Jon Versus the Dead: The Dead Series, #5

By Ray Wenck

Jon had a problem. Jon always had a problem, only this time it involved a herd of zombies.

With his family on their way to safety, Jon must find a way through the horde to reach them. It is a five-mile trek through hundreds of hungry creatures and his only weapon is his baseball bat which makes this a true home run.

Will he survive the journey? Will he be reunited with his family or will he strike out?

Why you asking me? Read the damn story.

Run Jon, run.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ray Wenck
• Release date: Dec 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201067618

Ray Wenck

Ray Wenck was an elementary school teacher for 35 years. He owned and operated an Italian restaurant for 25 of those years. When not writing his hobbies include baseball, cooking and playing the harmonica.

Book preview

Dedication

This work is dedicated to George Romero for giving us the Living Dead.

Oh, and to Jon.

Author’s Notes

I’VE GOT NONE. I CAN’T believe I wrote another zombie story.

Read all you want, I’ll write more. (Just not of this stuff)

Merry Christmas, Jon.

Ray 

Chapter One  

They’re coming, Jon shouted. I see them. The fear elevated the pitch of his voice, raising it to just below a panicked shriek. They’re down the street. Hurry. Get to the bus. Now. He zipped up the old baseball duffel bag he’d been busy jamming supplies into. He shut the refrigerator door and hurried to the front door where Molly, his wife and Bridget, his two-year-old daughter, were busy slipping into jackets.

Molly looked up, apprehension etched into her pretty face. She started to speak but couldn’t. Jon wrapped them both in an embrace. We’ll be alright. Let’s get to the bus and join the rest of our family. We’ll be safe there.

Molly wiped her eyes and lifted Bridget, while Jon opened the door. They stepped outside. Molly and Bridget were already moving to the waiting school bus. Jon turned to close the door and ensure it was locked as the impatient and anxious driver honked. It was to be the last bus evacuating the residents of the Village of Whitehouse, Ohio. Missing it was not an option. Jon turned, glancing down the street at the approaching herd of zombies. An unbidden shiver ran through his body. He had a duffel bag over one shoulder and a backpack over the other. They bounced as he jogged. A rolling suitcase trailed behind.

Get in! the harried driver shouted.

Jon ran up the steps. Molly was in the second row. She had panic on her face as she spun, searching for something. Jon, Bridget’s bag. Do you have it?

He knew he didn’t but checked anyway. Can we do without it?

No. It has all of her formula. We may not be able to find more.

He glanced through the windshield at the advancing front line of the dead, then at the house, judging the distance and time. He passed the bags to Molly.

The driver, a large, older man with thinning white hair, said, We can’t wait.

Yes, you can, he said, dropping to the blacktop. He turned and held the driver’s eyes. I’ll be back fast. He pointed a finger to emphasize his demand. Don’t you go anywhere.

Jon sprinted for the house, digging in his pocket for the key. He heard the swish of the bus door close behind him and prayed the driver waited for him. Pressure built in his chest, pressing against his rapidly beating heart. He tried to recall where he had last seen the bag, wanting to be ready once the door swung open to