Life Among The Dead (Book 2): A Castle Made of Sand by Daniel Cotton Read Free Book Online Page A

opening, choosing the lesser of two evils.
    The subterranean apartment smells like
heaven. Randy Russell picks himself off of the floor to find he is
surrounded by flood tables and tall green plants. The ceiling is
lined with bright lights that are wrapped in tin foil to direct
every possible ray of artificial sun onto the crop. The gracious
host hands his guest a hand rolled joint. Marijuana isn’t his
particular drug of choice, but not wanting to be rude he takes a
couple of puffs to calm himself. “We need to find a way out of
here.”
    “Why’s that?” the man asks in a serene tone
reserved for stoners and clergy.
    “You do realize this building is on
fire?”
    “On fire?”
    “Ablaze. Engulfed. Being consumed by flames
as we speak.”
    “Really?” the man asks. “Shit! I have to save
the herb.”
    While the underground dweller grabs a hemp
knapsack and begins to pluck buds from his illegal crop, Randy gets
a bit annoyed. “Fuck the herb! We need an escape plan.”
    “No this is a very special strain, man. I
cultivated it myself. It’s my baby.” The guy laughs. “My friends
and I were eating a whole mess of watermelon once while enjoying my
Mary Jane… I got to thinking about how perfect she is, and how I
would hate for someone to take her, grow their own plants and mix
it with angel dust or PCP…”
    “Angel dust is PCP,” Randy corrects.
    “Exactly! I thought about the melon. It was
seedless. What if I could engineer my baby to be seedless too?”
    “That’s very noble, but…”
    “Aren’t you that guy?”
    “Yes, I am. You may remember me from…”
    “You’re the lucky bastard married to Kelly
Peel!” the stoner says with joy in his eyes.
    “Right. Randy Russell. I’ve been in some
movies as well… Have you gathered enough? Can we get a move
on?”
    “Of course.” The stoner hurries to stuff a
few more fistfuls into his sack. “Thanks for rushing in here to
pull me out, man, I appreciate it.”
    “Yeah, don’t mention it. Honestly, I also
wanted to get away from the zombies.”
    “Zombies?”
    “Yes, zombies! The dead are among us and
they’re quite peckish. That reminds me, have you a gun?”
    The stoner simply accepts the fact that the
dead are walking. He retrieves a rifle from the bedside of the
single room space. “Let’s roll.”
    Randy takes the weapon, wanting to be
familiar with it. The barrel is rather narrow compared to the prop
guns he has handled in the past. “Is this a pellet gun?”
    “Yeah.” The man nods. “You know, for home
defense.”
    “What are you defending your home against,
tin cans?” Randy hands the weapon back with disdain. “Do they
really attack so often you felt it necessary to acquire this
thing?”
    “No…?” the stoner sounds hurt.
    “I’m sorry.” For the first time in his life,
he apologizes and means it sincerely. “I’m a bit irritable. I’m
going through a small divorce. What’s your name?”
    “Gar,” the stoner answers, blissful once
again.
    “Gah?”
    “No, Gar-r. There’s an ‘R’ at the end.”
    “That’s what I… Tell me Gah-err, where is the
nearest hospital?”
    “There’s two that I know of and they are
about the same distance from here.” Gar holds his arms out to point
towards the general directions they can be found. “Memorial is
south in the Hills, and to the north there’s Olive Grove.”
    “I detest olives. Take me to Memorial.”
    “They don’t have actual olives there… Why do
you need a hospital?” The stoner tenses on his weapon. “Did one of
the zombies bite you?”
    “No, I have a slight medical problem that I
must address.”
    “You’re sick?”
    “Not exactly. I have a small addiction to
morphine.”
    “I thought you went to rehab?”
    “That was for cocaine. I want morphine.”
Randy rationalizes the distinction. “We should probably get
going.”
    With a boost from Randy, Gar climbs out
through his window. He hasn’t been out of his apartment in months.
He’s just