The Lost Gods by Horace Brickley Read Free Book Online Page A

honestly don’t know anymore.”
    “My vote is that you are going crazy, and that I should just put one in my dome and be done with all this bullshit. That’s my fuckin’ vote.”
    “Come on, Adam. Let’s just check it out. We’ll treat it like any other supply run.”
    Adam pulled his lips in tight against his teeth. His jaw clenched. He exhaled through his nose.
    “Fine, I'll go. We'll check out the noise, but if it turns out it's some kind of super zombie, then I vote we get the fuck out of Silverdale.”
    “Agreed,” said Jesse. “So shall we?”
    “Wait, what? Like now?”
    “If it is just a person, I imagine the situation is rather dire.”
    “I’m still really tired though,” said Adam.
    “You can sleep when you're dead,” said Jesse. He opened the large, metal toolbox where they kept their supplies and food.
    “Not anymore. These dead fucks seem pretty active to me,” said Adam. Adam climbed down from the platform and pulled his pistol out of its holster. He checked its magazine.
    “I thought you were saving that for, you know?”
    “They're called suicide missions for a reason,” said Adam.
    “We're coming back from this. We’re just going to take a look. It'll be fine, so long as we just keep moving and keep quiet.”
    “Lead the way,” said Adam. He threw Jesse a moc king salute and pushed open the gate.

 
    Three

    The Hunt
    Jesse and Adam walked down the desolate road that ran through the middle of Silverdale. Cars with smashed windows an d popped, empty trunks frozen in time like ancient relics. Months ago, Jesse had divided the town into quadrants on his map. He and Adam had worked through each section of downtown and cleared the streets of reanimates. They had already scavenged every automobile in town for food and useful items, but the shops beyond the mall remained unexplored. Once they returned from this recon mission, Jesse hoped he would find some new clothes. His jacket and pants sported holes and grotesque stains.
    They passed the final strip mall and headed to the outskirts of town.
    “Are you sure that they went this way?” Jesse asked.
    “Yep,” said Adam.
    They walked in an awkward silence for several minutes. Only the sounds of their breathing, the rustling of clothes, and their boots slipping along the wet asphalt touched their ears. A calm wind blew through Jesse’s long, oily hair and his bushy beard. Rain sprinkled the town. A chill ran up Jesse’s back. He flipped up his hood and shivered.
    “Hey that’s Dan’s old house,” said Adam. He pointed to a two-story house on a hill that bordered the road.
    “You remember that time —” said Adam.
    “The past is dead, as is the future. No point in rem iniscing.”
    “That's uplifting,” said Adam. “Truly inspirational.”
    “I should have been a motivational speaker,” said Jesse.
    “Yeah, right now you are motivating me to put this 9 mm against my temple and empty the magazine.”
    “Don't say that,” said Jesse.
    “I’m just joking,” said Adam.
    “No, I mean you'd never get more than two shots off,” said Jesse, “I hope you brought more than two bu llets.”
    “That's morbid,” said Adam.
    In his peripheral vision, Jesse watched Adam release the magazine of his gun and look at the rounds. After Adam’s OCD tendencies were satisfied, he reloaded the gun.
    “I definitely brought more than two rounds. I've got four mags of hollow points,” said Adam.
    “All a growing boy needs to combat the zombie horde,” said Jesse.
    “Truer words ain't never been said,” said Adam and held up his pistol. Jesse looked at the gun. It had a si mple style and was built like a tank. It was heavy and devoid of frivolities, but it had always fired and it had withstood ample punishment. Adam had dropped it dozens of times in the heat of battle, and he had bludgeoned several reanimates with it. Never once had it failed to fire.
    “American craftsmanship at its finest,” said Adam.
    Jesse held up his cudgel