Lost in the Apocalypse by L.C. Mortimer Page B

enough to attract the attention of any Z’s that might be lurking nearby. She reached him and he held out his arm to stop her from going any further.
    Another infected was up ahead in a clearing, wandering aimlessly.
    “Seriously, where are they coming from?” Neil muttered. Robert headed out and wacked it with a baseball bat, quietly and quickly putting it out of its misery.
    “It’s too far from town, isn’t it?” Emily asked, but her heart fell. Would they ever be safe? The Infected were slow and growled a lot, but all it took was one bite, one scratch, one cut. All it took was too much contact and you’d be done for.
    She knew that much from losing her sister.
    Robert motioned for everyone to follow him and they did. They went down a little hill and stepped over a fallen tree trunk. There were piles of leaves: a sign that winter wouldn’t be long in coming. Finally, they reached a road.
    “There,” Robert pointed down the road. “Right there.”
    Neil, Butter, and Emily looked where he was wagging his finger. There was a building up ahead, but she couldn’t really tell what it was.
    “Is that a church?” She asked, squinting.
    “It’s a country bar,” Butter said, suddenly sounding pretty pleased with himself.
    Sure enough, when they started walking toward it, they saw the shabby faded Branding Iron Restaurant and Tavern sign.
    “Looks like everyone was having fun, but the party ended early,” Butter pointed to a row of cars parked outside the restaurant. They all looked to be in fine condition, but the building itself was crawling with Infected.
    “Why are they just now getting out?” Emily wondered aloud, but then she saw the window on the side of the building. While the front door was closed and looked sturdy enough, a branch had fallen onto the side of the building, shattering two of the windows.
    “You can thank our tornado for that,” Neil said, and headed toward the building with his gun held high.
    “This is gonna be fun,” Robert grinned. Emily wondered about his use of the word “fun,” but followed.
    It looked like someone had turned in the bar and no one had gotten out alive before the tornado knocked a hole in the window. Now there was an Infected hanging half out of the window and another one standing by, staring at it.
    The Z turned as the group approached and stared at them. Neil hesitated for just a moment, then shot it. He missed and shot again, this time hitting it between the eyes.
    The Infected that was in the window dropped to the ground and another one took its place, slowly drawing its body over the broken glass, not crying from pain as the shards tore into its clothing and flesh.
    The Z on the ground stood up, righting itself, and turned to the group. Again, Neil shot it.
    “Save some for the rest of us, will ya?” Robert called out, but he didn’t make a move to help. Neil stood in position, waiting as Infected after Infected crawled out of the tavern and he, in turn, shot them. Soon there was a pile of Infected, so the ones that came out of the window had to crawl over the bodies before plopping to the ground. Soon Neil was shooting them before they even stood, just creating a long pile of bodies.
    “About done?” Robert asked when Neil shot the last one.
    “About.” He answered, shoving his gun in the waistband of his jeans. He had stopped twice to reload and Emily bet he was about out of bullets, but it didn’t seem to stop him. He walked over to the door of the tavern and kicked it three times before stopping.
    “Anyone have an axe?” He muttered, turning back to the group.
    “Better idea,” Butter said. He walked forward, looked at each of them pointedly, and turned the doorknob. The door swung open and light poured into the bar. He took a step back and waited until the first Infected came wandering out toward the light. “Dumbass,” he muttered and punched the first Infected in the head. Knocked off balance, it wobbled and tumbled to its knees. He