Elements of the Undead: Fire (Book One) by William Esmont Page A

refugees, they were her most trusted friends and confidantes, people with whom she routinely entrusted not only her life, but the lives of the myriad other people living in the compound.
    “She rises!” exclaimed a shaggy-haired man of about fifty.
    Megan gave him an annoyed grin. “Very funny, Pringle.”
    Mike Pringle, or ‘Pringle’ as he liked to be called, threw back his head and guffawed. “I’m just busting your balls, Megan.” Megan bit her tongue, resisting the urge to snap at him. Pringle was always busting someone’s balls.
    Six weeks earlier, she and Cesar had found Pringle on the side of I-10, just north of town. Her first impression had been that he was hanging on by a thread, that he was a drifter who would move on in a few days. She was wrong. Within a week, Pringle began to relax, to become part of the community. He was staying. Megan still didn’t know his whole story, only that he had been an airline pilot before, and that he had been flying the day the dead rose. Every time she pressed him on how he had survived, he changed the subject. What she did know was that he had a good head on his shoulders despite his acidic tongue and his initial clumsy attempts to get into her pants. She trusted him. For the most part.
    Cesar positioned himself on the arm of an easy chair, an almost imperceptible groan escaping as he eased himself down. His back. Megan’s fingers found a three-inch scar on her left arm and rubbed it. Like everyone else, she had her own battle marks from the war for survival.
    She took Cesar’s cue, found a spot on an opposing couch, and tucked her feet beneath her. The air in the room felt charged, as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting.
    Cesar coughed into his hand. “I’d like to start by thanking you all for coming over tonight,” he began. “I know we have a lot to do for tomorrow, but this is important.”
    Megan knew what was coming. Cesar had briefed her on his plans, using her as a sounding board. “I’m going to cut straight to the point,” he continued.
    Pringle shifted in his seat, straightened up and leaned forward. “Well, let’s get on with it, amigo .”
    A slight frown, gone before it could gain purchase, flitted across Cesar’s lips. Megan knew he hated it when Pringle called him that, knew how much he bristled at being stereotyped because of the color of his skin.
    “We’re staying the course,” Cesar announced. No build-up. No preamble.
    Pringle reclined and flicked a non-existent piece of dirt from his knee. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea Cesar.”
    Megan’s face grew warm. She shared a sidelong glance with Cesar. “What do you mean?”
    Pringle let out an exasperated sigh. “We’ve gone over this a million times.” He stood and walked to the window. “We’ve grown too fast. We’ve got too many people for the supplies on hand. We can’t keep this up.” He turned back to face them.
    Megan opened her mouth, but Pringle cut her off. “Plus, there’s been an increase in undead traffic over the past few weeks. Hell, just yesterday we found two of them just down the road, heading toward the gate.”
    “And we stopped them,” Cesar interjected, “As we always do.”
    Pringle pointed at him. “If you had balls, Cesar, you would have said no to all of these additional people. We were fine at twenty, maybe even thirty. But now we’ve got a crisis on our hands. We’ve got people here who can’t fight their way out of a paper bag, and we’re somehow responsible for them. I’m sick and tired of it!” He took a menacing step toward Cesar.
    “So that’s what this is all about?” Cesar replied. “You want to turn people away? Tell them to fend for themselves?” Cesar’s temper flared. “We will not turn anyone away!” Cesar said in slow, even words. “Not as long as I have any say in the matter.”
    Pringle’s left eye twitched. Megan thought he was about to explode.
    “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it