Even Zombie Killers Can Die

Начало книги

It never fails.

Specialist Redshirt felt the rumbling in his guts, about ten minutes after he had eaten his lunch MRE. Could be the water, could be the food itself. Good water and unspoiled food were getting hard to come by, almost three years after the Zombie Apocalypse had pretty much trounced Western Civilization.

The rest of the team sat finishing their meal. Doc and Ziv picked idly at their MREs, the summer heat making it hard to eat. Red was standing watch, along with Ahmed, but he had to go. He motioned to Sergeant Toshi, who was stretching her legs.

“Sarge, I gotta hit the treeline. Take over for me.”

She grunted and climbed to her feet, tossing her rucksack onto her back and shouldering her rifle. Beside her, the big Swedish guy, Svenson, levered himself up off the ground. No one went anywhere alone.

They were taking a break in small clearing, just off the remains of Route 9, north of Ticonderoga. To the east, Lake Champlain stretched out, a broad sheet of water reflecting the summer sun. Their canoes lay drawn up on the shore where they had stopped at sunrise. The team was heading north to see what remained of the Air National Guard unit at Burlington Airport, and then to check the locks at the end of the lake where the Richelieu River wound its way down to the Saint Lawrence. They had stopped for the day just north of Port Henry on the New York side of the river.

Читать дальше →