Live (NOLA Zombie Book 3) by Gillian Zane Read Free Book Online Page B

side of the road when I had the sudden insight to talk to them. If there was a family living in here, alone, they had to be paranoid, ever watchful. If there were other people roaming around in the area, they would know. They had to know.

    “You think the family is still living in here?” I asked Zach.

    “Yeah, from what I know, I haven’t seen them in a couple months, though. They might be gone.”  

    “Let’s go ask them if they’ve seen anything. If the rednecks are in the area, they gotta know something.”

    “Doesn’t hurt to try,” he shrugged.  

    I put the truck into gear and pulled into the neighborhood, heading to one of the back properties. It was a large house, raised, with a wrap-around porch, like most of the houses in this area. The lawn was overgrown and there were weeds taking over their boat launch, but other than that the house was in good order.  

    Our truck was a diesel, so the rumble of the engine would be heard from inside the house if they were still around. As we pulled up I saw motion from the porch, the flick of a curtain, the movement of a shadow at the window.  

    I reached in the back of the cab and pulled out a few bags of MREs and got out of the truck. Zach jumped out and went around the vehicle to stand at my side. I held up my hands, MREs in hand, showing them that I was unarmed and I elbowed Zach to do the same. He was tense and at the ready, I didn’t know what he would do, I had this sudden fear that he would go up there guns drawn, demanding answers.  

    “Neighborly,” I whispered.

    He huffed and I think he responded with, “No shit, asshole,” but I couldn’t be certain. Hey, better safe than sorry.  

    I knew the family was a bit on the paranoid side, but I wasn’t going to confront them unarmed. We both had Brownings, our handy 9mms, tucked into our waistbands, hopefully the family would see this as protection and not aggression.  

    The front door opened and a boy who couldn’t be older than eighteen came out onto the porch. He had a shotgun in his right hand and didn’t look the least bit welcoming.  

    “We come in peace,” Zach said in a sarcastic drawl and I could have shot him. The guy had no social etiquette.  

    “We just want to talk,” I added and held up the MREs again. “I have a few MREs if you want them. We just want to ask you a few questions. We’re from the compound a few miles from here.”

    “Yeah, I remember that one,” the teen pointed a finger at Zach. “We don’t want no trouble, we just want to be left alone.”  

    “We respect that, we wouldn’t bother you if we didn’t need help,” I said.

    “We don’t have anything, we can’t help you out,” the teen said belligerently.  

    “Just information,” Zach spoke up quickly before the teen could slip away. “We don’t need anything, just information.”  

    “Have you noticed any other men in the area? Maybe a pickup truck with two men in it? An old woman?” I quickly asked.

    “Why do y’all need help with other people? You going to hurt them?” he asked suspiciously.

    “They took one of our group, a woman, and we don’t think they have good intentions. We have to get her back, if you’ve seen them…” Zach said.

    “She’s family, they took our family,” I added to promote empathetic feelings from the kid.  

    “They took your woman? That ain’t right.” The teen finally looked like he was more open to helping us.  

    “No, it’s not and we want to find her quickly, if not, we’re scared of what they’ll do to her. We think they’re stealing from people, grabbing women and trying to take anything they can by gunpoint. They aren’t good people.”  

    “That’s bullshit. This world may be gone to shit, but stealing ain’t right,” the teen spat. “We did see someone, an old woman and a couple of big men. Fat fuckers, look like ex-cons or something, not big like you guys, fat. They’re up in a camp closer to New Orleans