“Campbell swerved his bike, narrowly missing the little kid. The front tire hit the curb and the bike flipped, pitching Campbell across the sidewalk and into the weeds along the side of the street. Campbell had pedaled in the direction of the gunshots, figuring it was the most likely place to find Pete, and the first exit off the highway had led right past a gas station into a middle-class neighborhood. He had slowed, hoping not to get shot or attacked, but he had mentally prepared for any possi...bility except the one that had occurred. His elbow throbbed and his knees were skinned, but no bones appeared to be broken. His first thought was that the kid might be a Zaphead, which would explain why he’d run out into the street toward the bike. But the boy simply stood there, staring at Campbell, a baby doll dangling limply from one hand. Definitely not a Zaphead, or he’d be on me while I’m down. Campbell sat up, his shirt wet from a broken water bottle in his backpack. “Hi there,” Campbell said, in his friendliest voice, as if they were crossing paths on a playground instead of in the middle of the apocalypse.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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