Resurrection of the Fallen (Book 1): Surviving New York by Misti Vanhoy Read Free Book Online Page A

on it!” My dad would probably be crossing his arms over his chest right about now with a satisfied look painted on his face. He knew she wouldn’t leave the group alone. She wanted an extra set of eyes with her at all times, no excuses. For someone so daring, she sure was paranoid about being alone in this world, unless she was on her motorcycle. It was the only thing we knew of that separated her from the undead. Otherwise, she was just as cold-hearted and dead as the things that pursued us.
    “No, no. We go as a group or not at all,” Reagan replied in a defeated tone. She more than likely had that pout of hers going on. The kind that made you feel guilty for telling her no on something. She had a habit of using that face when she didn’t get her way. I smiled to myself knowing she hated to be at the mercy of others. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why she hated the idea of being alone in this world. I felt that she might not be as confident in herself as she put off.
    Four years with these people and we still didn’t know them well. We figured out majority of what we knew by the way that they acted or the way that they dressed, but for the most part they were still total strangers to us. And yet, we all depended on one another for survival, even those who tried to pretend otherwise. No matter what we had to do, we were always there for one another in times of need. Ill tempers aside, we had made an almost unbreakable connection with one another.
    I pulled my blanket tighter around me and lay back down on the plush rug that used to be in the kitchen when we first got here. It’s soft, furry texture made me think of my rug back home. It helped me to feel more at ease and comfortable with my current situation. I could lie on my side and watch the zombies stir from their sleep and go in search of food. They would go in and out of buildings, look under cars, and check any basements they could find for one scrap of flesh. Some would stand there and pick the rotting skin off of their own bodies just to be able to eat something. I always felt like I was in a horror movie that didn’t end and the directors had run out of ideas for the story to continue. Everyone, including us when we went out for supplies, just shuffled around aimlessly, looking for something they may never find. Well, they would find it if they would come past our barrier of rotting zombie corpses.
    We figured out quickly that the smell of their own kind rotting away deterred them from certain spots, especially if there were many of them gathered together there. They absolutely refused to enter a graveyard for the smell alone. So when we found this place last year, we immediately started piling up dead zombies as we killed them or picked them up off the ground. We hung them in front of windows, sat them around the doorways, and made a circle with them around the emergency escape out back. This prevented any others from coming in; they hated too much of their own stench. We just had to keep adding to the pile sometimes as they decomposed much faster than a live zombie, or even a person for that matter. It only took two weeks before they were nothing but bones in a pile of clothes.
    I hoped often that someone somewhere was studying these types of phenomenon. It would be a complete shame if they weren’t. I could go down in history for figuring out the things I have already if we were all that was left. I had to laugh at myself for that thought. If the human race survived our extinction, books and history would be far from anyone’s minds. We would all be running and screaming through the streets, taking long showers in hot water again, having sex with the most attractive person we could find, and playing on playgrounds. We would rejoice and cry with one another before cleaning up our beloved planet. I could see it in my head as clear as day.
    Samantha would come out of her shell once more and go back to how she used to be; carefree and happy.