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

vehicle behind her and its zombie driver, hissing with relentless hunger. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Chapter 13 - Dylan
Dylan opened the back door of the car a crack, gagging when a waft of putrid air hit her nostrils. “Holy shit, that’s rank.”
The thought of spending the night inside that vehicle with its stench of death and decay was enough to make her want to vomit, but another rustle of bushes spurred her on. She slipped inside and closed the door with a soft click. Through watery eyes, she scanned her surroundings. The incoming infected had yet to show themselves, but she knew they were there and could only pray they hadn’t seen her first.
The zombie trapped in the front seat was going nuts, twisting and turning as it tried to grab her with its claw-like hands. She couldn’t risk using the gun and pulled the kitchen knife from her belt instead. The same one she’d taken from Frankie’s house.
With one hand steadying her against the roof of the vehicle, Dylan stabbed the zombie through the eye, driving the blade deep into its skull. It stiffened for a second, before slumping into its seat with a final groan. Dead at last.
Dylan fell back as another wave of dizziness hit her, made worse by the awful smell, and she pressed one palm against the gash in her scalp. It bled profusely, dripping onto her clothes and running down her face. I have to stop the bleeding.
With trembling hands, she removed her jacket and shirt. The shirt had long sleeves which she cut off using the knife. Another piece from the hem formed a thick pad which she pressed to the wound. Hissing with pain, she wrapped the sleeves around her head and tied them off beneath her chin. It was the best she could manage under the circumstances.
With the last of her strength, she dry swallowed two painkillers from the bottle she’d tucked into her pocket earlier and lay back, closing her eyes. The darkness was calling to her, pulling her down into the abyss. With her jacket pulled over her head, she surrendered, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
From the roadside bushes, a figure emerged, dark and crooked. It was followed by several more, and they shuffled across the road toward the pile-up on uncertain legs. The smell of fresh blood lay thick in the air, tempting them with its promise of sustenance. They groaned with longing as they searched for their elusive prey, circling around and round the cars. Their shadows fell across the prone figure of Dylan, slumped in the backseat. Fingertips brushed the glass next to her face.
***
A bright shaft of sunlight cut through the slumber that had Dylan in its grip, and she blinked against the glare in her eyes. Her eyes were fuzzy, and her mouth as dry as bone. She worked her jaws and looked around. “What the hell? Where am I, and what’s that smell?”
She pushed herself upright only to fall back again with a cry. Her head throbbed, and the slightest move caused stabbing pains to shoot through her skull. “Man, that hurts. Mother effin hell, it hurts.”
A wave of nausea rolled over her like a freight train, and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. The corpse in the front seat mocked her with its lipless grin, and the smell of its decaying flesh coated her tongue like slime. She twisted to the side and hurled up the contents of her stomach, little though it was. The pain in her head intensified from the pressure, and she nearly blacked out again.
Dylan muffled a sob and curled into a ball, willing the agony away. After half an hour, it faded to a dull throb. Painful, but manageable. Barely.
She sat upright again, moving slowly this time. The sun was bright and sat high in the sky. At least, it wasn’t cold. She hated the cold. “That bitch, Maddie. If I get a hold of her, I’m going to strangle her scrawny neck.”
Then her eyes fell on her watch, and she gasped. “What’s the time?”
It was past eight in the morning already, and she swallowed hard as fear threatened to consume her. She’d lost nearly twelve hours passed out in the back seat of the car. Twelve hours! “I’ve got to get moving. Now.”
Dylan reached for the door handle, but reared back when a zombie smashed its face into the window. It swiped at the glass with furious rage, its teeth bared. Two more closed in, banging their fists against the windows, and the fragile material groaned beneath the force of their blows.
Panic set in, and she covered her head with her arms, screaming with helplessness and pain. Her brain refused to work, to function. She was no longer a thinking human being, but mere prey, trapped by a superior predator. “Go away!”
But the zombies didn’t go away. If anything, their efforts intensified. A tremor ran through her muscles, and Dylan realized she had to do something fast before she grew too weak. Loss of blood and dehydration had taken its toll, and it would only get worse the longer she waited.
Wiping away the tears, she pulled her gun from its holster. Seven bullets. That was all she had. “Better make it count then.”
Leaning over, she wound the window down a crack. When the infected thrust its face into the gap, she shot it through the head. It fell away, replaced seconds later by another. She repeated the procedure until all three zombies were down before allowing herself a moment of optimism. “Please tell me that’s the last of them.”
After a thorough examination of the outside area, it appeared it was. Still, she had to move before more were drawn by the gunshots. Not that she knew where they were coming from in the first place. A farm, maybe? Stranded cars? Who knew?
Getting out of the car took at least two tries. Her legs were wobbly, and the world spun like a