headless corpse, he hopped out of the bathroom, leaning hard against the walls and taking the shotgun with him even though the thing was empty. He held onto the railing as he hopped heavily down the stairs. Sounds of hissing came from the basement, but he ignored them. He rounded the corner, found the front entryway, and slammed off balance against the door. His back and ankle cried out in pain, and Scott grabbed for the knob, yanking the door open with a grunt. Sunlight blazed in. He hopped down the steps on momentum alone before collapsing on the yellow lawn. His shotgun flew from his hand. Hisses cut the air behind him, closer than he thought possible.
Then, he heard the engine. There on the road, a van drove down the street toward him, while the hissing grew louder.
Scott gasped and raised his hand.
9
That’s no fucking gimp! The thought ripped through Gus’s mind, and he turned the wheel right at the figure lying on the yellow grass. He lined up the wheels of the beast at the last instant so that the vehicle went over the person and crashed into the three undead cocksuckers at the guy’s heels. The grill guard knocked them back ten feet, sending them to land in broken heaps.
Flipping his visor down, Gus swung open his door and jumped out. He ran over to the three deadheads just getting to their knees and caved in their skulls with his bat. He turned around and saw that the street was clear. It wouldn’t stay that way for long. He flipped the visor back up and went around to the side of the van. Dropping to his hands and knees, he peered under it and locked eyes with a very frightened-looking young man.
“You okay?” Gus asked.
“Yeah.” The guy smiled.
“C’mere.” Gus offered his hand, and the man took it. Gus pulled him out from under the van. “Get up and get in the van.”
The guy on the ground rolled onto his back and winced. “My ankle’s fucked up.”
Gus bent over and, grasping the guy’s arm, heaved the hurt man to his feet. Together, they struggled around the front of the van. Gus got the door open and pushed his soon-to-be passenger inside.
“My gun’s over there.” The man pointed. Gus turned and spotted a shotgun, a twelve gauge, just like his own. He scooped up the weapon and hurried back to the van. As expected, zombies emerged from between houses and shambled toward them. Gus didn’t give them another moment’s thought. He had gotten what he came for. He climbed aboard, tossed the extra shotgun in the back, buckled in, and shoved the beast into drive . The van smashed into three approaching corpses as it barrelled away from the house and into the street. He paused only for the moment it took to change gears, then they sped off toward the main drag.
“Buckled in?” Gus asked, leaning over the steering wheel.
A snick , then, “Yeah.”
“What’s your name?”
“Scott.”
“I’m Gus.” He glanced over once, then twice. The dude was staring at him. “What’re you looking at?”
The other man squinted in discomfort for a moment. “Nothing.”
Gus frowned before turning his attention back to the road.
The van turned onto the main street and began the drive home. Gus eased off the gas a little and glanced over at Scott—bulky and tall, thinning blond hair with a shitload of stubble, maybe a week’s worth. The guy had a fat face, which puzzled Gus.
“What’s up with the foot?”
“Fell down some stairs.”
“In that house?”
“Yeah.”
“Anyone with you?”
“Yeah.” Scott’s face became set then, and Gus didn’t have to ask any other questions on the matter.
“Where we going?” Scott asked after a bit.
“Back to my place.” Gus looked out the side window. “You can’t do much like you are. You’re lucky. I thought you were one of them.”
“Yeah.”
Hearing the weariness in the man’s voice, Gus looked over at and saw Scott press his head against the headrest. Scott’s eyes opened and closed slowly, as if his system was being
Then, he heard the engine. There on the road, a van drove down the street toward him, while the hissing grew louder.
Scott gasped and raised his hand.
9
That’s no fucking gimp! The thought ripped through Gus’s mind, and he turned the wheel right at the figure lying on the yellow grass. He lined up the wheels of the beast at the last instant so that the vehicle went over the person and crashed into the three undead cocksuckers at the guy’s heels. The grill guard knocked them back ten feet, sending them to land in broken heaps.
Flipping his visor down, Gus swung open his door and jumped out. He ran over to the three deadheads just getting to their knees and caved in their skulls with his bat. He turned around and saw that the street was clear. It wouldn’t stay that way for long. He flipped the visor back up and went around to the side of the van. Dropping to his hands and knees, he peered under it and locked eyes with a very frightened-looking young man.
“You okay?” Gus asked.
“Yeah.” The guy smiled.
“C’mere.” Gus offered his hand, and the man took it. Gus pulled him out from under the van. “Get up and get in the van.”
The guy on the ground rolled onto his back and winced. “My ankle’s fucked up.”
Gus bent over and, grasping the guy’s arm, heaved the hurt man to his feet. Together, they struggled around the front of the van. Gus got the door open and pushed his soon-to-be passenger inside.
“My gun’s over there.” The man pointed. Gus turned and spotted a shotgun, a twelve gauge, just like his own. He scooped up the weapon and hurried back to the van. As expected, zombies emerged from between houses and shambled toward them. Gus didn’t give them another moment’s thought. He had gotten what he came for. He climbed aboard, tossed the extra shotgun in the back, buckled in, and shoved the beast into drive . The van smashed into three approaching corpses as it barrelled away from the house and into the street. He paused only for the moment it took to change gears, then they sped off toward the main drag.
“Buckled in?” Gus asked, leaning over the steering wheel.
A snick , then, “Yeah.”
“What’s your name?”
“Scott.”
“I’m Gus.” He glanced over once, then twice. The dude was staring at him. “What’re you looking at?”
The other man squinted in discomfort for a moment. “Nothing.”
Gus frowned before turning his attention back to the road.
The van turned onto the main street and began the drive home. Gus eased off the gas a little and glanced over at Scott—bulky and tall, thinning blond hair with a shitload of stubble, maybe a week’s worth. The guy had a fat face, which puzzled Gus.
“What’s up with the foot?”
“Fell down some stairs.”
“In that house?”
“Yeah.”
“Anyone with you?”
“Yeah.” Scott’s face became set then, and Gus didn’t have to ask any other questions on the matter.
“Where we going?” Scott asked after a bit.
“Back to my place.” Gus looked out the side window. “You can’t do much like you are. You’re lucky. I thought you were one of them.”
“Yeah.”
Hearing the weariness in the man’s voice, Gus looked over at and saw Scott press his head against the headrest. Scott’s eyes opened and closed slowly, as if his system was being
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