Fear the Dead 2 by Jack Lewis Read Free Book Online

that you've forgotten what danger is. Out there, there are no
walls keeping the infected away from you. The second you let your guard down,
they’ll tear you to pieces.”
     
    Moe laughed. “He just loves to play
the bogey man. Truth is, ladies and gents, it ain’t as bad out there as you
think. Could a few infected really kill all two hundred of us?”
     
    The amusement dropped off his face.
“Enough of this shit. Let’s vote. I’m heading out in two weeks. I’m going
somewhere where the whiskey flows, there’s enough smokes and there aren’t five
hundred thousand dead bastards marching toward us. If you’re with me, raise a
hand.”
     
    I wanted to speak, to put my argument
across one last time. Hands rose in the air. First a few, but then more, like a
Mexican wave that didn’t end. Soon I stared out at a room full of upturned
palms.
     
    Moe nodded. “Two weeks,” he said.
“And then we go.”

 
     
    6
     
    Seats emptied and the theatre
cleared, leaving behind the old oak roofing, torn chairs and a vast silence
that echoed the slightest movement. Moe walked toward the exit behind the
stage, his coat folded over his arm. Now that the people had gone, his posture
sagged. The old man had kept it together for a short while, but now his age
weighed down on him.
     
    “Give me a minute,” I said.
     
    He turned. The smirk of victory left
his face and he sighed.
     
    “It’s over, Kyle.”
     
    My steps thudded on the bouncy
treads, the decades-old wood creaking under me. I stopped just short of him.
     
    I had lost the debate. Moe’s
reasoning and his popularity had won out, and it seemed that most of the people
were going to leave with him. The old man had played it smart; I thought he was
going to use the ‘no alcohol, no fun’ card, but instead he’d brought up the
wave of infected. He’d made them terrified of it.
     
    I was never going to win them back
with words, because persuasion wasn’t my strong point. So what was?
     
    Survival. Since the outbreak fifteen
years ago I’d seasoned myself to the horrors that waited in the Wilds. This is
what I would use.
     
    My chest loosened. “I’m going to go
find it,” I said. “I’ll prove that this ‘wave’ is just bullshit.”
     
    Moe put his hand to his chin. “Do you
really believe that?”
     
    I nodded. “There’s no way five
hundred thousand of them would join together. They act on instinct, some sort
of primal shit that I can’t work out. But they don’t decide to join together.”
     
    “Take a look outside once in a while,
Kyle. Nobody out there made a conscious decision to live together in Vasey;
they just drifted here one by one. Maybe the infected aren’t much different.”
     
    “If you think we’re the same as them,
you’ve obviously never had one try to kill you,” I said.
     
    He looked at the floor, gathered his
words. “At any rate, I’m going with whoever wants to come with me. I imagine it
will be a lot of them.”
     
    I wasn’t going to let him do this.
We’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much. Vasey had to work because if I
didn’t, then I couldn’t see a way forward.
     
    “I’m going to Manchester. I’ll prove
that the wave doesn’t exist, and then I’m going to come back and rebuild this
fucking town.”
     
    A door burst open at the back of the
theatre. Justin rushed down the hall, past the rows of empty seats. His face
was red. He stopped at the stage, bent over. He took deep breaths.
     
    He looked up at us. “I missed it?” he
said.
     
    Anger flashed though me. “What the
hell do you think?”
     
    “I’m sorry Kyle.”
     
    Moe turned. “If you two can excuse
me, I’m going. You’re serious about going to Manchester?”
     
    I nodded. The thought of going back into
the Wilds turned my stomach to water, but I knew I had to do it.
     
    “You’re doing what?” said Justin.
     
    I ignored him. I couldn’t even look
at him right now.
     
    Moe scratched his chin. “If