Z-Risen (Book 3): Poisoned Earth by Timothy W. Long

bored, because she sat down and scratched her neck for a few seconds, and then galloped back to me. I rubbed her head and assured her she was a dyed in the wool killer.
    We moved gear into the house, just enough for the night, and set up camp in the middle of the kitchen. The entryway was open, but there was only one window. Joel and I cut off a big chunk of carpet and wedged it over the portal. No sense in advertising that we had taken up occupancy.
    I checked the faucet over the sink, but no water came out. I found the valves and twisted the cold lever all the way to the right. To my surprise, water gurgled up the tubes. It came out in a trickle, but Christy was quick and got a bucket under the stream until it ran out. We got about two gallons. I tasted it and found it stale, but grabbed a mug from our belongings and gulped it down.
    “Don’t want to clean it first?” Roz asked.
    “It just tastes like pipes. Water’s been sitting there but it’s clean,” I said.
    Christy didn’t look convinced, and told us she’d take it out to the camper and run it through our filtering system.
    “Take Frosty,” I said. She nodded and ducked out of the house.
    “It’s good to stretch out,” Joel said.
    “Yeah. Good to get some life back in our legs,” Roz nodded.
    Joel caught her looking at him and gave a small nod. He rose and together they went to “investigate” the house.
    Anna pulled a sleeping bag out of her pack and rolled it out flat. She crawled inside and zipped it up.
    “Room for me in there?” I winked.
    “Sorry. I’m running a fever and everything makes my skin crawl right now. Nothing personal, Creed,” she said.
    I nodded and took out the burner and a couple of cans of stew. Might as well eat our precious supplies while we had the opportunity. Tomorrow we’d arrive at the Marine base, if we weren’t ambushed by shufflers, devoured by fucking zombies, or killed by marauders--or if we didn't succumb to some stupid disease that was out to do us in. That’s what our lives had come to: running from all of the things that wanted to do us harm.
    “I’m going to see if there’s enough water for a good flush in the bathroom,” I said.
    “Great, Creed. If not, nail the door shut when you’re done,” Anna said.
     
    ###

20:40 hours approximate
    Location: Just outside of Oceanside
     
    We gathered in the tiny room and made a decent dinner: stew, canned beans, a can of creamed corn, and a few crackers. Anna said she was feeling better, so I sat next to her and tried to cheer her up with dumb stories of being young and overseas. I got the occasional half-smile out of her, but she wasn’t really paying attention to me.
    Roz and Joel rolled out sleeping mats and piled on a few blankets. Christy wrote in a journal--something she’d seen me do every day, and something I’d encouraged.
    Frosty rolled on her back and growled. Her tail swished back and forth while her tongue lolled out. She wanted to play, and nipped at my hand a few times while I rubbed her chest.
    “Anyone want to play spades?” I asked.
    Christy shook her head and went back to writing. Joel and Roz looked at each other, then shook their heads as well.
    “Can’t play with just two people,” I said to myself.
    “Play with yourself,” Anna suggested.
    I cracked a smile.
    Christy and I played a few hands of high stakes five-card poker and I ended up owing her six million dollars. Just my luck. Last week she'd owed me fifteen million, give or take.
    I know a lot of people probably love the quiet. I don’t. I was used to the noise of the engine room, the hum of the pipes, steam, and the exhaust fans that blew air around the ship. I slept like a goddamn baby when I was out at sea. When I stayed in town I needed a fan cranked up to high just to doze off.
    Out in Z land, I was lucky if I got more than four consecutive hours' worth of sleep. I was always on guard, and the quiet didn’t help. Every time someone moved or sniffed or snored or