Badass Zombie Road Trip Read Online Free

Did he? “I can’t go back, Jonah. Just leave it at that. Please.”
    “Oh,” Jonah said, because that was all he could really think to say. Between the two of them, Dale was supposed to be the strong one. The powerful one. The ‘fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke’ one. Yet here, at this moment in time, in this donut-topped wart on America’s ass, Dale was all at once stripped bare of his titles, bare of his defenses, bare of his machismo. This was a new side Jonah had never seen before. The effect was chilling. “Okay, buddy. I won’t bother you about it anymore.”
    “Promise?”
    “Yeah.” But he knew it was a lie the moment he said it.
    “Thanks.”
    “I mean, I think you would feel a lot better if you just talk it out—”
    “Jonah,” Dale said, then heaved a tired sigh.
    “Can I just ask one thing and I promise I’ll let it go?”
    “I said I’m not talking about California anymore.”
    “No, I don’t want to know about that.” But in truth, he did. “I just wondered why you booked us a job in Reno if you can never return to California. Isn’t that a little close to the state line?”
    Dale rubbed the back of his neck as he looked away, a classic sign of embarrassment for the man.
    “Well?” Jonah asked.
    “Well,” Dale started. “I kinda thought it was Vegas when I answered the ad. They said we were playing a casino. I just assumed.”
    “Only Dale Jenkins would assume that all casinos lead to Vegas.” Jonah smiled at his friend’s unease. Something about seeing Dale squirm always made him smirk. “I guess that also explains why we are driving two hundred miles instead of playing someplace local.”
    “No, we are driving two hundred miles because everyone within a hundred miles has heard us already.” Dale broke into rowdy laughter at his own joke.
    Jonah joined Dale’s laughter, knowing that in some respects, the joke was funny because it was oh so true. While each on his own proved to be an able musician, the pair of them never seemed to get it together as a band. Or a duo. Jonah preferred soft rock and folk music as opposed to Dale’s obsession with hard rock and speed metal. Their united sound was tantamount to a caterwauling ballad sung by a donkey with his genitalia trapped in a vice. Jonah was surprised when Dale announced that he had suckered a place—aside from the local bar—into letting them play at all, and then immediately felt sorry for the folks who might make the mistake of attending their performance.
    “Okay, then,” Jonah said, after their laughter wound down. “Let’s get back to the question of where we’re headed after Reno. And before you start, the answer is still no to the chickens.”
    “A little fowl action might do you some good.”
    Jonah groaned as he got to his feet. “Don’t start with the puns. I don’t think my indigestion can take it.”
    “Then don’t egg me on.”
    “Cut it out, Dale.”
    “Vegas?”
    Putting away his book, as well as his dreams of visiting new and exciting places, Jonah gave another dejected sigh, then agreed. “Vegas.”
    “Good. I’ve gotta take a leak. Don’t leave without me.” Dale stood and headed to the bathroom, leaving Jonah to deal with the bill, as usual.
    Jonah tucked the book under his arm as he watched Dale retreat from responsibility yet again. This was the Dale he knew, the real Dale. Jonah tried to forget about the whole thing, but something had happened during that conversation, something Jonah had never experienced in all the years he had known Dale. It wasn’t just the level of discomfort that his friend showed, or his unwillingness to talk about his past. It was something deeper. Something primal. A spark flashed in Jonah’s very soul, a spark that leapt to a flame, which smoldered into a slow burn of worry.
    “What’s with your friend?” the cashier asked.
    Jonah looked away from the woman and shrugged.
    “What’s he got against California?” she asked. “I grew up