Keep My Secrets by Elena Wilkes (management books to read .txt) 📕

Then Ariel moved into sight at the foot of the stairs, a ruined mess of torn flesh and bloodied rags.

In that tiny staircase, the boom of the shotgun was like the rage of a god.

Holy. Shit.

Ariel’s head vanished, her body crumpling, and now all bets were off. My stealth mode was gone and I took a gamble, moving down another couple of stairs to try and get a clearer view of the kitchen. Theo’s scrotum face appeared in my vision and I flinched, reflexively unleashing the second barrel which didn’t hit him in the head. Instead it knocked him from his feet, his torso a pulverised ruin from the buckshot. Swiftly, I popped open the action, fumbled two more shells into the barrels and clicked it shut just as Jericho shuffled into view.

This time I kept my calm, aimed, then squeezed the first trigger and transformed his skull into bloody fragments. The mess at the bottom of the stairs was horrific, with two headless corpses spilling out their innards and all kinds of trauma from the earlier zombie avalanche and the ruination of Grace and Theo.

I inched down another couple of steps and found I had enough space to get into the kitchen proper before the next undead closed the gap, so I did just that. Springing over the pool of gore at the base of the stairs, I moved with my back to one wall to find five undead whirling towards me. Remembering Nate’s lesson, always take the closest one to you, I took a bead.

That was Faith, her face and neck just a canvas of torn flesh and spilled crimson, like she was some psychotic project of a demented artist. I pulled the trigger with the barrel high in her chest, but the spread was enough to blast through the brain and she toppled. I was already popping the action open, fumbling two more shells into the barrels as the others closed.

Skye and Pax were next to go before I needed a reload, which I did by moving around obstacles like the big dining table and kitchen island, keeping a barrier between me and the undead while I fumbled two more shells into the shotgun. I clicked it shut, took aim, then evaporated Grace’s head and then finally, with the second shell, I moved it round to Hope, the selfish bitch that had started all this fucking bedlam, not hesitating for a second as I permanently put her to rest.

“Holy shit,” I breathed out, all relieved as I leaned on the island, head down and panting as my heart raced. Just Mr Potato Head upstairs to take care off at leisure, as well as….

I cursed, turning just as Theo, his torso in ribbons, rose back to his feet and lunged at me. There were no shells in the gun. I’d gotten sloppy, not double tapping that son of a bitch after blasting him in the chest and in all the mayhem of Hell’s Kitchen, I’d forgotten about him.

The shotgun was still in my hands and I managed to raise it between us as Theo’s snapping teeth bit down on to the barrel of the weapon. His forward momentum caught me off guard though, carrying me backwards, knocking the air out of my lungs as I slammed into the hard kitchen floor. I could feel the blood from his ruined body soaking my nice clean tracksuit as he oozed all over me while I desperately tried to keep his teeth from my face.

He was heavy though and I was struggling with his weight, as my chest and shoulder were bruised as all hell from the previous day’s shooting, topped off with today’s unexpected shooting repeatedly punching those bruises. One side of me was weak and I desperately tried to keep the barrel of the shotgun between his teeth so he had no chance of biting me, all the while trying to figure out some escape for my desperate situation.

It was the fat guy in the Hawaiian shirt all over again, only this time I didn’t have Particles and a loaded shotgun by my ear.

The pressure suddenly relieved as Freya appeared above me. Grabbing a fistful of Theo’s wiry hair, she yanked back his head like Nate had shown the day before and with absolutely no hesitation, she rammed a long-bladed kitchen knife right into Testicle Face’s left eye. In the blink of an eye (pun intended) Theo went limp.

Freya helped me to my feet and I looked down at myself, dripping in gore.

“I think I might need to wash your clothes,” I said, eliciting a laugh from her. Killing that zombie seemed to have added something to her, like she’d banished some demon from within. She seemed… calmer.

Particles ran round in circles on the kitchen top, where Freya had deposited him while retrieving the knife to save my ass. I scratched at his ear and he settled down.

I popped two more shells from my pocket into the shotgun and blew out a breath.

“Why don’t you put the kettle on,” I said. “While I go and take care of Zion.”

Freya nodded, calmly filling up the kettle from the tap, surrounded by the ninth level of hell.

Zion was already reanimated. There was no ceremony, no great moment of savouring it. I was too damn tired, so I just opened the door to find the glassy eyed shithead near the far wall.

“Fuck you, Nigel,” I muttered.

I took aim directly at his stupid fluffy head-potato, blasting it from existence so there was one less in the world, before quietly closing the door behind me.

Freya and I were enjoying a nice cup of camomile tea when Nate rolled back through the gates. I watched him put the car back in position in front of them, then drive up to the lodge in the pickup. When he arrived at the glass doors, he stopped dead.

I was sat on the kitchen island, my