Read Insurgent Z: A Zombie Novel for Free Online Page A

position, but in reality, he had no choice. Things had come to a stalemate in New Orleans, including his relationship with Vicky Dupuis, his girlfriend, and their child, Kenneth. Too many times, Mason would howl in the night, blindly stampeding through the house—smashing mirrors and glass, anything that showed his reflection. He simply couldn’t look at himself without seeing the pawn that had gotten his friends killed. He remembered attending their separate funerals and how the eyes of their grieving family members burned into him. Those eyes screamed, ‘Why you? Why did you live and not him?’ Mason wrestled with the same questions every day.
    On the day he received the message from his boss that he would be relocated to Botte, he came home to a note Vicky had left on the kitchen table. It said that she had taken their child and wouldn’t be coming back. Mason scanned the note for any detail of where she might have gone, but there was none. He debated calling the police before realizing he was the police. He picked up the phone to make a call to Vicky’s mother, but decided to set the receiver back down. Maybe it was better this way. Mason’s son wouldn’t remember him as being such a monster and could live a better life away from him.
    He never called anyone, and he didn’t try to find them. Mason figured this was the fresh start he needed to save his life and turn things around, and to one day, have a meaningful impact on his son’s life. The girlfriend he could care less about. Floozy cocktail waitresses at casinos tend not to make the best partners. She was replaceable. His son was not. One day, when he straightened himself out, Mason would find them again and prove he had made the right choices.
    Mason had packed up a tiny U-Haul and moved to Botte, Louisiana. He jumped into his new job with a passion that went out as quickly as it had ignited. There was nothing to do and no crimes of any significance to worry with. It was boring, and as much as he thought peace and quiet was what he needed, Mason was wrong. His staff was small, a handful of deputies, and one foul-mouthed receptionist that amused him, because she swore worse than he did and was fifty years his senior. He had called his boss back in New Orleans and begged him to reconsider. His boss had coldly informed him that the prisoner he had beaten died, and it would be best if Mason never returned. The inmate had been some low-level pimp and drug dealer, so the corrupt New Orleans police had no problem pinning the murder on another inmate who was locked up for life anyway. Mason didn’t care that the man had died, and in fact, he was somewhat pleased with himself that the piece of walking trash wouldn’t hurt another person again. This realization that he didn’t care, scared him a bit. He had hung up with the sheriff, thanking him again for the opportunity, and resumed his job as sheriff of Botte.
    Mason ran a hand through his greasy, black hair. He would need a shower before heading into work. The stale odor of cigarettes and sweet aroma of whisky perfumed the room. It became more pronounced as the humidity rose in the bathroom, the hot shower working wonders on his aching body. The robust scent of sandalwood and vanilla soap quickly replaced it. He exited the shower and stared at the reflection in the mirror. He was a wreck. Black, stubbly hairs dotted his face, steely blue eyes dull and bloodshot. He applied some drops to them to try to tone down the redness. He needed coffee. The small bottle of whisky he polished off, nestled atop the toilet as he relieved himself, wasn’t enough to shift his motor into high gear. A quick shave revealed skin littered with small scars around his lips and eyes. Finally, Mason applied minty toothpaste that promised to whiten his teeth in thirty days to help chase away the rat that died in his mouth.
    Once in the kitchen, small cockroaches and silverfish scattered as he kicked aside empty beer cans and fast food