Wanted: Dead or Undead (Zombie West) by Angela Scott Read Free Book Online Page A

with
pleasure at the scent of lavender—the best thing she'd smelled in months. The
suitcase also contained a hairbrush, comb, and other toiletries and ointments.
She pulled out a tube of cherry-red lipstick and twisted the bottom until the
color surfaced from its metal encasing. Proper ladies didn't wear stain on
their lips. Her ma never did and probably would've slapped the lipstick from
her hand had she been there.
    Red turned her head and listened through the canvas covering
the wagon. The men continued to talk outside, seemingly unconcerned about her
whereabouts, so she tipped the tube toward her mouth and rubbed it lightly over
her lips—first the top and then the bottom. She smacked her lips together and
was amazed at how heavy it felt. Feeling self-conscious, she drew the back of
her hand over her mouth and removed the color, then rolled the lipstick back
inside its tube and tossed it out the front opening of the covered wagon.
    Red couldn't wait to wash the grime and filth out of her
hair and off her body, so she climbed out and went in search of water. She
found a small metal tub and filled it with cool water from one of the barrels.
She considered warming it up over the fire, but didn't want to interrupt the
male bonding still taking place next to the pit. Besides, she'd bathed in water
far colder than that found in the barrels.
    Cowboy glanced up at her as she passed by, but he didn't say
anything, so she ignored him.
    Inside the wagon, she wriggled out of her clothes and sat in
her dingy undergarments. She'd been thrilled to find a replacement pair during
her earlier search, and couldn't wait to put them on after she cleaned herself.
She might have offered up a prayer of gratitude for having come across these
abandoned wagons, if she still believed in God.
    With the sun descending in the sky, she lit a small lantern
and placed it on a crate out of the way. She unwrapped the soap, dipped it into
the water, lathered up her hands and ran it over her body, washing her arms and
neck. The wagon began to smell like tiny purple flowers—it reminded her of the
hills behind her home.
    She didn't want to think about that. Not any of it. Nothing
good came from remembering what she'd lost.
    She hung her head over the washbasin and vigorously scrubbed
her curls, weaving her fingers between the strands to remove the accumulated
tangles and dirt. She felt almost human after ridding herself of the weeks of
travel and grit that coated her body.
    Done bathing, she tossed the water outside, put on the clean
undergarments and a fresh shirt, and climbed under the blankets. She
double-checked to make sure both of her Colts were loaded and within reach, and
kept her vest-pocket pistol next to her pillow. The guns must be handy and
ready, always.
    Even though Cowboy and Wen planned to take the first watch
of the night, she found it difficult to close her eyes and fall asleep. For
Red, surrendering to sleep without worry or fear had died with her family.
    When she finally shut her eyes, horrific images played out
behind her closed lids, as they did every night. Someone's mother, father, son
or daughter murdered by her hand. They weren't to blame for contracting an
illness that destroyed their bodies and minds. At one time, they held their
loved ones close and hoped for a better future, just like those fortunate
enough not to be infected. She couldn't forget that. She wouldn't. Even if
others did.
    The worst images were those of the people she'd loved most,
turned into something she no longer recognized, a creature she had to kill so
the person she loved could find eternal rest. And, ultimately, so she could
survive.
    Red opened her eyes and blinked back the tears that
threatened to fall down her cheeks.
    ***
    Trace had found it almost amusing to sit by and watch Red
prepare her own dinner over the fire after he refused to plate any of his meal
for her. He'd intentionally turned his body away, angling to keep her on the
outskirts of his