The Dead Rise (Book 1): Zombies and Chainsaws by Mike Evans Page A

the sheriff was driving straight toward it was more than he could handle. He walked back up the hill stopping halfway to bend over and contemplated puking. He hadn't run this far since high school. Not sports, of course, but when he'd been caught with his pants down when a farmer's daughter had insisted that her dad would be out in the fields all day. She had been wrong of course and Matt had barely escaped with his life running into a cornfield sprinting for his life. When he got to the top of the hill he realized the number of people that he had guessed would be in the cemetery had been drastically underestimated. He watched what looked like a sea of the undead. Each step was one closer to the end of someone else he knew. He saw a pile of the dead gathered around the sheriff's car and knew there was nothing that could be done.
    He turned keeping as much distance between himself and the dead as he could. He knew that the shuffler would never catch up with him, but he wondered at the same time if the shufflers would ever tire of their pursuit. Matt didn't know and didn't want to be chased forever to find out. The first thing which ran through his mind was the idea that he would get back to the factory where his truck was parked and take the money from Phelps and drive through the night until he was somewhere far, far away from the town. He couldn't imagine running into one of these things in the middle of the night. He only hoped that people would be safe. He'd thought about that meeting over and over again and wished he had just pushed that envelope back across the table telling Phelps to stick that bonus up his bony ass.

 
    Chapter Eight
    New Arrivals
     
    Half Hour later outside of Denny’s Tap
     
     Pete and Roger sat outside of the bar watching all of the regulars walking to their cars. The women they prayed might look over their shoulders at them disappeared down streets or into cars driving away. The men watched the lights of the cars disappear into the distance. Pete looked at the van as did Roger.
    Roger said, "You know if we drive that after telling Jude we were shit faced he is going to royally kick our asses, I think we got only one choice here, buddy."
     Pete said, “Yeah what is that Roger?”
     “We need to walk brother, I hate to say it, hell it’s almost like exercise, God knows I don’t need any of that,” he patted his gut which jiggled a bit at the slap, “We only got a mile or two and hell I want to say that over half of it is downhill.”
     Pete pushed up patting his chest for a pack of smokes and was let down when there was nothing to be felt; he'd smoked the entire pack while sitting at the bar.
    He said, "You realize this town is flat don't you Roger?"
     Roger nodded and Pete continued, “Then there aren’t any hills in the town to walk down you dip shit. Tell you what, you give me one or five smokes to get me back to the damn motel and we will call it good.”
     Roger handed him the first and the two staggered to their feet starting a very slow but determined walk back to the motel. Neither man was one hundred percent sure when they were going to get back to the motel but figured with a town this size it wouldn’t take all that long and eventually they’d find their way back home. They headed there staggering up and down streets. The luck of the Irish must have been on their side because with each passing street the fact that they hadn't run into the dead which were slowly filling the town was a miracle.
    ****
     Chuck walked slowly not in any hurry to get back to the motel. He made a turn heading north figuring if Jude wasn’t done by the time he got there that maybe Pete and Roger might allow him to crash on their floor. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he had to sleep outside for the night, the thought of a million mosquito bites to wake up to wasn’t something that made him overly excited. He turned a street and stopped not walking a step further. He didn't know