boots, hunting jacket, waders, shotgun, rifle, ammunition, hunting knife, medical bag, food, five-gallon gas cans.
    He hoped he wouldn’t need to use much of the supplies but didn’t know how long he’d be staying with Kevin and Michelle, or when he might ever return. He grabbed the pillow from his bed along with a couple favorite blankets just in case he wasn’t coming back, and headed out. He didn’t bother locking the door; he’d seen no survivors in six months, and if anyone did stumble across his cabin, he’d rather they just walk in than break in.
    He climbed into the cab, started the engine, and pulled onto the rough two-track towards the main road. It was a good three miles of rough going, but he’d had the foresight to clear the track yesterday. He made bumpy but steady progress.
    He used to enjoy being far off the beaten track. Back when the cabin was his getaway, his sanctuary, his escape from civilization, he loved the solitude and silence about as much as he loved the nearby small lake (or large pond) which held enough brook trout to occupy his time. Back then, he seldom heard any evidence of humanity, other than the occasional drone of a prop plane high above and the annual sound of chainsaws in autumn. In winter he sometimes heard snowmobiles, and cursed the fools who went out of their way to make them as loud as possible. But on most days, he was more likely to hear the call of a coyote mingled with the sound of the wind high in the pines.
    That was then. He hadn’t heard a snowmobile or a single-engine plane since the Collapse, hadn’t seen so much as a single jet trail. He used to happily choose silence and solitude, but after a few months of forced seclusion, he felt isolated and lonely.
    The truth is, he was depressed. So when Michelle told him she was pregnant and had some concerns, he felt once again like he had some clarity, some purpose. He was a doctor; she was his pregnant patient. She had nobody to examine her, diagnose problems and suggest treatment, check her progress, offer guidance. She may be a nurse practitioner, but that didn’t compare to his forty-plus years of treating pregnant women of all shapes, sizes, and ages, from fifteen years old to fifty-three years old. Perhaps a house-call was in order.
    He knew Kevin would try to be helpful, but Kevin wasn’t a doctor, and you could never tell when a husband might freak out and panic at the first sign of trouble (read: blood). He also knew Michelle had some risk factors. She was near forty, had a miscarriage in her history, and was overweight. He wanted to make sure she had medical supervision, even if he didn’t have any equipment, testing labs or facilities.
    Looking