Zombie Fallout 9 by Mark Tufo Read Free Book Online Page B

would have wasted more time. I’m sure someone already had eyes on us. Stationary, and out in the open, were generally not great options together. “Fug.” Something thick and wet got stuck in my throat as I reached into the decomposing reproductive organs. It was worse than I’d even imagined it could be. I had to use force to pull the keys as if they’d been glued in place with pubic hair and ligature. I stood holding them as far from my body as possible.
    â€œHere.” I attempted to hand them off. BT threw an old shirt over to me. I wiped the keys and myself down with enough force to rip off a few layers of skin and some metal shavings respectively. “Volkswagen.” I could finally see the top of the fob.
    BT moved quickly. “Dome light still works; we might be in luck.”
    â€œYeah, this is luck.” I said, walking over to the bug. It was a stick. I placed the car in neutral, pumped the gas, depressed the clutch, and turned the key. A slow sluggish whirring relented to a faster power generation, and finally, German engineering kicked in and the car started. And maybe lady luck was looking out for us, at least a little; the tank was nearly full.
    â€œGet in. I need to find some Lysol right quick.” Can’t even begin to relate to you how I had to pretend my right hand was dead to me. There were so many times I wanted to rub the corner of my eye or perhaps scratch an itch, and I needed to do everything with my left. As far as my right was concerned, I was fairly certain it now housed the plague, and I would not spread the disease any further. Whatever guiding force we had for the day was still keeping watch. We hadn’t gone more than three blocks from where we picked up our new ride when we found a small mom-and-pop convenience store. The kind that held on by the skin of their teeth as the Seven Elevens of the world pushed them into the dirt, much like Blockbuster had done to every other video rental place.
    â€œYou’re going to stop?” Ron asked after I had already pulled up alongside the building.
    â€œMike you want me to come with you or….” BT nodded his head over to Ron.
    â€œStay here. I’ll be right back.” Sure, I could have used BT to watch my back, but if anything happened in there, I, at least, had my wits about me enough to do something. Ron right now looked like he could get rolled by a gang of peace-loving Hare Krishnas. Are they still around? Whatever. I got out of the car and made sure a round was chambered and my selector switch was on fire then headed for the front door. I had not been expecting what I saw when I cautiously poked my head in. The store was pristine, as if this were a time capsule of how things had been before the zombies came.
    It was possible someone had truly lost their fucking mind and was attempting to keep one small facet of his or her life as normal as possible. Unlikely, but possible. Then I got my answer in the cloying stench of death. There were zombies in here. The aisle I wanted was past the rows of cupcakes and chips, bread, automotive goods, and candy. I could see the baby blue color of a diaper package, and I knew right next to that would be a blissful box of wipes. I needed those fucking wipes bad, like a heroin addict needs a fix, like a fat kid needs a cupcake, like a skinny person needs a salad, like a white girl needs a pumpkin spice latte. I needed those fucking wipes, and I was going to risk everything for them. I stepped all the way in. Sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing the store in a fair amount of light. Nothing moved except the lazy swirl of dust. The only thing out of place was a little bell on the floor. I imagine that had been used to notify the owner that someone had entered.
    I was past the first aisle, still no blood, no bullet casings, no bullet holes, no bodies, no zombies, just rows and rows of merchandise. If I hadn’t been so fixated on those damn baby