Until the End by Tracey Ward Read Free Book Online Page A

it really matters. I lift my bow, notch the arrow and use the sight to line him up. Then I decide to test a theory.
    I let the arrow fly and it hits the mark perfectly, exactly where I wanted it. Right in the throat. On any living human creature, this is a kill shot. The windpipe is broken, I might have nicked an artery and with how much force I put behind that arrow, I probably touched down on his spine as well. But he doesn’t care. Black tar blood flows from the wound but there’s no pulse to it, no heartbeat behind it spilling it out rhythmically. It simply runs out around the arrow, the way it would if you poked a hole in a milk jug and gravity took over spilling the contents out to the ground. And he just keeps on shuffle dragging toward us, his head dangling back at a worse angle than before.
    “I told you, head shots are the only ones that work.” Jordan says, his voice starting to become edgy as Zombie Boy creeps toward us. “You have to destroy the brain.”
    “I know.” I say, grabbing another arrow and notching it.
    “Really? So is this how you won your trophy?”
    I don’t like his tone.
    “No,” I say pulling the string taught and taking aim. “This is.”
    I let the arrow go and it enters the exposed soft tissue under his chin and slices through his brain, lodging itself in his skull. The tips on the arrows are meant for hunting small game and not expected to pierce bone, so my target areas on a human skull are going to be limited. Eye socket, mouth, ear, temple, or that sweet spot at the base of the skull. Unless I get my hands on chisel point broadheads, then I can shoot through a human skull and straight into the gooey center. The tissue under the jaw works today, though, because Zombie Boy drops like a stone to the ground. No more groaning. Except from his partner, now rendered immobile. Jordan and I close the distance left between us and them, and as I pull my two arrows from my kill and use a cloth I took from the kitchen to wipe them clean, he flattens the head of half pint on the floor.
    Jordan motions for the rag I used, presumably to wipe his bat off, but I shake my head and loop it through a belt loop on my jeans so it dangles in front of me.
    “Use your shirt.” I tell him.
    “What? No.”
    “It’s already sprayed in their blood and if you put more on it, it’s a good thing, right? You said they can smell us. If you’re wearing their scent, they’re less likely to detect you.” I swing my blood soaked rag for emphasis.
    “Ugh.” he groans, but he does it, taking the bottom hem of his shirt and swiping it over the bats surface.
    We continue our progress toward the exit, getting back on alert when we enter the narrow passage between the common room and the front door. There’s a reception desk off to the left and we proceed by it carefully, both of us expecting someone to leap up from underneath it and lunge at us I’m sure. I breathe a little easier as we pass it and stand side by side at the door, ready to push out into the sunlight. We look at each, he grins and I grimace, then we’re out the door.
    The plan is to find his car, which he thinks he parked a couple of blocks away. Thinks being the operative word here. Once we get to the car, wherever it may be, we get the hell out of town, killing zombies left and right along the way. That’s as much of The Plan as I know, but I’m really hoping there’s more to it than that. Maybe a Big Picture section that I’m not yet privy to. I’m going on a lot of faith here, and for a girl who doesn’t trust her own mind let alone other people, it’s a pretty big leap. At any rate, that is The Plan.
    When does anything ever go according to plan?
    The sound of groaning hits me like a wave when we open the door. There are so many of them at all sides, I can’t even count right away. My body freezes and I simply stare. I have no idea what to do, but the thought banging around the loudest in my head is that I don’t have nearly