Living With the Dead: This New Disease (Book 5) by Joshua Guess Read Free Book Online

Zombies, no matter how
vicious and clever, are inherently a little sad. It's hard to hate
them when you think about what they were. Where they came from.

Same
thing with fighting living enemies. There's really not a lot to be
cheerful about there. Marauders especially are a reminder of how bad
human beings can be. Killing them even in defense of our home is more
of a task that has to be done rather than an event to be
celebrated.

Which is a good thing, I think. Violence has
always been a big part of human nature, as has hatred in many forms.
It's always reassuring to see people understand and control those
reactions.

Case in point:

A small group of New Breed
tried to attack the Exiles yesterday. The fallback point has
undergone some radical changes in recent weeks. They've got some
guard stations set up along the beginnings of a wall that encloses a
good chunk of area. We've got watchers in various places across the
river. One of them saw a trio of New Breed making their way along the
river bank, below the line of sight of the men in the nearest guard
tower.

When the undead crept up in the long shadows cast by
the sunset, they were in a perfect position to surprise the men in
the guard station. It was only a raised box with high sides, the
floor of the thing about four feet off the ground.

So, when
the zombies went to make their move, one of our watchers fired his
rifle.

At first the Exile guards thought it was an attack.
They spun around and looked across the river, probably searching for
a puff of smoke or the next blare of muzzle flash. It was only then
that the guards noticed the remaining two zombies that had worked
their way up to the station. Even as one of the attacking New Breed
leaped over his fallen brother to attack the closest Exile, our
watcher fired again. One shot, one kill. Right through the zombie's
ear.

The guard at the back of the station pulled himself
together and fired his weapon at the remaining zombie, then made sure
his partner was alright. They looked across the river for a while,
apparently searching for the shooter who'd taken out two of the three
undead.

The watcher told me all of this, witnessed through the
scope of his gun. He told me how he couldn't help but smile when the
two Exiles raised their hands as if to wave, then saluted their
unseen savior.

The funny and interesting thing about new
neighbors is that you never know what kind of people some of them
might turn out to be.

Saturday,
March 17, 2012
Éirinn
go Brách
    Posted
by  Josh
Guess I've
never been a heavy drinker. I mean, when I used to drink it wasn't
often. When I did partake, it was usually enough to blind most
people. My ancestry is Irish, German, and Welsh with a smattering of
other nationalities. I can hold my booze.

Since The Fall,
though, I've barely touched the stuff. I certainly didn't plan on
starting my day with a glass of expensive Irish whiskey. Jess had
other ideas. I don't know where she got it, but I had to drink it.
Not because it's St. Patrick's day, though that was why she surprised
me with booze. Because it was cold. Ice cold.

Yeah. Actual
ice. The novelty of having a very cold drink was enough to entice me
into drinking four ounces of Jameson Gold Reserve on an empty
stomach. It felt good.

As a rule we try to limit how much the
giant refrigerator Dave built is opened. We use it for long-term
storage of food, and the less traffic the better. Jess managed to
sneak in an ice cube tray. Since she's quickly assuming the role of
Grand Poobah of food supply, no one held a little indulgence against
her.

It's enough to make me wonder if she read the morning
reports before I did, and knew I might need a drink.

We've had
scout teams going to Shelby county once a day since our battle with
the New Breed there. They do a wide circle to see if any large
gatherings of zombies are on the move. Yesterday the scouts did a
more intensive round after discovering the stronghold of the people
we brought here from