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    Woody and June versus the Ex: Woody and June Versus the Apocalypse, #4
    Woody and June versus the Ex: Woody and June Versus the Apocalypse, #4
    Woody and June versus the Ex: Woody and June Versus the Apocalypse, #4
    Ebook57 pages43 minutes

    Woody and June versus the Ex: Woody and June Versus the Apocalypse, #4

    By Robert J. McCarter

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    About this ebook

    Everyone's Got a Crazy Ex, Even at the End of the World

    When Woody Beckman meets June Medina, neither expects the adventures that will follow. Dedicated go-it-alone survivors, they've learned not to trust anyone in post-zombie-apocalypse Arizona… but that might just be changing.

    What's harder on a budding romance than the apocalypse, a horde of zombies, or a psychotic, petty, wannabe warlord? An ex, of course, one that doesn't let go easily.

    Now that they've found each other, can Woody and June survive the dreaded ex and escape the Grand Canyon alive?

    A story of adventure and love and taking things (even the apocalypse) in stride.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRobert J. McCarter
    Release dateJun 12, 2019
    ISBN9781941153123
    Woody and June versus the Ex: Woody and June Versus the Apocalypse, #4

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      Book preview

      Woody and June versus the Ex - Robert J. McCarter

      Chapter One

      I think June used to be an Army Ranger or something. Not that I know exactly what an Army Ranger is, and this being post-zombie-apocalypse Arizona, I can’t exactly look it up on my smartphone.

      She is lying on the sand, her hunting rifle propped up on her backpack, sighting a straggler from the zombie horde that chased us down into the Grand Canyon. We’re on a sand island in the middle of the Colorado River under the hot spring sun. We swam over two days ago to save our sweet, fresh brains. The Zs tried to follow but got swept downstream.

      I’ve given up on the idea of her being an Israeli secret agent with Mossad, despite her olive complexion and blue eyes. The little Spanish I’ve heard her speak is perfect, lacking the usual sloppy American accent. I can’t speak Spanish properly—I’ve got that sloppy American accent—but I know when it’s spoken properly.

      There, Woody, she says. Can you see it?

      I’m sitting next to her looking through my binoculars, trying desperately to focus on the beautiful desert landscape of the Grand Canyon and not on the gorgeous pixie woman lying next to me. Yup. I see it. One zombie tourist wandering around the— oh… he walks right into a prickly pear cactus and keeps on going, a couple of ‘em clinging to his leg. The poor guy lost his flip-flops, but at least he’s still got his fanny pack.

      I briefly considered that she might be a spy from Spain or Mexico—no idea what their intelligence agencies are called—but discard that too. She’s just too American.

      I can take him, she says, even though he’s at least a hundred yards off.

      So that leaves me with something like Green Beret or Army Ranger. Although the idea of ending up post-apocalypse with an international spy is rather… intriguing, the mystery of June is intriguing enough without that.

      Yeah you can, I say, but how about we save the ammo, and keep a low profile. We’re just downstream from some rapids, so we haven’t been worried about conversation attracting attention, but a gunshot definitely could.

      She nods and sits up, brushing the sand from her T-shirt. It’s hot, so she’s down to a T-shirt and undies, as am I.

      See why I’m distracted?

      We polluted the Grand Canyon with Zs, she says, shaking her head.

      I nod. Yeah. Sucks. I think a lot of them washed to shore after chasing us and are just wandering now.

      This is day eight of Woody and June versus the End of the World and our second day on this sand island. The trip down involved a lot of bushwalking, a lot of miles, and some very close calls. We’ve been resting and letting our blisters heal in this rare zombie-free zone.

      We can’t stay much longer. She nods at our packs, the food we scrounged at Desert View Lookout is running thin. What are we going to do, partner? She looks at me with those beautiful blues of hers and I just want to melt… or kiss her. Yeah, kiss her is definitely the choice.

      Our relationship has progressed nicely since we met up in Flagstaff. We’ve gone from wary, to saving each other’s lives, to trust, to officially being partners when we made it to this island alive. I think mostly because she doesn’t want to try to survive one more of my hair-brained schemes again without a discussion.

      Me? I want all the June I can get. Every day, year-round, give me June, month after month. She’s strong, smart, beautiful,

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