Life After The Undead (Book 2): Death to the Undead

DEATH
TO
THE
UNDEAD

By
Pembroke
Sinclair

Copyright 2011, 2016 Pembroke Sinclair

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

Attribution
— You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

Noncommercial
— You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

No Derivative Works
— You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

Inquiries about additional permissions should be directed to: [email protected]

Cover Design by Greg Simanson

Previously published as
Death to the Undead
, Etreasures Publishing, 2011, Booktrope, 2016

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

ISBN-13: 978-1533258274

ISBN-10: 1533258279

To the fans of
Life After the Undead
.  Thanks for reading.

Now get ready for an adventure!

Special thanks to Pam for always believing in me and going on this incredible adventure we call publishing!

A
huge
thank you to Greg Simanson for the amazing covers.  Your skill and artistry makes me look good.

CHAPTER
1

“Rome
wasn’t
built in a
day.”

God,
I
can’t
tell
you
how many
times
I’ve
heard
that
cliché.
Dad
was
particularly
fond
of
it
when
I
had
issues
with homework
or
a
dilemma
in
my
personal
life.
I
knew
what
his
point
was.
He
was telling
me
to
be
patient,
to let
things
progress
the
way
they
were
supposed to.
But,
I
wasn’t
good
at
that.
I
never
had
a
lot of
patience.
I
imagined
my
Dad
reiterating
the
cliché
after
the
North
Platte
takeover,
wondering
what
he
would think of
what
I’d
done.
What
we’d
done.
We
liberated
Nebraska,
but we
still
had
a long
road
ahead
of
us.
I
knew
Rome
wasn’t
built in a
day,
but
I
was
pretty
sure the
zombies
could
destroy
it in
one.

I
stood in the
guard
tower, overlooking
the
field.
My
body
pressed
against
the
railing. Corpses
still
littered
the
ground,
but there
weren’t
as
many
as
when
I
first
came to
North
Platte.
The crews
had
done
a
great
job of
cleaning
up,
though
there
was
little they
could
do
about
the
atrocious
smell.

The
sun sank
beneath
the
horizon,
casting
hues
of
orange,
pink, and purple onto the
silhouettes
of the
undead.
A bullet
was
chambered
into a
gun
behind
me.
Quinn
had
been
sitting
in
a
chair
behind me
in the
tower
the
whole
time.

“Quinn,
what
happened
to
your
parents?” I
turned
so
I
faced
him.

Quinn
rested
the
butt
of
his
gun
on the
deck
and
wrapped
his arms
around
the
barrel.
He
sighed.
“My
mom died
about
seven
years
ago
from
cancer.
I
don’t
know
what
happened
to
my
dad.”

I
furrowed
my
brow. “What
do
you
mean?”

“Well,
when
we
heard about the
first
zombie
attacks,
Dad
wanted
to help. Most of the
neighbors
lived
within a
few
miles,
so it didn’t take
too long
for him to move
them
onto the
ranch.
One
morning, he
and
a
few of
the
others
decided
to venture
a
little
farther,
see
who else
might
need
some
help,
and he
never
came
back.”

My
stomach
felt
queasy.
I
averted
my
gaze
to the
floor,
then
glanced
back
at
Quinn.
“Did
you
go
look for
him?”

Quinn shook his
head.
“He
told me not to. He
said
no matter
what
happens,
I
was
to
stay
at
the
ranch
and
take
care
of the
people.”

“Yeah,
but
you
must have
been
curious
what
happened
to him.”

Quinn
nodded
and
stood
from
his
chair.
“Of
course,
but
I
did as
I
was
told.”
He
shouldered
the
rifle
and
lined
up his
sights.
He
fired.

I
moved so
I
stood next
to
him.
“Do
you
think he’s
out
there
somewhere?”

Quinn
glanced
at
me. “Probably. But
I
doubt he’s
anything
like
I
remember.”

“Doesn’t
that make
you
sad?”

He
returned
his
attention
to the
sight.
“Every
day.
But
there’s
nothing I
can
do to
change
it now.”
He
fired
another
round.

I
slumped
against
the rail.
Tears
welled
up in
my
eyes,
and
I
averted
my
gaze
back
to the
field.
I
rubbed
my
sore
shoulder.
A
breeze
picked up, bringing
a
chill
and
the smoke
from
the
funeral
pyre. I
wrinkled
my
nose.

“We
need
to do something
about
that.”

Quinn
straightened.
“Like
what?”

I
shrugged
the
good
shoulder. “I
don’t
know.
Maybe
we
could
put a
building around
it.
It
might
help contain
some of
the smoke
and
smell.”

Quinn
nodded. “You
should
suggest
it at the next
meeting.”

I
opened
my
mouth to
speak,
but the
sound of
footsteps on the
stairs
interrupted
me.
It
was
Pam.
She
still
wore her
old
guard
uniform, a
relic
from
Liet’s
reign,
but it
was
obvious whose
side she
was
on.
Thank
goodness
she
was
on our
side. She
trained
me;
I
knew
how
tough
and
skilled
she
was.
It
would’ve
been
a
battle
to
take her
down.

“Krista,” Pam
said.
“There’s
someone
who
needs
to
see
you.”

I
pushed
myself
away
from the
rail.
“Who?”

Pam
motioned
toward
the
courthouse.
“I
think it’s
best
if
you
just
head
over
there.”

I
looked
at
Quinn, who shrugged, then the
three
of
us
headed
to the
courthouse.

My
stomach
fluttered
as
I
pushed
opened
the
door.
Visions of
Mrs.
Johnson’s
bodyguard
flooded
my
mind,
and
I
didn’t think
I
could
stand
another
visit like
that.
I
held
my
breath
as
I
stepped into the room
.
The
person
stood
at
the
end
of
the
room,
her
head
down
as
she
chewed on
her
thumb
nail.
Excitement
rose
in
my
chest and
relief
loosened
my
shoulders. A smile
crossed
my
lips. I
held
out
my
good
arm
and
hurried across the
room. Normally,
I
wasn’t
one
for
hugs,
but
anyone besides
guards
from
Florida
in the
office
was
a
welcome
relief.