Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution by Sean Schubert Read Free Book Online Page B

the north side of the tracks, a
residential apartment building dominated the entire city from its
perch at the foot of the mountain. Locals called it the TBI and
most of them also called it home. There were other buildings, as
well as rows of boats in various states of disrepair. A short
distance beyond, up a road that led out of town, sat the abandoned
Buckner Building as well, with its sad gray facade and empty,
staring windows. With the personality of a haunted house and its
frequent visitations by bruins, the Buckner Building was the last
place Abdul wanted go.
    On the south side of the railway, the one to
which Abdul was running, the buildings were much more sparse though
there were scores of cars and hundreds of people walking to and
from the small boat harbor. There were several trucks and sport
utility vehicles towing boats waiting to deposit the watercraft
into the boat launch. They had no idea what was following behind
Abdul and the handful of others able to get away from the fracas.
If they did, they would be getting back on their boats or hurrying
them into the water and getting away from the terrible danger
bearing down upon them. As it was, the throngs were lambs awaiting
the slaughter. He wanted to shout warnings to them but the distance
and his lungs struggling to retain any oxygen both precluded that
course of action. He could only run and so run was what he did.
    He took all of this in without slowing his
pace for the slightest moment. Fear and adrenaline were fueling his
legs. He found himself running away from the fence line and trying
to get to a nice hotel, the nicest in town, a common destination
for other fares in the past. As he ran, the growing activity to his
right still within the fence caught his eye. He looked over and was
stunned to stillness.
    An old man with Einstein’s wild, white hair
and a peach colored golf shirt ran around the front of an RV. Bent
forward in an aggressive stance, the old man moved with much more
agility than a man of his apparent years should. His right hand was
missing, replaced by a stump from which cascaded a flood of red. He
rounded the vehicle’s front end, surprising a younger woman caught
unaware of his presence and caught unawares by his appearance. She
screamed and retreated into the RV’s side door with the
white-haired man in hot pursuit. When the man got himself into the
doorframe however, he was met with a surprising and deadly blast
from a gun still out of sight. The old man was tossed backward, his
feet coming over his head and body as he slid across the wet
pavement, leaving a dark streak of crimson.
    A large young man sporting a dark handlebar
mustache stepped into the RV’s doorway and authoritatively pumped
another shell into his shotgun’s firing chamber. He spit and
shouted some vulgar slur that Abdul couldn’t quite hear due to the
bells ringing in his ears as a result of the gunshot.
    The old white-haired man with the bloody
hole in his chest and the missing hand got back to his feet with
the dexterity of a wolverine. In disbelief, the man in the RV
didn’t react at first. The toothpick between his lips went limp and
fell as his mouth opened and his eyes widened. He couldn’t believe
it and neither could Abdul.
    The cab driver was having a hard time
accepting what was playing out in front of him. Nothing he had ever
experienced could have prepared him for this. Seeing a man shoot
another was difficult enough, but watching the grievously wounded
man get back up like the extra hole in his body didn’t really
matter was a new category of disbelief.
    Abdul found himself backing away from the
fence reflexively, his brain on autopilot. He saw the old man force
his way into the camper, despite suffering another point-blank
blast to his chest in the process. The two men fell into the
vehicle, one atop the other, locked in a deadly and ultimately
futile wrestling match. The woman inside filled the air with her
terrified screams as the men struggled