The Reanimation of Edward Schuett by Derek J. Goodman Read Free Book Online Page B

what they wanted, but they were ravenous, attacking anything that moved and ripping it apart with their teeth.
    Edward didn’t know how long he sat there watching, but when he came to his senses again he realized Dana was no longer in the room with them. He called her name, but she didn’t answer. When he tried to move Julia out of the way so he could go look for Dana, however, she didn’t budge. She was just dead weight in his arms. That scared him at first until he noticed her shivering. He put a hand to her head, ready to test for a fever or something, and that was when she bit him.
    He remembered yelling and pulling away from her as she first fell to the floor and then began crawling after him. He moved away, suddenly very frightened of the vacant and unfocused look in her eyes, but all memories after that faded to a hazy intense blur in his mind. All he could remember was the smell of burning brats coming in through the window, and with that he had begun to feel very, very hungry.
    The shed he was in now didn’t have any windows, but it was poorly constructed enough that light shone through several wide gaps in the roof slats, and Edward used the feeble light to look at his hand where Julia had once bit him. His arm still looked rotted and festered, although decidedly less so than it had when he had first woken up. His body really did appear to be healing itself. There was a faint outline near his thumb and forefinger that might have once been the impression of teeth, but they wouldn’t have been recognizable if he hadn’t known what he was looking for. It might even have just been his imagination. He continued staring for a long time until he was finally able to forcibly accept the truth.
    Everyone he had met so far was right. Edward was a zombie. Or at least he had been one yesterday. He had no idea what he was now.

Chapter Seven
     
    With her rifle Spanky slung on a strap over her shoulder, Rae biked through the streets of Fond du Lac to the North Side. According to what little history Rae knew about the city, the northern end had once been the site of Lakeside Park. Her parents had once told her that the park had included a playground and various rides, all situated on the shore of beautiful Lake Winnebago. The lake was still there, as well as the marina and historic lighthouse that had lit the way for boats to get into the harbor, but everything else had changed. The playground equipment and broken down carousel had been hauled away long ago, and all the canals that had wound their way through the park had been filled in. The barn from the old petting zoo was all that still stood, and it now served as the entrance to the Jamboree.
    Rae locked her bike up at the bike rack next to about thirty others. People like Ringo could afford a little gasoline for their cars thanks to all the money they brought in with the increasingly rare zombies (and didn’t have any real choice in the matter, since it was kind of hard to pull around a cage full of zombies on a ten-speed), but most other people had to make do with simpler transportation. Rae had seen on television how people on the coasts were starting to have huge amounts of oil imported in again, but as usual everyone in the center of the country had to make do with the dregs.
    The Jamboree didn’t look open for business just yet, as it was still far too early in the day for any big crowds, but there at least seemed to be some activity as the Jamboree’s employees prepared for the night’s show. Rae walked up to the front entrance in the converted barn and waited while a bored looking teenage boy came up to the ticket counter.
    “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said with a tone that made it evident he had given this same line hundreds of times before. “We are not quite opened for business yet. Show times are every Wednesday and Friday from eight p.m. to ten p.m. Tickets will be available—”
    “I’m not here for tickets,” Rae said. The Jamboree’s new days