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    Zombie Survival: #5 in the Tom Zombie Series
    Zombie Survival: #5 in the Tom Zombie Series
    Zombie Survival: #5 in the Tom Zombie Series
    Ebook97 pages1 hour

    Zombie Survival: #5 in the Tom Zombie Series

    By H.D. Timmons

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    About this ebook

    The world has been decimated by the living dead that were created by a government too arrogant to adequately contain them. The only thing Tom Dexter and the remainder of the living can do is try to survive. But, in a world overrun by zombies, there’s more than just zombies to fear.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherH.D. Timmons
    Release dateMay 3, 2018
    ISBN9780463257609
    Zombie Survival: #5 in the Tom Zombie Series
    Author

    H.D. Timmons

    H.D. Timmons is the author of The Tale of Tom Zombie ebook series, the short suspense ebook and audiobook Savage, as well as other ebook fiction short stories. He has also had articles published in Adoption Today Magazine, RetailerNOW Magazine, and New Focus Daily Magazine. Mr. Timmons was born in Brooklyn, NY and is currently a Creative Director living in Kernersville, NC.

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      Book preview

      Zombie Survival - H.D. Timmons

      Zombie Survival

      #5 in the Tom Zombie Series

      By H.D. Timmons

      Copyright © 2018 by H.D. Timmons

      Smashwords Edition

      Prologue

      The living population of Bowling Green, Missouri had been reduced to a scant handful. The Gant brothers never thought they’d willingly want to stay in prison, but stranger things have happened.

      Northeast Correctional Center transformed from their prison to their fortress, and they defended it, even against survivors. An entire arsenal of firearms and ammunition was at their disposal, and they’d be damned if they’d let anyone take that away.

      For Darren Gant and his younger brothers, James and Dennis, life was simply made up of the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’. And the Gant brothers were going to make sure they were the ‘haves’.

      The brothers would each draw straws to see who would go into town for supplies each month. The youngest, Dennis, would be constantly frustrated by how often he drew the short straw. Even though Dennis’s older brothers rigged the draw, Darren would sometimes take pity and force James to go into Bowling Green with Dennis.

      The Walmart Supercenter wasn’t nearly as picked through as one would think a year after the zombie outbreak. Most people had died, got bitten and turned, or simply fled, leaving a decent supply on the shelves.

      Someone had scattered fliers down Bowling Green’s main drag. Fliers promising a new beginning in a refuge out in Colorado. Beneath a photo of Cheyenne Mountain, were the words in bold lettering: Survivor’s Sanctuary: where humanity can begin again.

      Other towns were probably littered with similar fliers, but the Gant brothers were just fine riding out the apocalypse in Bowling Green. Their logic was that when the world finally got back to normal, they would be running their town. Nothing could happen without their say so.

      From the start, they had shed their prison jumpsuits in exchange for law enforcement uniforms which gave them the edge of superiority they needed should they ever encounter other survivors wandering through town.

      Whenever James went with Dennis, dispatching zombies during a supply run became a sport. James almost seemed to go out of his way to attract zombies to their location only to get in some target practice.

      A slow slapping sound echoing through the aisles of Walmart caused James to peer down each nearby aisle searching for the source. Flip-flop, flip-flop. It was getting closer. No... wait. Further. James couldn’t be sure now. He told Dennis to stop pushing the squeaky-wheeled shopping cart for a second so he could hear better. Then, he spotted something rounding the sporting goods department.

      It was December, and the rancid-looking zombie was still dressed for summer, in shorts, tank-top and flip flops. It sniffed the air picking up the scent of the two brothers and ambled quicker down the main aisle toward them. Flip-flop, flip-flop, flip-flop.

      James stepped into the center of the wide aisle and drew the Smith and Wesson revolver from his holster like he was in the old west. KA-BLAM! From fifty yards, the bullet struck the zombie in the throat. His second shot—the kill shot—found the center of its forehead. Before the creature collapsed to the floor, James unloaded his six-shooter into its torso and twirled the weapon in his hand with a gunslinger’s flourish.

      Dennis slapped his cap across his brother’s shoulder. Damn! Stop wastin’ ammo. You killed it already. What’s the matter with you?

      James holstered his gun and glared down the aisle at the bloody heap. I fuckin’ hate flip-flops.

      Part 1

      Dashing through the brittle winter grass, Sasha and Willie scrambled for a hiding place. At the tender age of nine, Sasha had come to understand the importance of being a leader in the new world that had developed over the past year and a half and sought to guide her younger brother to safety.

      Saying a new world had ‘developed’ was an understatement. It seemed more of an evolutionary track as the zombie population quickly outnumbered the nearly decimated unaffected humans.

      All technology and communication that had been taken for granted for so long, suddenly halted. No one was at the helm anymore, in control of the great master switch that seemed to keep the world in motion.

      Owwww! You’re hurting my arm. Willie whined. Stop pulling so hard, Sasha!

      Sasha swatted at her brother’s head, grazing his close-cropped afro. Do you want to fall in? she said, pointing to one of several covered pits at the edge of their property.

      No, Willie said with a huff of embarrassment mixed with stubbornness, rubbing his head. But you’re hurting me.

      Quiet. He’ll hear you. Now, let’s keep going. She said, tugging her brother into the thicket beyond their property.

      Sasha tried often to impart some of the survival logic her father had taught her, but seven-year-old Willie was still cemented in his impetuous youth—impatient and self-absorbed, born of twenty first century American culture.

      The wreckage of a Douglas Skytrooper C-17 plane, strewn in the woods near their rural Missouri community, was where Sasha instinctively fled. She and her brother had played there many times, exploring the debris as if it were a crashed alien spacecraft.

      Sasha led Willie to a burrow dug under the fuselage and shoved him firmly to the ground.

      Hey, you’re being rough, Willie complained.

      Shhhhh. Just get down there. I’m right behind you.

      Concealed by the dry, viny overgrowth surrounding the wreckage, the two tucked themselves away and waited, hoping to have evaded their pursuer.

      Presently, they could hear slow movement crunching through the crisp leaves on the ground. As Sasha peeked out of the burrow, Willie closed his eyes tightly, hoping in vain that it would hide him more.

      Sasha could see a figure come into view, its footsteps were slow and deliberate. Although she could only see him from behind, she recognized the tattered coat. She could hear her brother’s nervous breathing grow into panting and cupped her hand over his mouth to protect their position.

      Willie gave a muffled groan against his sister’s palm as she abruptly stifled his breathing. That noise was all it took. The man in the woods grunted and turned slowly, then crouched to peer through the lifeless winter weeds to beneath the fuselage.

      Gotcha! The man said with a playfully victorious laugh.

      Awww, dad. No fair. You cheated, Sasha declared, crawling out of the burrow, stomping her foot in annoyance.

      I didn’t cheat. I tracked you fair and square. Ain’t that right, Willie? Reverend Hamilton Burke smiled broadly to his son, prompting Willie to run and jump into his father’s arms, giggling with childish glee. Sasha was unamused.

      Sasha, if dad was a zombie he’da eaten you up! Willie tossed his head back with laughter.

      Yeah, well, he’d have eaten you too, dummy, Sasha reminded her brother.

      Hey now. No name callin’, Hamilton warned. That’s enough practice for one day. Your mamma’s waitin’ for us. We’d better be gettin’ back.

      Hamilton swung his son up onto his shoulders to carry him; the stretch opened wider

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