Zombie Chaos | Book 4 | Scout's Horror

Scout’s Horror
Zombie Chaos Book 4
by
D.L. Martone


Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Survive the Zombie Chaos
About the Authors
Acknowledgments


Copyright © 2020
D.L. Martone
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means (including photocopying, recording, scanning, information storage, retrieval systems, or otherwise) without written permission from the authors—except for brief quotations in a book review. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the authors’ imaginations and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, businesses, and individuals, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The authors have no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet websites referred to in this publication and do not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks, and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The authors, publishers, and publication are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book, and none of the companies or organizations referenced within its pages have endorsed the book.
For more information, visit the authors’ website: dlmartone.com


For our loving, supportive moms,
who, ironically, despise zombies and will likely never read this series


Chapter
1
“It’s been a funny sort of day, hasn’t it?” – Barbara, Shaun of the Dead (2004)
After a harrowing trip from Baton Rouge to southern Mississippi, our group had finally made it to Homochitto National Forest. I still sat behind the steering wheel; my wife, Clare, still occupied the passenger seat beside me; and our seven-year-old tabby, Azazel, still lay curled up inside the carrier on her mama’s lap.
As far as I knew, my mother-in-law, Jill, was still resting on the sofa behind me. Hard to tell, though, since she was unusually quiet—which, frankly, unnerved me, given the undead infection spreading within her.
The two-lane roadway sliced through the darkened pine trees, barely illuminated by my headlights—and those of the station wagon following us. Back in Baton Rouge, we’d added two more travelers to our Michigan-bound escape plan: a badass woman named George and her teenage son, Casey. Though I often had trouble trusting anyone but Clare and my two older brothers, I was grateful for the presence of our two new friends—especially given the batshit-crazy world where we’d found ourselves.
In the short time we’d been traversing the Deep South together, we’d already encountered a slew of horrors and atrocities—not the least of which had entailed a colorful VW Beetle careening towards us, driven by a terrified woman who, thanks to her three zombified tagalongs, had eventually crashed into a tree and set the whole grotesque show aflame.
In fact, that horrendous sight had only happened a couple minutes earlier. Clare and I were still reeling from the awful images… when yet another roadblock halted our northward progress.
“This shit just gets better and better,” I grumbled, bringing the step van to an abrupt stop.
Luckily, George had the wherewithal to brake before plowing into my rear bumper. Without a word via the walkie-talkie I’d lent her, she pulled the battle wagon alongside me and kept her eyes on the scene in front of us.
Both sets of headlights shone on a narrow bridge, which spanned a ten-foot-wide creek. But the bridge wasn’t the problem. No, that honor belonged to the VW Bus that stood between us and the waterway—a Bus, incidentally, containing a handful of squirming, moaning zombies. Naturally, the vehicle couldn’t have blocked just one lane. With our spotty luck, it had to be parked sideways, cutting off the entire bridge.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again… fan-fucking-tastic.
As far as I could figure, I only had two viable options: back up and seek out another way across the creek… or try to remove the zombie-filled obstacle from our path. The first choice could add a lot of unnecessary miles and time to our trip—a less-than-stellar idea when my sleep-deprived self hoped to call it a night soon—but worse, the second possibility could get me killed, particularly if there were other undead hippies in the vicinity.
While juggling such problematic decisions, I heard shuffling footsteps behind me. Assuming my mother-in-law had finally morphed into a zombie and opted to make me her first meal, I jerked my head around—only to spy her typically annoyed face looming in the shadows.
Not a zombie yet. Good thing, cuz I’m too fucking exhausted to fend her off.
She frowned. “What now, dummy?”
Jill had merely poked her head up front to offer her usual encouragement.
Her gaze shifted forward, where the blood-smeared windows of the VW Bus and the uncoordinated movements of its passengers were a dead giveaway (no pun intended) of our dilemma. Foolishly, I expected her to back off after recognizing the problem, but instead, she merely dished out more flack.
“Smart move, heading into the forest.” She sighed dramatically. “Bet another great idea’s coming, I can feel it.”
My blood pressure spiked, and despite the ever-present fatigue, a ball of anger rocketed from my gut. “Jill, I swear—”
“Mom, please. Just go sit back down,” Clare said, coming to her mother’s rescue.
My wife knew me well enough to suspect that I was mere seconds away from kicking Jill out of the van and letting the zombies chase her through the trees.
“You need to rest,” Clare added more tenderly. “And we need a minute to figure this out.”
After a few seconds, Jill nodded and shuffled back to her makeshift bed. While