Read Zombified (Episode 3): Garden Harbor for Free Online Page A

and Dana sat in the front, Matty braced himself in the back, gun in hand.  Squealing in protest, the wagon lurched out of the campsite and spun to a stop; the engine sputtered and died.
    "That didn't take long," Dana said.  Joey glared at her.
    The wagon started after a couple twists of the key.  They bounced along the root-covered ground in the pale dawn, careening through the trees at a reckless pace; the black surface of highway 93 appeared ahead.
    "Hang on." Joey gunned it, cut the wheel, pumped the brakes, and then floored the accelerator.  As the wagon slid sideways toward the far side of the road—marked by a wall of imposing trees—Dana screamed in one long, unbroken song of terror.  Matty braced both legs against the driver-side rear door and clung to the opposite door handles; he wanted to scream, but there was no use competing with Dana.
    Matty waited for the vehicle to explode, or flip over in a tumbling maelstrom of fire and death.  He had ridden shotgun during Joey's 'midnight marauder' drives, but Bad Betty had more steel and less rust than the paneled wagon.
    Abruptly—and within inches of a gnarled oak—the clunker straightened and took off on a more or less straight course. 
    "Holy shit!" Dana blurted.  "That was scarier than being bitten by a fuckin' zombie!"
    "No it wasn't."  Joey huffed and waved a hand.  "That was tit."
    Rattling and gurgling, the battered car chugged down 93 towards Double Brook, a casino and entertainment complex on the outskirts of Garden Harbor.  After ten minutes of driving, they saw the wide circular building looming on the right.
    There was no way through the main entrance; smashed cars, burning wrecks and piles of bodies lay strewn in a wide arc around the flickering sign.  Among the debris, dozens of zombies staggered about, gnawing on severed limbs and lapping at pools of thick black blood.
    "There's a delivery entrance a few miles down the road," Matty said.
    "Not much of a choice." Joey veered around the carnage and pushed the wagon to its limits, flooring the gas as the munchers groaned and fell in behind.
    "Shit! A couple of them are running after us, guys." Dana pointed to the rear.
    A blue and white sign appeared on the roadside, adjacent to a narrow, winding road that disappeared into the trees. 
    "That's it." Matty gestured at the sign.  He checked the safety on the .40 caliber and chambered a round.  "Let's hope we can find something near the loading dock."
    "I'll take a tractor over this piece of shit anyday," Joey said. 
    With each winding turn, the wagon squealed and a metallic grinding accompanied every press of the brake.  Four overhead doors appeared before them, and a pair of delivery trucks occupied the first two loading spaces.
    "Up there!" Dana leaned forward in the seat.  "On the roof!"
    Joey slowed the car and everyone peered out the window.  Above the loading dock, two women held a long banner of some billowy fabric; on the cloth, scrawled in bright red, were the words "Get us outta here!"
    "Why haven't they taken the trucks?" Dana frowned.
    "My guess," Matty said, "is that the trucks don't work or don't have any gas.  That leaves us the zombie-infested parking lot."
    "We can't leave these people stuck here," said Joey.  He pulled up to the loading dock and shut off the wagon.  Gripping the wheel tightly, Joey shook his head.  "I won't ignore them to save my own ass."
    "It's not right, but we can't lock ourselves in a building surrounded with zombies—not for them or anyone else."  Matty saw Dana bite her lip; she seemed to know what Matty had realized the minute the words escaped his lips: Joey had made up his mind.
    "If you can't do it, I'll do it alone." Joey opened the door and put a foot on the ground.  "There's too much blood on my hands already."  He stepped out, placed two fingers in his mouth, and let loose an ear-splitting whistle.
    "Fuck me." Matty slid out of the car.  Dana jumped out and stood next to