Floyd & Mikki (Book 2): Zombie Slayers (Dawn of the Living) by Joseph Tatner Page A

usual, Mikki hated that.
    Scanning the area one more time with the vehicle cameras, Floyd drove back through the water and up onto land, stopping in the middle of a parking lot. There was nothing moving anywhere within sight, but given their recent experiences, the two were still scared to death. They half expected a platoon of Super Z’s to drop from the windows or pop out of some hidden trap doors in the ground.
    Exiting the vehicle, Floyd headed over to the body of the nearest armored Super Z with Mikki at his side, shotguns raised. He kicked the body and got no response, so he reached down, unsnapped the helmet and pulled it off. Now that was an ugly face, even for a zombie. Half the things face had come off inside the helmet so Floyd shook it violently to purge it of any gore.
    “Mikki, we got a bunch of alcohol wipes, don’t we?” Floyd asked, inspecting the interior.
    “Sure do.”
    “Great, ‘cause I’m disinfecting these things as best I can before we’re putting them on again.”
    “No argument here.”
    “Really? No argument? Now you’re stealin’ my line! Who are you and what have you done with my Mikki?”
    Floyd laughed, but Mikki didn’t think it was that funny. Floyd unsnapped a few buckles and downed a zipper to begin removing the Super Z’s armored jacket. Mikki asked what he was doing and Floyd explained they had lost all their spare battle gear when Freedom blew up. Besides, this armor seemed at least as good as what they were wearing. The motocross armor was still pretty serviceable, but after continuous wear with minimal showers, they were more smelling than a little gamey. They almost didn’t need the sewer stink juice.
    Mikki helped him strip the corpse’s corpse, and several others, as well. They each grabbed two sets of Super Z armor and helmets (four sets in all), based on approximate size, then scoured the area for anything else that could be useful. Mikki found a number of cool weapons, all useless with no ammo. The weapons they already had were top of the line (thanks to Zeke), so it would take something really special to replace what they were already using. There was no way they could fit anything else on their backs or belts.
    Floyd debated taking some time to train again, but Mikki told him they already had enough training for one day—real world training. Floyd agreed, and they climbed back into the belly of their iron beast. As promised, Floyd spent the next half hour swabbing the inside of the new helmets, even though he had replaced the half-face goopy one with a cleaner version he had retrieved. The armored jackets and pants didn’t need cleaning, since the Super Z’s had worn uniforms underneath. Finally, Floyd tossed a helmet to Mikki and donned one himself.
    The internal screen came to life, and Floyd could see Mikki clearly. “Cool!” he said.
    “Hey! I heard that!” came Mikki’s voice in his helmet. “Looks like these things do got radios. And they work! Now that’s interesting.”
    “What’s interesting, Mikki?”
    “Well, before, when I looked at you, there was a weird floating question mark pointing at you. Now, you look kind of green and the question mark is gone.”
    “Hmm, you’re right. I don’t see any kind of a question mark. These things must identify whoever is wearing a helmet as a friend.”
    “Damn, Floyd! If that’s right, then them things out there will think we’re one of ‘em if we wear these helmets!”
    “Maybe. I don’t trust anything with these guys, but that would sure be great. I bet as soon as we open fire on them, though these helmets will identify us as an enemy, though. That’s how IFF usually works.”
    “IFF?”
    “Identify Friend or Foe. Technology used in fighter planes. Computer recognizes a signal that tells who the friends are and who the enemies are. They must have put the same kind of tech into these helmets.”
    “But wait a minute. If we can hear each other, doesn’t that mean the Super Z’s can hear