All Our Tomorrows (Z is for Zombie, Book 2) by Peter Cawdron

By Peter Cawdron

Hazel is by myself in a crowd. not anyone is aware her, now not even her father. the single people who ever particularly understood her have been Steve, David and Jane. yet they’re useless. If they’re now not useless, they’re death stranded outdoors the compound. Hazel can’t settle for the sour fact of existence within the zombie apocalypse, she can’t settle for that her acquaintances are most likely lifeless. She has to discover them.

ALL OUR TOMORROWS is the motion packed sequel to WHAT WE LEFT in the back of

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Example text

He fucked her ass, pumped and pounded, clutched her hips like handles. Fondled a breast when he could, crushed it against her body, pinched sore, abused nipples. He convulsed against her and pulled out, a blood and cum mixture tricking down the back of her thigh. Nausea captured her breath, and she collapsed on her side. After the moaning subsided, after the cries began to die down, a guard said, “Most of you did well. ” Oh, no. Clamped her eyes shut, clutched her stomach. “Zoey, Lucy. ” Dread washed over her like acid rain.

She followed the crowd as they gathered outside the door. All the prisoners were there—fifteen now, the three who had been punished now missing—and were told to form a line. One-by-one they were weighed. Zoey had lost twenty-six pounds. She was told to go inside. ” The young guard took her hand, led her to an area of the floor covered with mats. ” He was upbeat, chipper, a goddamned boy scout. ” Yeah? Who the hell cares? The frustration felt when she’d made the decision to give up was almost as painful as the idea of the resignation itself.

She pulled it out, and it was also soaked. Several applications later, she had it under control. Supporting herself against the wall, she stood, nearly flushed out of habit. The water was sanguineous, mottled with blood clots. The exertion stole her breath, drained her small reserve of energy as she made her way outside the stall. Voices outside the bathroom. Her head jerked from side to side, as if she had a decision to make, as if she had any options at all. The stall was all she had, and she moved back inside and straddled the toilet, moved as far back as she could.

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