Zompoc Survivor: Inferno Read Online Free

might say no.” Amy shook her head and her nose crinkled up in a smirk. “Sure of that, are ya? So, deal is this. I made that bracelet in Iraq. I’m pretty attached to it. So, when we get to Wyoming, I want it back. Now, let’s go take a look around before you talk me into anything else.” She fell in step behind me as I started toward the structure across the roof from the chopper.
    The crowd of dead and disabled zombies was halfway across the roof, but between them and the structure I had seen several bodies. When I got to the first one, I was faced with a blank eyed corpse on its back. A single bullet hole marred the dead man’s left cheek, but judging from the red stain beneath his deformed skull, the hole on the other side was a lot bigger. This was the closest look I’d gotten at any of the infected, and I found myself staring in spite of myself. Black veins stretched across his face and up his neck from under his maroon scrub top. His hands were also laced with black veins up to the forearm. Both eyes looked red and ruptured, and I couldn’t tell if that was from the bullet or from something else. But I could see the black tracing of the veins in the whites clearly enough.
    “Truman Medical Center,” Amy read from beside me. She reached out and plucked the ID badge from his pocket. “Oh, damn.” She handed me the badge before she stood and turned away. Bill Skinner. Pediatrics. I laid it next to the body and touched Amy’s shoulder. She followed me, but her eyes went back to Skinner’s body. Suddenly the infected were a little more human to her. I knew it was a disturbing revelation, but it also meant she was a decent human being. The next infected body had also taken a bullet to the face, this one through an eye. I stood and headed for the structure, noting several more infected sprawled on the roof top along the way. Every one of them had a round through the face or head. I saw blood on the roof and brass casings in a trail leading toward the building in front of me. When I got to the structure, several bodies were laid out in front of the open doorway, and I could see a pair of scrub covered legs sticking out of the door. When I peeked inside, I could see a fatigue clad body slumped against a closed door set in the far wall. Blood stained the side of his torso and his left leg, and I could see a couple of holes in the side of his assault vest. A black submachine gun with a thick barrel was slung across his chest, and he held a pistol I was familiar with in his left hand: a SOCOM with a Laser Aiming Module and a suppressor attached. I crossed the few steps to him and went to one knee beside him.
    “Sir?” I said as I looked him over. If he was what I thought he was, the absolute last thing I needed to do was reach out and grab him unexpectedly. Under the black bowl helmet he wore, his brown hair was longer than military regs allowed, and he sported a beard. His chest didn’t move, so I finally put my hand to his left wrist. His skin was cool, and there was no pulse under my fingertips. I cursed and put my hand to his neck, but I found no dogtags.
    “Who was he?” Amy asked from the door.
    “Special forces of some kind,” I told her as I took the SOCOM and worked at getting the submachine gun free.
    “How can you tell that?”
    “One, from the bodies outside. All head shots, all in the middle of the head or face. Special forces operators are the only people I can think of who would be that accurate in the middle of a firefight with every shot.” I paused as I got the submachine gun free and slung it.
    “Next you’ll be telling me Sand People ride single file to hide their numbers,” she said. I shook my head.
    “No, the other big giveaway was the weapons and the hair. Both guns are suppressed, and the Green Berets I ran into back in Springfield carried the same pistol he’s carrying. Beard and hair longer than regs allow, Army issue fatigues but no patches, no dogtags. So, I’m thinking