Zombies Ever After: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 6 by E.E. Isherwood

want to stay away from them ,” he nodded
menacingly to the black families on the low hill. They were between
him and his destination.
    “Um, why is that?”
    He cackled. “You nuts? They caused this disease. You touch
them. You die.”
    He was positively sure that was false, but not surprised rumors
like that existed. The man didn't look like he was in the mood for
debate.
    “Oh, thanks.” He started to walk off.
    “Hey now. Just a minute. There's a fee for good advice.”
    Liam knew how this was going to go down. In one explosive action,
he launched into a sprint. He aimed for a nearby group of
people—color was unimportant—and had to excuse himself as
he deflected off the arm of a standing woman. There was another creek
behind them, so he had to readjust to his right, toward another group
of campers a couple of dozen yards away.
    The young guy was in pursuit, and though Liam seemed to have
surprised him initially, he was taller, and by appearances, faster,
than him. He was also cutting off some of the gap by angling toward
where Liam was running.
    To compensate, Liam turned and jumped into the creek. It was
actually hip-deep there, so it took him many seconds to get across.
He heard a splash behind as he got up to speed on the far side.
Frantic for somewhere to go, he searched for a police car or other
sign of authority.
    I could use the scissors on him.
    He laughed inwardly. Scissors would be more effective on a living
person than a zombie, but it would be a weapon of very last resort.
He'd long since lost the ability to get the drop on the guy.
    There were a lot of people now, sitting and standing in small
groups within the park, and many were angry at him for running
through their space. The only consolation was complaints from those
same people when the greasy guy went through.
    Inspiration struck. He turned right, heading north.
    His only real scare came when a burly guy tried to grab him. He
figured a casual observer might think he was running from the law—or
what passed for it in the park—and had tried to make a
citizen's arrest. The guy managed to get a hand on his jacket, but he
spun and let it slide off. It took real skill to keep the shotgun in
his hands while he pulled that maneuver, but he managed. When the man
saw the gun, he put up his own hands in a “Sorry, bro”
gesture. Liam let the jacket drop.
    Finally, he ran up the small hill he'd seen while taking his bath.
As expected, the young fellow refused to pursue him, and instead
stayed well behind while flinging insulting names and dire warnings
about their next meeting.
    He felt bad for using the black people as his shield, and he hoped
his actions wouldn't get them in trouble in some way, so he kept
running through their area, though with more care so as not to stir
any resentments. If he managed to piss them off, he'd be out of
places to run for help.
    All I want is to find Victoria. Is that too much to ask?
    6
    Next, he stopped at Hans Grubmeyer's mansion to get ammo for his
street sweeper. By an agreement between the old man and the Patriot
Snowball movement, he'd consented to let them—
    Am I “them”?
    —use the supplies in his home in exchange for allowing him
to call his people to deliver the Tiger tanks to him. Something they
never did...
    He decided to go in through the back door. Unsure if it would
attract attention to himself, it seemed the stealthiest way to enter.
The threat of the greasy runner kept him in the proverbial shadows.
    Plus, he realized all the ammo was stacked on the back porch. He
searched the pallets of boxes until he found a huge tower of shotgun
shells. With much effort, he tore the wrapping and a paper box so he
could grab a few shells. The first two went in his gun; the rest he
stuffed in his jeans pockets until they bulged like chipmunk cheeks.
    He walked in through the back door, expecting to find one of the
Polar Bears. They were supposed to be guarding the place.
    “Hello?” he called. Then,