Dead Alive Trilogy (Book 2)- Cursed Resurrection

Walking Death

Ryan sat up slowly, aching the whole way. He took a mental note that deer blinds were not ment for sleeping in. He twisted and turned his head to crack his neck and loosen it. He cracked his knuckles and toes. He twisted his feet curled into a fetal position and rolled to the base of the neck where it meets the shoulders. Loud pops of gas escaping from his back satisified him. He left the deer blind and stood up to stretch. This made him feel so much better, but still he was aching a little.

A sharp, loud, earsplitting noise came from the bushes. Ryan's shoulders dropped. He quickly and calmly reached inside the blind for his bow and beside it, his arrow. His other arrows had been lost and broken from the recent year of vigorous use. He went to notch the arrow, but when he pulled it out of the blind, it hit the side and snapped.

The source of the noise was coming closer. Ryan wasn't afraid of this walking corpse or the noise, just what the noise attracts. He needed to finish this quickly. Inside the blind, there was the perfect thing, a crowbar. Ryan grabbed it and ran toward the source. With one mighty hit, it fell.

He paused. In the distance he heard the same sharp, earsplitting moaning that he had just stopped. From this he knew had had to go quickly. Ryan knelt next to the hideous, odorous corpse. He patted it down. In the back, right pocket, he found a wallet. He pulled it out and read aloud, "Harry Webster, age: 37, height: 5 feet and 9 inches."

Ryan inhaled and went back to the deer blind. He unzipped a backpack that wreaked of dead flesh. Inside were many degraded, stinking pieces of leather that held ID's, pictures and licenses of the living dead that Ryan put down. He never failed to mourn the victims of this horrible, cursed disease.

The moaning was getting louder. Ryan had to leave when he had the chance. Behind the blind, he had stashed a bike. He rode it away on the small, abandoned dirt path. And all the things he was doing right to survive, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was just one thing wrong.