The Deadland Chronicles (Book 2): The Undead Horde

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The Deadland Chronicles (Book 2): The Undead Horde Page 23

by Spears, R. J.


  “But I ended up turning my back on my men. And some of them died because of me. One at my hands. There’s no washing that blood off, but I have to do what I can to make up for it.”

  She reached out and put a hand on his arm and held it there. “Nate, I know you can’t see it now, but you are a good man.” She stared directly into his eyes and added, “You are. You need to know that. You did the right thing, and I’m heart sick at the way you’ve beat yourself up about it. Please, for your sake, let it go. Let it go.”

  He opened his mouth to object but chose silence instead.

  She let her hand fall free from his arm, wondering if she’d ever see him again. There was a familiar ache in her chest that made her think of her son, who was somewhere out west. If he was even still alive. She hoped he was because the alternative was too heartbreaking. All she knew was that she was absolutely damned tired of losing people she cared about in this dark and unforgiving world.

  Chapter 39

  The Undead Horde

  They blotted out everything on the ground, filling the horizon in each direction, shambling forward in a mindless fashion, not really knowing why they did what they did but only doing it. Coming over the crest of the hill, they looked like a flowing dark mass of death. Some deep down insatiable hunger drove them on. There was nothing else, only the hunger.

  They had closed the gap down to about a quarter of a mile, urged on by the humans scrambling around the road ahead of them. The ones at the front of the group may have grunted in some form of excitement.

  The humans ahead might have looked like ants scrambling this way and that. Had the undead creatures retained any of their human intelligence, they would have recognized the panic in the people running about ahead of them. They might have made sense of the big truck being rolled up next to the tractor and having its tank filled with gas. Had they had any smarts, there was a chance that they would realize that they would be too late catch up to the panicked humans

  But the undead had none of their past human intelligence. It had been burned out of their heads by the virus that had transformed them from the once vibrant walking and talking human beings that they had been into shambling, stinking, eating machines, no more intelligent than a shrew.

  The undead horde plodded along, swarming over the landscape in the west. They watched as the people climbed into the truck. They witnessed a dark vehicle drive away on its own. They looked on as other vehicles lined up in a row and started off, heading east.

  They felt no disappointment as the vehicles disappeared on the road ahead. It did not matter to them in the least. Time was inconsequential to them. They simply existed to eat, and they would keep after the humans crossing the world until they ran out of land to trudge across. Then they would turn back around when they reached the water’s edge and cross the country again.

  The one true thing about the zombies was that they would never stop.

  * * *

  Author’s Note: It is my steadfast desire that you enjoyed this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did like it, please consider leaving a review. Reviews are the lifeblood of the indie writer.

  If you’re interested in more of my books, check out the list of books at the beginning of this book.

 

 

 


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