Read Regurgitated (Book 2) (The Filthy Apocalypse) for Free Online Page A

in,” I tell them. “I think I’m going to stay out here and try and decompress.”
    Teddy glances at me nervously. “You wouldn’t leave us, would you? To get even?”
    I stare at him. “You think I just killed myself so that I could drop you off and run away ten minutes later?”
    Now he’s puzzled. “Killed yourself?”
    Oops. I forgot, he doesn’t know I’m a dead man walking. “Yeah, I nearly killed myself back there. I put myself in danger to save Fergi, the last thing I’m going to do is take off on her now. You on the other hand…” I shake my head.
    “I get it.” He opens his door. “I’m sorry I got scared and pissed my pants, man.
    I’m fucking sorry. I’m a total pussy, Danny. Is that good enough for you? Do you want me to lick your sneakers next?”
    “Get the fuck out of my car, dipshit. Just get out.”
    “Fuck off.”
    “Go fuck yourself, piss boy.”
    He leans back in. “How’s your venereal disease doing?”
    “I don’t know what the hell you’re even talking about,” I say, laughing. “That piss you took in your pants must have drained the last bit of intelligence from your brain.
    You obviously have a direct line from your brain to your urinary tract. That’s why you’re a fucking dimwit.”
    Teddy points at me. “This guy has crabs and herpes and who knows what else.”
    He looks at Fergi. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s banged so many skanks, he needed to buy a whole new belt because he ran out of room for notches on the old one.”
    This is true, actually, but I just laugh and shake my head at him.
    “Look, this is none of my business,” Fergi says. She turns to me, softening. “I’ll come out in fifteen, okay?”
    “Yeah.”
    She leaves and Teddy slams his door shut, still shouting insults at me as he goes.
    I have to smile at the whole thing. Teddy and I’ve been friends for so long, we’ve had bad arguments like this in the past where we just unleash hell on one another. In a few hours, we’ll be over the whole thing anyway.
    In some ways, it’s a comfort. Arguing like that makes me feel more human, less like I’m about to turn into something ghastly.
    I glance around to make sure there are no zombies in sight, and just as importantly, no people from my caravan coming out of the store. The last thing I need now is for someone like Verne to see that I’ve received a zombie bite.
    I try pushing my sleeve up my arm to get a look at the damage, but it’s no good.
    There’s a small rip where the creature’s teeth penetrated the my shirt, and it’s too small to get a view of the wound. So I slide my arm out of my shirtsleeve and then pull the shirt up to my shoulder.
    “Damn.”
    It’s pretty nasty. I can see actual tooth marks in my arm, as if my skin were nothing but a plaster cast used to make mouth molds for his dentist appointment. Blood is oozing down my arm in thin rivulets. All in all, it’s not that bad. Nothing a course of antibiotics wouldn’t fix in a normal situation—and besides, I need to take a course of antibiotics for the rash on my junk.
    But this isn’t a normal situation. Because of this outbreak, it’s a life and death infection.
    Maybe if I was at a hospital they could amputate my arm or something to save me. Do a blood transfusion. Something. Anything.
    “Fuck me.” Such a small thing. A few teeth marks, a little blood, but nothing that should kill me. And yet it’s going to kill me…well, not really. It’s going to unkill me, turn me into one of those undead creatures.
    I close my eyes momentarily and try to picture what it will be like when I’m crazed with the need for human flesh. For some reason I picture myself chowing down on Teddy Foreskin’s leg like he’s a Thanksgiving turkey.
    He’s screaming and trying to get away and I won’t stop eating his big dumb leg.
    In this little mental fantasy I’ve pictured, Teddy’s shouting, “Gobble gobble!” at the top of his lungs.
    As I picture this scenario, I ask