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relaying this seemed vital. Everett had to get it through this boy’s skull that he didn’t need to be a hero, not on his account.  
    The swinging door slammed open, the entryway crowded with bodies working to shove past one another, hands reaching out before them and clawing at the air, reaching for the young couple and the old man. One body broke free and clumsily strode forward, and that was like breaking a levy, the rest pouring in behind.
    “Go!” Everett screamed with all the energy he could muster. That simple, single-syllable command died in his throat as his back seized, and he choked on the word.
    Kara and Mitch looked between him and the horde, uncertain and far too hesitant. The boy raised the gun and fired, clipping one of the zombies along the neck.
    Everett tried to tell him to go for the head but couldn’t drum up the words. He was busy coughing, which ignited new pains inside him. His hip throbbed, and he wanted to lie down and cry.
    “There’s too many,” Kara said, grabbing her boyfriend’s arm and pulling him with her. She looked back toward the old man, tears standing in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
    And then Mitch was throwing open the rear door, pulling her through and into the alley. Her mouth opened to say something more, but it was forgotten as he grabbed her and nearly took her off her feet.  
    As always, there was never enough time to say it all.
    Everett gripped the edge of the prep table with both hands, trying to keep as much weight as he could on a single foot, his arms keeping him up. His muscles were sagging, growing shaky. It didn’t matter. The horde would be on him soon.
    For all the times he’d imagined being with Lucille again, he had never considered this particular scenario as a means of being reunited with his wife.
    He closed his eyes and waited.  
    He did not wait long.
    Slowly, the tethers holding him to this world came undone, the detachments peeling screams loose from him until his voice ran hoarse and teeth found his throat and his mouth and tongue, and obliteration followed.
    In his final moments, as the darkness descended, he saw Lucille. She was young and pristine, her blond hair full and ringing her perfect, beautiful, unlined face. Everett was young again, too, and when she opened her arms to him, he fell into her embrace. Her smile was golden, and her kiss even better.
    She held him tightly and never let go.

A Note To Readers

    Thank you for choosing to read my work – it’s greatly appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed the journey!  

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Acknowledgements

    Let Go was a fun story to write, and hopefully an enjoyable read for you. I owe a debt of gratitude to a few people that helped make this work what it is. If you liked it, you can share them in your thanks. If you didn’t, then the fault rests entirely with me.
    Many thanks to my editor, Angela McRae, and proofreader, Irene Steiger, at Red Adept Editing. And thanks to Lynn McNamee for hiring these souls brave enough to edit neurotic indie writers such as myself and to coordinate our small team’s efforts.
    Thanks, also, to my beta readers David Spell and Tommy Muncie. Their insights and feedback were invaluable and both went far and above the call of duty. At the risk of this going to David’s head, the man is a rock star. Tommy, a star in his own right to be certain, is a Twitter friend and a fellow author, and he was able to give me plenty of useful suggestions and meaningful criticisms.  
    Finally, Adam Hall from Around The Pages is the man responsible for the terrific cover art. We had a brief exchange on the story elements and, right from the start, he hit on a design that exceeded expectations. But having worked with Adam before, I fully expected that. Great work, Adam!
    Between all of these dedicated folks,