The Creeping Dead: A Zombie Novel by Edward P. Cardillo Read Free Book Online Page A

was only temporary made it priceless.
    Marcus popped two quarters in the slot (it was still only fifty cents after all these years), and he grabbed the rifle. He propped Tyrell up on one of the wooden boxes at their feet and helped him aim the rifle. After several shots they managed to make tin cans pop up in the air, a cowboy play the piano for a few seconds, and a rattle snake rattle.
    “Good job, sweetie!” Tara looked across the arcade and back at Mike. She watched him admire the young children and their families, making their joy his. She admired him for that. Here was a man who lost his wife, yet he picked up and made a new beginning here at Smuggler’s Bay.
    She smiled as her son cheered every time he hit something. She smiled at her husband, who was sharing something from his youth, this simple shooting gallery, with their son. She wondered if Tyrell would look back one day with fondness at the memories they were making from this point onward.
    Mike inspired her, giving her hope that perhaps she could pick up the pieces and find happiness. Perhaps Smuggler’s Bay would be Tara’s new beginning as well.
     
    ***
     
    Vinnie Cantone looked at his watch as he walked down the boardwalk with Ted and Frankie, toward the Shore Club. Ten after eleven. The club would just start to get hopping.
    “It should be good tonight,” said Ted in his black button down shirt and matching black pants. “Lots of Benny snatch down here.”
    “I don’t like it when you bash them,” said Vinnie pointedly.
    Frankie put his arm around him. “C’mon, bro, you’re always defending the Bennies.”
    “They’re a bunch of obnoxious hipster pricks from Northern Jersey and New York,” said Ted.
    “They’re not sophisticated folk like us,” quipped Frankie. His rather generously-applied cologne made Vinnie dizzy.
    Vinnie shoved Frankie away. “Yeah, well these hipster pricks from Northern New Jersey and New York support Smuggler’s Bay with their dollars. If this town only had Townies like you two assholes, it’d be in big trouble. Besides, they’re not all that bad.”
    He, too, had originally hated the Bennies, until his father shared with him the small business owner’s perspective on them. Vinnie still hated Guidos, though.
    “He’s right,” laughed Ted. “Remember that Benny bitch I met last summer, from Long Island?”
    “The one with the big tits?” asked Frankie.
    “Yeah. I fucked her in her hotel room and then on the beach. She wasn’t that bad.”
    “You guys talk big considering you dress like them. You look like a couple of metrosexuals,” chided Vinnie.
    “Oh, and you’re representing in your jeans and heavy metal tee-shirts.”
    “I’m wearing a plain black tee tonight,” said Vinnie.
    “That’s why you never hook up,” said Frankie. “Because you don’t have any style.”
    “Why do you think he hangs out with us?” said Ted, implying that he and Frankie apparently provided enough style for all three of them.
    “Because I don’t have any style,” teased Vinnie.
    There was a gentle breeze on the boardwalk, a real relief from the scorching daytime. They reached Garfield Avenue and turned off the boardwalk, cutting through a thick line of parents, children, and strollers.
    “So what about Dharma?” asked Frankie.
    “What about her?” replied Vinnie, knowing damn well what his friend was getting at.
    “I hear she’s going to be at the club tonight.”
    “And?”
    “When are you gonna make your move, bro?”
    Vinnie tipped his head back in exasperation as they passed alongside the Cyclone Water Park. “Jesus Christ, you too?”
    “What do you mean me too ?”
    “Mike asked me the same thing at lunch today.”
    Ted stabbed the ocean air with a declarative finger. “The old man’s right, you know. He should know. I bet he’s snagged lots of tail in his time.”
    “Jesus, Ted.”
    “Ted’s right,” said Frankie. “Did he give you any advice?”
    “I wouldn’t let