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Outbreak (Book 3): Endplay

Page 36

by Scott Shoyer


  Andre went on. “Besides, the way they tell it, God’s already everywhere. You want to talk to Him, talk to Him.”

  He set about beating the dust from his pants, which meant he was about to go off on some long tangent. Claire didn’t mind so long as the horses didn’t.

  “You’d find it hard to believe, but there was a time when people wanted this,” Andre said. “I mean the fall of Man. God’s got a lot of faces and He’s made a lot of promises. People were tired of waiting for Ye Olde Apocalypse for the return on their investment.”

  “Investment?”

  “Faith, works, whatever. And I don’t guess it’s just those people – a lot of folks who didn’t believe in God at all wanted to see the End Times come and go without so much as a fart from the heavens, wanted to know that they were right.”

  “What does it matter when this is the world we get now?” Claire shook her head.

  “Amen,” Andre said. “But if you feel like the world you got is a wash and it’s never going to do right by you, you might just feel desperate enough to hunger for the end.”

  Hunger. Nice choice of words. Claire shivered in spite of the weather. Andre caught it and grimaced. “Sorry.”

  She shrugged it off, and there was an awkward moment of quiet. Then Andre said, “Balls.”

  “Come again, Corporal?”

  “If Idaho or anyone else ever tries to get too cozy. I’ve probably told you this before.”

  “Oh.” Claire nodded. “Yeah. Eyeballs, testicles. Whichever you can get at. I know. Yes, sir, you’ve told me a few times.”

  “Okay, okay.” Andre held his hands up in surrender. “Maybe I just like saying ‘balls.’ I know you handle yourself just fine. I just…you know.”

  “I know.”

  Nightfall would bring the dead, and Death. But for now, in the encampment designated Fairfield but affectionately known by another name, there was light and warmth and a comfortable silence.

  The Strange Dead is available from Amazon here

 

 

 


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