Read Chaos Theory: A Zombie Novel for Free Online

be for long, and pieces of them were scattered about on the reddening snow. One was trying to keep his insides inside with his one arm, and another was making a feeble attempt to crawl away with half a leg, leaving bits of himself behind in a red trail as he moved through the white world. He didn’t get far and the screaming turned to whimpering in about a minute.
    I had now killed living men, dead women, and a Runner, however you classify him. Infected? I was thinking that I had been in prison for a year, but I had never killed anything other than bugs and a particularly unlucky chipmunk in my life until the past week, when I heard movement behind me.
    Ship was sitting up. He was more than half my height sitting down he was so huge. Dealing with a gigantic zombie in a small room which, incidentally, was aflame, was going to be tricky. Not to mention his hundred pound leg was directly across the trapdoor. The big guy was starting to stand, so I darted for the shotgun leaning against the table. I was fast and I grabbed it, jacking a round into the chamber. What I actually did was jack the only shell that was in the weapon out onto the floor, where it rolled away and under the torture device Ship had called a couch. Shockingly, the weapon wouldn’t fire. Ninja like, I flipped the shotty around, brandishing it by the barrel, and with a war cry that would have put Conan to shame, I swung my bludgeon at his noodle in an arc designed to take it off at the neck.
    The creature’s left hand shot out like a striking mamba and halted my wayward attempt at decapitation mid swing. It then grabbed me by the neck with its free hand and lifted me off the floor. My vision started to blur, and I have no doubts my face went from peach to cherry to plum with little pause between. Dead bastard was going to eat me standing up.
    Then he put me down gently and shook his head in disbelief. He passed me back the shotgun and put a hand to his head, drawing it back in a moment. He looked at his hand and swooned, sitting on the couch with a creak. Apparently, my Ship had not sunk.
    I stood there in shock until he opened the bullet-ridden fridge and grabbed a beer. It also had been murdered, so he tossed it, grabbed a survivor and put it to his head. I was still in shock when he whipped around and saw the fire behind him. He stood quickly blinking hard, obviously woozy. Grabbing a fire extinguisher, he pulled the pin, pointed it at the fire, and pulled the trigger. Momentary confusion set in for both of us as nothing happened, then he held up the extinguisher, and noticed that it too had been killed in the redneck attack.
    The whole A frame shook when he hit the floor. The slaughter of his house, his fridge, his fire extinguisher, and most importantly his beers must have been too much for him, and he had passed right the hell out. I opened the trap door and tried to move him to it. Nope. I’m a strong guy, six four, two forty, little bit of flab, but I worked out in the joint. I couldn’t budge him. I slapped him twice. His eyes fluttered, but only for a moment.
    I ran through his burning home to the kitchen and grabbed a pitcher, filling it with water. I dumped it on his head and that woke him up. We climbed down the ladder, almost falling because I forgot to release the bottom half, and he sat in the snow about fifty feet away against a pine tree. I was struck by an epiphany and raced back up the ladder. The place was really burning now and I reached for the shotgun, but it was too hot to pick up. My revolver was nowhere in sight, the last time I remember having it was when I was on the couch, which was now merrily ablaze. I was able to find the two items I originally went back for though, and as an afterthought, I dumped the fridge over and grabbed the last four beers with no holes in them.
    I scurried back down the ladder and made my way to my buddy, whom I had known less than twenty four hours. He was on his back, and his head was bleeding