The Zed Files Trilogy (Book 1): The Hanging Tree by David Andrew Wright Read Free Book Online Page B

slide down the stairwell and into the living room.  My shoulder hurts like hell but I’m moving too fast to give a damn.  A few quick steps and I’m out the door, around the corner and out of sight.  At the edge of the yard, I stop and stomp my feet, depositing a few chunks of coon poo that were stuck to the arch of my boots.  I look back at the road and continue on, making a zigzag run up a short hill back into the trees. 
    A giant shagbark hickory tree stands just short of the top of the hill and I duck in behind it.   I dial the scope back up to 9 power and look back down to my broken little hotel.  A brindle pit bull bounds into the yard and sniffs where I stomped my feet.  Two men in muddy fatigues stroll up behind him, their rifles slung across their chests.  The one on the right whistles at the dog and yells, “Come on, Archie, let’s go.”  The dog looks back at him and continues to chew on a piece of shit.  The man waves his arm at the dog, “Come on, you shit eat’n face licker.  Let’s go, boy.  Hunt’em up.”
    Archie stands and sniffs the wind.  He looks in my direction and squares his shoulders.  My little .22 wouldn’t even slow him down unless I hit him with a real lucky shot.  I remain motionless, hoping that he won’t be able to wind me with a mouth full of crap.
    “Archie,” the man yells again.  The dog spins and bounds around the corner of the house to where I left the Zed body.  As the two men inspect the full dead naked Zed girl, Archie turns and sniffs in my direction again.  A deer path runs away from my hiding place and into the trees.  I could try and just slip off.  But if I make a break for it and Archie bolts, it’ll go badly. 
    I stay frozen to the back of the tree watching them through the rifle scope.  The men and dog are less than a hundred yards away and Archie remains staring in my direction.  I become stone.  I become tree.  I become nothing.
    The two men duck in behind the back of the house and light up a cigarette.  One man peeks around the corner while the other one smokes.  Archie sniffs the dead naked Zed woman and prances back and forth.
    I jump when a single gunshot echoes up from the road.  The two men wrap up their break and turn quickly with Archie to disappear around the corner.  Another gunshot follows and then more and more.  I continue watching through my scope, unable to see beyond the house. 
    The gunfire intensifies as I see the first Zed enter the back yard of the house and turn towards the road.  He is followed by another and another.  The rifle and pistol fire comes in even bursts now as the yard becomes quickly overrun by the sprinting and the rotting, the highly mobile not-alive and not dead. 
    I take my eye away from the rifle scope and look out across what I can see of the overgrown field behind the house.  Silhouettes of stumbling and running figures take shape as the second wave, the shufflers, move in.  These are the scratch and dent Zeds who drag broken legs and sport large chunks of missing flesh.  Some are run through with fire pokers and pool cues; others twist as they walk with claw hammers or short axes sticking out of their shoulders or ribs.  A howl goes off back near the house as I hear what must be a mounted .50 coming to life.  “Must be getting hairy down there,” I mutter.  “Bad place to get caught too with no exit for the vehicles.  I sure hope this isn’t what I think it is.”  I put the thought out of my mind. 
    The shuffling Zed haven’t noticed me so I step around the tree and pull out Mr. Happy.  Sure, I could run and piss at the same time, and Lord knows I’ve done it before, but this ain’t my first Zed rodeo.  I’ve got time.  No need to panic.  As the tension in my gut releases, I look around the tree to make sure I don’t have a sprinter bearing down on me.   I sing quietly to myself, “Here comes Johnny with his pecker in his hand, he’s a one ball man and he’s