Rise of the Undead Box Set | Books 1-3 | Apocalypse Z

to concede defeat. Riding blind at night was not a good idea, so he holed up in an abandoned barn. That wasn’t so bad. He had food and water, after all, and managed to keep warm by building a small fire.
The next morning, he set off again after filling up his gas tank. He was convinced he’d be home soon, but fate had other plans. In Columbia, someone tried to steal his bike while he topped up on supplies. He’d been lucky to return in the nick of time, or he’d have lost his ride.
St. Louis was a war zone, and he barely escaped with his life. It was only the bike that saved him by allowing him to zip through small spaces, cut across parks, and jump pavements. Even worse, he lost both his jerry cans there and had to push ahead with only half a tank. Not long after that, the gas ran out, and he had to push the bike until he could scavenge more fuel from abandoned cars. That slowed him down considerably, and he spent the second night camped up in a tree — an experience he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
He’d seen a lot along the way too. Things he wished could be unseen. The collapse of law and order meant that the worst of the worst had free rein, and the ugly side of humanity was laid bare. Looting, raping, and murdering was common. Throw a couple of million zombies into the mix, and you had a full-blown apocalypse on your hands.
Alex sighed, returning his attention to the pile-up in front of him. It covered the entire road, offering no way through except for a small gap to the left that looked inviting. Easy.
Too easy.
“Ambush?” Alex wondered. It was possible. More than possible. Likely even.
One hand tapped restlessly against his leg as he considered his options. Turning back wasn’t possible, but neither did he want to get robbed, killed, or both.
“Do the unexpected. Take them by surprise,” he muttered, eyeing the right side of the road. It appeared to be impassable.
To a car, at least.
But not his bike.
Maybe, just maybe, he could cut through the trees and make his escape without triggering the trap that he was sure lay waiting ahead. He had guns, of course, but would rather avoid a firefight if he could.
With a curt nod to himself, Alex took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”
He closed the visor of his helmet and rode forward at a slow pace, angling toward the left side. The easy side. His heart hammered in his chest, and his mouth was dry. At any moment, he expected bullets to come flying his way. It took every bit of self-control he had not to turn around and race away. “Come on, Alex. You can do this. It’s for Amy, remember that.”
Alex kept the bike on course for as long as he could, keeping to an even speed. The pile-up grew closer and closer. His eyes roved across the smashed up vehicles and twisted steel. Still no movement. No sign of people.
At the last moment, he swerved away from the enticing opening on the left and raced toward the other side. He pushed the bike to the max, changing gears with lightning speed. He reached the far edge of the barricade and hit gravel where the tar ended. A sharp turn to the left nearly proved his undoing as the tires slid on the loose dirt. Stones flew in every direction, and he kicked out with one leg to regain his balance.
By some miracle, he managed to stay upright and shot forward. The going was rough with shrubs, trees, and clumps of grass clogging the way. Alex maneuvered as well as he could, swerving around tree trunks and dodging bushes as he forged ahead.
A spatter of gunfire sounded, and a bullet clipped a tree in front of him. It zinged off into the distance and confirmed his suspicions. Ambush.
More shots kicked up plumes of dirt around him, and he hunched down onto the bike to present a smaller target. A man reared up from behind a shrub holding a hammer and yelled, “Stop right there!”
Alex didn’t slow, nor did he turn away. Instead, he headed straight for the guy, passing right by him. At the same time, he kicked out with his right foot and landed a hard blow to the chest. The man dropped the hammer and fell as his breath left his lungs in a loud oof.
With a quick turn of the handlebars, Alex shot around the corner of the barrier and ramped over a slight rise in the ground. He hit the tar road with both tires, his knees braced for the impact.
A blonde woman wearing a startled expression jumped up from her crouched position. She leveled her pistol at him and pulled the trigger. Alex ducked, his entire body seizing up in expectation of a bullet hitting his flesh. Instead, the shot clipped the front fender. The bike wobbled from the force of the hit, and the back wheel began a sideward slide from which there was no return. “Shit!”
Alex fought to regain control but failed. At the last moment, he kicked off into the air, performing a flying leap straight at the woman. Her expression changed from startled to horrified, and she raised both hands to fend him off.
He hit her with incredible force, and they both went tumbling across the road. His arms and legs spun like a top until he came to a grinding halt. With a groan, he raised his head to look around. An experimental twitch of each limb showed him nothing was broken.
The woman hadn’t been quite as lucky. She’d hit a nearby car wreck and lay slumped against it like a rag doll. Her eyes were wide open and unseeing, her head bent at an unnatural angle.
“Broken neck,” Alex muttered, removing his helmet to allow for a clear field of vision.
Movement caught his eye, and