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

had a liking for human blood. She couldn’t understand them and their need to feed or their fate, one so different from the other survivors.

Those freakish red eyes. That’s the least of the changes.

Biting harder on her lip, she attempted to clear her mind of the stress-induced gibberish running through it but couldn’t.

Good news for her and the other survivors, the New Race in her group avoided leaving trails of lifeless, chewed up bodies. Yet, while she lived with the New Race, Jenna still clung to the belief they were kin to the Streakers. Mythology and lore had come to fruition. Vampires and zombies running amuck, and with them, death in heavy doses for humans.

The gun barrel slid down in her moist hand. The dog tags from Emma scratched against her thigh. As she trudged onward, only Caleb’s back continued to guide her.

Where were Gus, Jackie, and Victor hiding?

At this point she’d even be happy to see George.

Maybe not George.

No one approached. Jenna had a sinking suspicion she was on her own with Caleb.

This is it. My fate is sealed. Pausing a beat, she listened for the thump of footsteps. No one follows except death.

She threaded her way from one dreary corridor to the next, Caleb in the lead.

The light grew brighter through slits in the wood nailed over broken windows, and Jenna stopped. She needed numbers. It would be imperative to their survival to know how many Streakers waited. Heaving back the end of a splintered board, the world outside came into view. An eyeful of roaming, bloated, sunken-cheeked zombies greeted her. Two already clamored close to the entry. Three shuffled listlessly, heads bent, mouths open as if lobotomized.

Sensing dinner, their disfigured, swollen faces and cataracted eyes swiveled in her direction.

The undead first spotted from the roof had multiplied. Seven stumbling masses of excrement, rot, and death waited.

“Not good.” Fear knotted her voice.

Control it. Ask why it’s only the two of us. Does he want me dead?

More Streakers would arrive, numbers multiplying, but they were stuck outside for the present. The group had learned a lot even since Jenna had joined. Lives lost early on because of attacks like this taught some hard lessons. Now, every place the faction settled had to be secured. There were protocols and rules. Lots of rules for survival. Fighting with only one other person was not on the list. Yet, here she was alone with Caleb.

She gazed into the street for a last look and sucked in morning air only to inhale the rancid smell of death.

Zombies scraped and clawed. Time to kill the living dead.

2

Streakers outside sounded like rats digging through a wall.

She’d heard the sound often enough and hated it.

Jenna didn’t need to look through the window to see the undead clawing against the building, peeling their fingers, layer by layer, to the bone trying to dig through the brick. They were pressed together against the building like a stack of pancakes and shooting them with any accuracy would be near impossible while using up large quantities of scarce ammunition.

Inside, standing next to Caleb, it was gray and damp.

“Where’s everyone else?” Jenna worried her lip.

“We don’t need them.”

“The two of us alone?” She double-checked the ammunition in the gun, fiddling with the weapon as she spoke. “You don’t want more people here to help?”

“The Streakers are wedged against the building. Can’t shoot them often enough in brain to bring them down. The group’s ready upstairs and on the steps. They’ll deal with them if they make it by me. They won’t get past me.” He brandished a machete.

“I’m part of this little entourage.”

“They won’t get by us.” He emphasized the last word of the sentence. “I’ll kill most of them as soon as they enter the main hall. I’m much more accurate than a gun.”

“And with a much bigger ego. If you can take them, why am I here?”

“You’re going to cover my back. Don’t let Streakers make it to the stairs. We’ll take them down together. In the unlikely case there’s a straggler, the twins can practice their hunting skills on the leftovers.”

“Be serious, “Jenna huffed. “I counted seven of them and two of us.” She stepped into the expansive, main hallway of the school where a few steps away, mutilated faces and distended bodies waited.

“I don’t want to risk anyone else down here.”

“Except me.” Her ponytail whipped when she shook her head to clear it. “I’m confused. Am I’m going outside? I could go out the back and catch them unaware.”

They should’ve prepared before coming down. How’d she end up with one wall between her and the horde and no plan? She’d thrown survival lesson number one out the window all because it was Caleb in the dark corner of the hallway. Anyone else, she’d have been more rational, organized this whole little adventure out in detail before hitting the steps and standing before the double doors at the school’s entrance.

“Not right now. You’re better as my back up here. The entrance to the school is large enough that streakers can’t back us into the corners. It makes sense to invite them in here where we’re prepared and can spread out. There’s only one staircase that hasn’t been fortified and people are at the top waiting just in case.”

“Outside we have even more room.”

“There could be more undead around the corner.” He shrugged as if discussing a raccoon tipping over a garbage can. “No one wants to send you outside alone and risk your life.”

Jenna found the shrug irritating. “There are always more monsters.” Her words turned clipped. “Clarify this brilliant plan for me, please.”

“Letting them inside isn’t optimal, but Streakers won’t get beyond this room. Once they hit the shadows in here, they’re body parts.”

“They’re already body parts. Nothing more.”

“But they won’t be walking, reanimated body parts.”

She studied the entrance to the high school, considering the best tactical location. No corners. No stairs. Her foot planted on a torn, plastic banner proclaiming “Special Things Happen Here.” She’d