Respect for the Dead (Surviving the Dead Book 1) by Shawn McLain Page B
Authors: Shawn McLain
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mighty lurch it crushed his spine and sped off.
The gate to the lot was already off its hinges, the guard shack was empty. The building across the road was sending flames fifty feet high into the air. Several flaming people were stumbling out of the burning building as Steve sped past. A couple made a feeble attempt to grab at the car.
“What the hell? What the FUCK! They should have been dead!” Steve screamed and pounded the wheel. “You should all be dead!” He yelled to a flaming man missing his lower jaw.
Steve returned to searching his jacket for his phone. The engine revved high and he fumbled with the phone dialing his house. Pressing the phone to his ear with his shoulder he shifted gears. “All circuits are currently busy. Please try your call again later” Was the phones reply.
Fear bubbled up in his stomach. He tried his father’s cell. It was the same taunting response. Panic was rising, he tried his sister. Still the computer voice mocked his growing terror. “LET ME TALK TO SOMEONE, BITCH!” He screamed, the phone flew onto the passenger seat.
WABAM! A dark color flew over the hood of the beautifully maintained sports car and out of Steve’s view. He had been so distracted with his phone that he had stopped paying attention the road.
Smoke billowed from the wheels as he slammed on the breaks and jerked the wheel. The gleaming car skidded to a halt in the middle of the empty road. Heart beating in his throat he looked out of the window. The sight that met his eyes was the mangled remains of what only moments before had been a man.
Steve was glued to the vision of the broken body lying in the street. One leg was twisted backward and up, the foot lying next to the head. The left arm was pinned under the body, the other flung out to the side. As Steve tried to slow his panicked breathing the body on the road raised its head and moaned at him. Steve looked past the crumpled body down the street. The road was filling with shambling dead. They were shuffling to the car as if answering the moan.
Steve swore, pushed in the clutch, slammed the car in gear and sped down the road toward his home. He prayed that the man he just hit had been dead before he had shattered him. That thought nagged at him and pushed his foot harder on the gas pedal.
Dragons
Wes stood with his hand on the knob listening to the silence in the house interrupted by the noises coming from outside. Through the closed window seeped sirens and yelling. Whatever was happening was close. This didn’t bother him, the lack of coughing did. “Reg must have fallen asleep.” He tried to convince himself, but another little voice said, “so suddenly?” Shaking the thought, he opened the door.
“Reg? Reg? Reggie!” Wes could feel the panic in his mother’s voice.
Hurrying out of his room, Wes flung himself down the short stairway then down the hall. His mother began screaming urging him faster into the living room. Wes skidded to a halt on the beige carpet of the living room. His mother was screaming but he couldn’t make a sound. The scene that met his eyes stole his breath and froze his limbs.
Reggie was on his feet, blood covered his face and his hands clung to Wes’s mother by the upper arms. Even from where he stood Wes could see the fingers starting to break the skin, blood starting to run down her arms. She was struggling to free herself from his steel grasp. The wound on her neck was gushing blood, soaking the skin of her neck and shirt.
Wes could see she was fighting for her life, something she had done many times with his father, but never with Reg. She was hitting her husband with everything she had. She kicked him in the shins, stomped his feet, kneed him in the groin and clawed his eyes, nothing even phased him. Wes stared, frozen in terror and shaking with anger as he watched the scene.
“This
The gate to the lot was already off its hinges, the guard shack was empty. The building across the road was sending flames fifty feet high into the air. Several flaming people were stumbling out of the burning building as Steve sped past. A couple made a feeble attempt to grab at the car.
“What the hell? What the FUCK! They should have been dead!” Steve screamed and pounded the wheel. “You should all be dead!” He yelled to a flaming man missing his lower jaw.
Steve returned to searching his jacket for his phone. The engine revved high and he fumbled with the phone dialing his house. Pressing the phone to his ear with his shoulder he shifted gears. “All circuits are currently busy. Please try your call again later” Was the phones reply.
Fear bubbled up in his stomach. He tried his father’s cell. It was the same taunting response. Panic was rising, he tried his sister. Still the computer voice mocked his growing terror. “LET ME TALK TO SOMEONE, BITCH!” He screamed, the phone flew onto the passenger seat.
WABAM! A dark color flew over the hood of the beautifully maintained sports car and out of Steve’s view. He had been so distracted with his phone that he had stopped paying attention the road.
Smoke billowed from the wheels as he slammed on the breaks and jerked the wheel. The gleaming car skidded to a halt in the middle of the empty road. Heart beating in his throat he looked out of the window. The sight that met his eyes was the mangled remains of what only moments before had been a man.
Steve was glued to the vision of the broken body lying in the street. One leg was twisted backward and up, the foot lying next to the head. The left arm was pinned under the body, the other flung out to the side. As Steve tried to slow his panicked breathing the body on the road raised its head and moaned at him. Steve looked past the crumpled body down the street. The road was filling with shambling dead. They were shuffling to the car as if answering the moan.
Steve swore, pushed in the clutch, slammed the car in gear and sped down the road toward his home. He prayed that the man he just hit had been dead before he had shattered him. That thought nagged at him and pushed his foot harder on the gas pedal.
Dragons
Wes stood with his hand on the knob listening to the silence in the house interrupted by the noises coming from outside. Through the closed window seeped sirens and yelling. Whatever was happening was close. This didn’t bother him, the lack of coughing did. “Reg must have fallen asleep.” He tried to convince himself, but another little voice said, “so suddenly?” Shaking the thought, he opened the door.
“Reg? Reg? Reggie!” Wes could feel the panic in his mother’s voice.
Hurrying out of his room, Wes flung himself down the short stairway then down the hall. His mother began screaming urging him faster into the living room. Wes skidded to a halt on the beige carpet of the living room. His mother was screaming but he couldn’t make a sound. The scene that met his eyes stole his breath and froze his limbs.
Reggie was on his feet, blood covered his face and his hands clung to Wes’s mother by the upper arms. Even from where he stood Wes could see the fingers starting to break the skin, blood starting to run down her arms. She was struggling to free herself from his steel grasp. The wound on her neck was gushing blood, soaking the skin of her neck and shirt.
Wes could see she was fighting for her life, something she had done many times with his father, but never with Reg. She was hitting her husband with everything she had. She kicked him in the shins, stomped his feet, kneed him in the groin and clawed his eyes, nothing even phased him. Wes stared, frozen in terror and shaking with anger as he watched the scene.
“This
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