The Good, The Bad, And The Undead by Bonnie Gill (The Wild Wild Midwest Book 1)
English | 2020 | Fantasy | ePUB | 2.9 Mb
The law is gone. Zombies are here. Will Raven and her misfit friends survive?
Raven Murphy is a prepper, but not for the same reason most other folks do it. She’s the reason her ex-boyfriend went to jail. If he ever gets out, she’ll need to grab her sister and head off grid. In the meantime, she’s a top-notch auto mechanic with an entire arsenal of her much loved firearms in the closet of her trailer. She’s ready to go to war with the ex if she ever needs to.
The people in her trailer park in Fox Lake are a unique community. A little quirky, and some are downright weird, but for Raven, they’re family. But when a plague hits the country, victims of a creepy virus, are headed toward them, Raven teams up with pals, including a couple of ex-Army guys, to protect her neighbors. Whatever’s coming, the good, the bad, or the undead, Raven and her gun-shooting, bomb-making, booby-trap-setting team aren’t going down without a fight.
I try to remember if I wore rubber gloves when I worked on his car. I usually do, but from now on, I’ll make sure I wear them at all times. The last thing I need is to catch some kind of crud. If I don’t work, I don’t get paid. If I don’t get paid, the rent won’t get paid. Star works at the bar to pay for her schooling. I pay rent, utilities, and groceries. As long as she’s in school studying hard, I don’t mind.
When our mother was alive, she was a waitress and always worked long, crazy hours. I wanted Star to choose a career where she has the potential to make some decent money. I do okay. Maybe someday, I’ll own my own shop. Right now, I make enough to pay the bills. Living in a mobile home isn’t bad. I’ve gotten to know my neighbors over the last few years. We have a unique community—some people are kind of quirky, and some are downright weird, but they care about each other. To me, that makes them family.
“How’s that water pump going?” Dean calls out with the phone in his hand.
That’s right. It seems like every person who brings in their car expects their repairs done within the hour, even when we tell them the job will take over four hours. They also don’t realize that a bunch of other people have also brought in their vehicles. It’s just me and Dean working here. We can’t perform miracles.
“I forgot my magic wand. Give me an hour or so,” I say. “I still have to bleed the coolant system, and then it should sit overnight. Unless you want to take a chance, and let it go early?”
“Right. I’ll let them know they can pick it up tomorrow. Are you coming in?”
I would really like a Saturday off. I haven’t had one off in over three months. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”
A couple of hours later, I finish up the repairs and hand him the last set of keys.
He leans against the wall, intently staring at the TV. We advise everyone to stay home, the woman newscaster says.
“Wow, this flu is getting serious,” I say.
“Maybe we shouldn’t open tomorrow?” Dean asks.
“I feel okay.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s all the people coming in here coughing and snotting all over my shop. I don’t want to catch this. It seems nasty. People are calling it a pandemic. Are you still prepping?”
I started prepping—preparing for a disaster years ago. Every week I buy something for my stash. Last week, I bought a campfire coffee percolator. The week before, I purchased another solar cell phone charger. I pick up extra cans of beef stew, hash, and tuna whenever I go grocery shopping. I have enough food to last me for about six months. I tell everyone I’m prepping in case of a natural emergency, but honestly, it’s because if Seth ever finds out where I live, I can disappear fast. Go “off-grid”. I figure I spend about twenty-five dollars a week on prepping, not counting weapons and ammo. “You know I am. Why?”