Apocalipstick (Hell in a Handbag Book 1) by Lisa Acerbo (the best e book reader txt) 📗

could get behind those names.” He maneuvered next to her.

“I get Moon. Your guy is Star.” She kicked her energetic horse into a lope.

The two entered into the deep woods. It was peaceful and quiet, and they rode in a companionable silence.

She trusted him. Maybe he could help with her problem. It wasn’t serious, more of a nagging concern. Nothing bad had happened.

“Can I ask your opinion on something?”

“Yes, I am the sexiest man in camp.”

“This is serious.”

“Go ahead.”

“It’s about George? He gives me the creeps, and he’s been watching me.”

“What’s the question?”

“You have to deal with him often. Is he stable? Safe?”

“He’s a little off, but he had a hard life even before the end of civilization. Once you get to know him, he’s not all bad. One of the good old boys if you get my drift. I’d avoid him if he creeps you out but he’s not dangerous. Sexist, misogynistic, sure. Dangerous. I doubt.”

“Is he still with Jackie?”

“Not sure but neither of them makes their relationship status known. Some people like to keep their private life private around here. Caleb’s been spending a lot of time with Aiko lately.” He squinted hard at Jenna.

“Alrighty then.” The conversation dropped.

They roamed, enjoying the thrill of ditching chores and work.

It had been too long since she relaxed and had some fun.

Moon shivered and snorted. He sucked in a breath and started dancing again. The horse pranced and pawed the ground before turning in the opposite direction, ready to bolt.

“Easy, Star. Easy.” Quentin patted the horse on the neck and tugged the reins. Star’s nose quivered, smelling the air, eyes growing large with fear. The horse huffed.

Branches snapped and twigs cracked. A grey squirrel ran in front of the horses causing them to spook. Jenna turned Moon in tight circles before he could bolt.

“A squirrel? Really?” Jenna shook her head before patting the horse’s neck.

Relief flooded through her

Quentin made no comment, his attention focused on the prancing Clydesdale.

Star still refused to settle.

They heard the breaking of branches too late and watched in horror from their saddle when a Streaker clad in the remains of khaki pants and a green shirt, the High Point Inn’s uniform, limped closer. The undead must have tracked the sounds of the frightened horses. When the creature focused on them with lifeless black eyes, Jenna shivered along with the horse.

It snorted, smelling the worth of their souls.

The dead creature staggered closer.

Moon pranced in a tight circle before rearing and bucking, throwing Jenna off.

Red dots filled her eyes and pain flooded her back when she hit hard.

Quentin, still astride, vied desperately for control. His horse skittered backwards, away from the ghastly image, hooves barely missing Jenna’s head.

She rolled away and grabbed a large branch, scrambling into a sitting position. Her head throbbed, sight fuzzy. The undead hooked her boot with ghastly green, molding fingers. Her back tore against the rocks as the undead dragged her closer.

The Streaker drooled and chomped. Kicking out, she connected with the monster’s mouth, shattering its few remaining teeth. The undead’s mouth continued to crunch and chomp, attempting to reach flesh.

“Quentin!” Her scream bounced off the trees. Another strike caused the undead to stagger back and tumble to the ground. A loud snap made Jenna hopeful her boot had broken something in the Streaker’s already decaying body.

She’d pray to the gods for small miracles.

Using the reprieve, she grabbed the impromptu wood weapon, jumped up, and bashed the figure writhing and squirming on the ground like a large putrid slug.

Quentin, finally in control of his horse, jumped off only to have Star bolt when he let go of the reins. He grabbed another large tree limb as a weapon. Hoisting the massive branch, he impaled the creature in the head. The sickening crack of rotting bone and flesh accompanied the ooze of murky green fluid.

They stared at the twitching Streaker.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Jenna nodded.

“We were really stupid to come out here without weapons.” He moved close. “We have to get back and tell everyone Streakers have gotten through the fences.”

“Maybe it was only one.”

“Could be but when one arrives others soon follow. We need to find out how it got in. A fence must have broken.”

“We have to find the horses,” she said. “They ran off.”

“We will but I bet they return to the barn. They know when they have a good thing. Don’t worry.”

“I hurt my head when I fell from the horse,” She rolled her neck causing a shooting pain in her temple.”

“Be careful. You might have a concussion.”

“Just what I need.” She leaned against Quentin. “Not fun.”

He put an arm around her. “Emma needs to look you over.”

“Let’s get going. It’s going to be a long walk.”

14

Jenna leaned on Quentin and focused on putting one foot in front of another. Sirens exploded in her head and double vision blurred her outlook. More than two hours passed before making it back to the inn and by then Jackie and Emma were organizing a search party.

“There you are.” Emma’s hug made Jenna nauseous.

She stood silent when Quentin explained what happened.

“I want to see you right after this,” Emma admonished.

“Both of you should have better sense.” Gus’s lips stretched into a tight frown. “You want to go back out and show me where this all happened?”

“Absolutely,” Quentin said. “We need to make sure there are no more around.”

“Let’s grab some weapons and George and Ford for back up.” Gus walked toward the inn.

Jenna hung her head as Emma probed and inspected. After the exam, she climbed the steps towards bed.

Waking at dusk, she meandered to the lobby to discuss how Streakers managed to get close to the inn. Her head still ached, a mild concussion. With the curtains drawn back, the night sky was on full display. The over-stuffed couch in the lobby beckoned.

She’d live to fight another day, which might be soon. So much for relaxation and peace of mind.

Emma had handed her a few aspirin from their dwindling supply, but she’d