The
man coming up the block toward us in the hooded sweatshirt stopped directly in
our path, about ten feet away. The hood
dropped revealing his face. The hair on
the left side of his head had been shaved off revealing tiny bits of bony white
scalp. Huge staples held his crooked jaw
in place. There was a large indentation
in his forehead from some sort of blunt force impact. His left eye was covered with a milky, white
cataract, and the right drooped unnaturally into his cheek.
My
breath caught yet again. Standing before
us was a zombie.
‘LEAVE
US ALONE!” the zombie screeched. Then he
took off on a dead run and plowed into Alex with the impact a freight train.
Just
great, I thought. Hollyweird—where the
dead come out to play.
Zombies aren’t what the movies make them out
to be—slow moving, brain dead, brain suckers.
They’re the result of a raising gone bad. They can be strong, and fast, and very
dangerous. Also, a bite from a zombie
won’t make you a member of the living dead, although I’m sure it must hurt like
hell.
The
one that plowed into Alex was almost six feet tall and about seventeen years
old. He hit Alex with inhuman force,
propelling him backward. They slammed into a parked car that seemed to explode
on impact. The twisting metal and
shattering glass sounded like a horrible automobile accident. The car was totaled, and Alex was embedded
into the passenger side, like a toy soldier into a wad of Play Doh.
“Oh,
God!” I screamed.
Alex’s
eyes were closed. He wasn’t moving… but
the zombie was. He peeled himself away
from Alex and the wreckage.
“Zombie!”
I called at the top of my lungs. “I
command you to tell me who raised you and what you are doing here.”
The
zombie faced me, a puzzled look on his distorted face. It dawned on me he hadn’t known I was a
necromancer until then—not that it made a difference. He wasn’t bound to me so he didn’t have to
answer my questions. I was bluffing.
“LEAVE
US ALONE!” He screamed in response. He
started for me and a wave of fear rippled my gut.
“I
command you to stay back!” I called, but
my voice was cracking, my words lacked conviction. I took a few shaky steps backward. The zombie continued toward me.
Just
then the sound of twisting metal snagged both our attention. Alex’s eyes were open, and he was separating
himself from the wreckage. He shed the
automobile with the ease of a snake shedding an old skin. He began advancing on the zombie.
“What’s
going on down there?” We all looked up
and saw three men, all Johnny do-gooders, running up the block in our
direction.
“Leave
her alone,” one of them called.
The
zombie looked from the advancing men to Alex and me.
“Hhhhh!” Hot breath hissed angrily at us. Then he took off past us like a deer,
bounding up the block. By the time the
men reached us he was nowhere in sight.
“You
ok?” one of them asked.
“Yes. He… attacked us?”
“What
the heck happened here?” Another of the men asked. He was staring at the twisted pile of metal
that used to be a Buick.
Before
I could open my mouth, Alex launched into an explanation. “My girl and I were out for a stroll, and he
was taking a sledge hammer to that car when we happened upon him. Guess it was some kind of vendetta. And when he saw us he decided to add us to
the list.” The lie flowed from his lips
effortlessly.
“Hey,
aren’t you on that TV show?” the third man asked.
Alex
smiled. “The Beloved. Yes.
You watch it?”
“No,
but my girlfriend does. She can’t get
enough of you vampire guys.”
Any
suspicions the men may have had about our presence on the street or Alex
molesting me immediately vanished. Alex
was a bona fide Hollywood star. I guess
they thought all stars were boy scouts.
Where have they been?
Several
minutes and three autographs later the men were gone, and Alex and I were
walking back to the party.
“You
told that lie like you do it all the time,” I said.
“I’m a
dead person among the living. I do do it
all the time.”
That
wasn’t what I was talking about, but I didn’t push it. He seemed annoyed. I guess being attacked by a zombie wasn’t an
everyday occurrence for him either.
“If it
makes you feel any better, I memorized the car’s plate number. I’ll take care of the damage,” he said, his
words softening.
“Thanks. That does make me feel better.” I wanted to hold my tongue, but I
couldn’t. “So, you have any enemies
who’d want to send a zombie after you?”
“I
don’t have any enemies. I’m a lover not
a fighter.” The annoyance was back.
“Maybe
you loved the wrong woman.”
“I’m
dead. I can’t love any woman,” he
replied. The words were seething with
anger or pain. I couldn’t tell which.
“He
said ‘leave us alone.’ Who’s us?” I
asked.
“I
don’t know!”
He was getting agitated again so I dropped the
subject. But not without noting there
was more to Alex than he was telling me.
A vindictive zombie had been set loose in Hollywood. It was something I needed to look into along
with the deadie from the diner. My, my,
I was suddenly a very busy girl.
This is a Tour Wide Giveaway
10 Kindle copies of The Zombie Always Knocks Twice!
1 x Bewitching zombie prize pack contains: zombie bag, zombie zone caution tape, fake brains in a meat container (because what's a zombie prize pack without brains right), two rubber duckies, a large bloody hand print sticker, Bat Bite hand sanitizer, Halloween theme bottle stickers, a purple skull mug, and a Bewitching notebook, pen, and necklace.
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Another instance in which I wish I used Twitter to get those extra entries... but I maintain my steadfast desire to avoid that final timewaster! :-) This book sounds awesome - hoping I win one!!
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