Unedited Chapter One of Justice by Gillian Zane
This excerpt contains bad language, violence and other fun stuff like that. Suggest reading age 18+.

ONE | Know Stuff About Stuff

I felt alive on patrol. It was horrendous to even think this, but it was my only moments of clarity. My only moments when I felt free, able to be me. When I was back at the home base I felt like I couldn’t breathe, always looking over my shoulder in a perpetual game of cat and mouse. Here, the enemy was real, the enemy I could spot.

The enemy was trying to eat me.

It came for me, its mouth chomping in a macabre parody of chewing. It looked like a toddler begging to be fed. This was no toddler, though, it was an adult male, overweight and dressed in the remnants of a suit. His clothes hung from him, ripped to shreds, dried blood clung to every square inch of him. His belly was exposed, the grey skin of his large gut jiggled in the night air as he reached for me.

Even though the suit was ripped and stained, it was obvious it was expensive. The ripped lining had designer written all over it. Before the world ended I had been in the market for my first suit, to land my first real job. This guy could have been my boss, or maybe a client one day. Not anymore. Those days were long gone.

Leather was more practical than Italian Wool anyway.

There were a lot of polos and suit encased biters in this area of New Orleans. Lakeview, one of the most prized and over-priced areas of the city, before the world ended, of course. It was now my home. It was the hole I crawled into.

I now had a 70124 zip code, something I didn’t think would ever happen in my lifetime. A bunch of rich, workaholic snobs, had lived here. They were all now a bunch of dead rich snobs, caught unaware trying to get their last bit of work done while the world went to Hell around them. They were now cursed with wearing the same designer suit for eternity, or until I took them out.

This one had lost his shoe somewhere and one of his arms looked like it was about to fall off. Half of its face was chewed on, its cheek bones were exposed, viscous strips of flesh hanging from its eye socket like garish decorations. Its eyes were locked on me, it wanted to eat me.

It crossed my mind to just let it, maybe trip and all it would take was one bite. My brother fighting at my side, my fellow Southern Clansmen wouldn’t let me turn, he’d put a bullet in my head quicker than you could say “after-life.” It wouldn’t be that much pain, a quick bright light, and then I would be done with this place. I would be done with this messed up world.

“Rebel, what the fuck is your problem?” Bear called, he was on the other side of the street wrestling with his own biter.

I planted my knife deep into the head of the rotting corpse in front of me and it fell to the ground at my feet.

A citizen that was cleaning up the mess, dressed in a full body hazmat suit grabbed the zombie and tried to pull on it by the arm, but its arm came off, so he had to grab it by the chest. He pulled it toward the lawn by the lapels of that fancy suit. He tried to throw it onto a stack of the other dead, but the guy was too heavy. He just pushed him close to the bodies as best as he could. From what I could tell there were no other biters on their way, we were done for the night. Time to light the fire.

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