Read Online Zombies in Love by Nora Fleischer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nora Fleischer
Ads: Link
dead.
He felt the sheet pull back from over his face, and was suddenly aware that he was naked under the sheet. Dead men weren’t supposed to feel shy.
“Huh,” said a woman’s voice. “It is you. And someone in Memphis gave you a job. That’s shocking. Remember that time you were supposed to cover the city council meeting, but you didn’t go, because you were passed out in the bathroom? They sent me instead. Even though I had a date.”
Did he remember this woman? She didn’t smell familiar, but there was something about her tinny Yankee voice that he thought he recalled. Which meant-- oh, God, maybe he had known her before he died.
Her hot minty breath seared his face. “Here’s what I always wanted to say to you. You’re a lazy hack, and you never would have written for the Palmetto if your parents hadn’t owned it. And one more thing--” He heard a rustle, and smelled her hot hand close to his face. “Say cheese.”
He sat up and struck the camera out of her hand. It fell to the floor with a crash. The woman stared at him in speechless shock. A skinny redhead with her hair pulled into a ponytail tight enough to yank the skin backwards.
“I remember you,” he said. “You’re Donna. Donna Chillingworth. You worked for us.”
“You’re dead!” she squeaked, frozen in place.
“Do I look dead?”
She backed up, but he grabbed her by the forearm. He felt like the core of his body had dropped twenty degrees, like he was filling with ice water. “You’re not going to tell anyone you saw me here.”
“You can't stop me. I don’t work for the Palmetto anymore.”
He squeezed her arm tighter and she gasped in pain. Could he do it? Could he hurt her, if it kept him safe? Because he was so much stronger than she was now, she wouldn’t stand a chance--
She pulled something out of her pocket. A cell phone. Click.
“This’ll be good enough,” she smirked. She pulled free and bolted for the door.
He leapt easily from the slab, leaving the sheet behind him, landing right next to her, and snatched the phone from her.
“I told you not to do that,” he said, and crushed the phone in his hand. He dropped the fragments to the floor.
Donna looked him levelly in the eye. “You owe me three hundred dollars.”
“I don’t have it on me.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” she said, her eyes bobbing down for a moment. “So. Why won’t you let me take your picture?”
She just didn’t stop, did she? Lisa, he thought, would have loved this little image. Here he was, buck naked, scars totally visible, being harangued by this No. 2 pencil of a woman. Why can’t you take my picture? he thought. Because the man you knew is dead, and I don’t want to be him anymore.
But then again , he reflected, maybe there’s a smarter way to handle this.
“You’re determined,” he said. “I admire that.” He bit off his own index finger and swallowed it.
Your own body never tasted as good as you'd think. Too chalky.
“Oh, my God!” she shrieked, but did not move.
“If you want to know, you have to watch,” he said, holding out the bleeding stump of his finger. Tiny blood vessels flailed around a projecting bone fragment, like vines around a growing tree, Spanish moss on a bough. A creeping sheet of skin covered the peeled thing. A fingernail protruded from the flesh. Good as new.
“How the hell did you do that?” asked Donna, staring at the finger. She gingerly touched it. “Cold.”
He picked up the sheet that he’d dropped and wrapped it around himself. “I was in a bar,” he said. “I had a dispute with someone, and he took me outside and killed me.” He smiled at her. “Surprised?”
“No.”
“Neither was I. I wasn’t surprised, until I woke up afterwards. Hungry.”
He ripped an ear off the nearest corpse and took a big bite out of it.
That was a mistake. He'd never
He felt the sheet pull back from over his face, and was suddenly aware that he was naked under the sheet. Dead men weren’t supposed to feel shy.
“Huh,” said a woman’s voice. “It is you. And someone in Memphis gave you a job. That’s shocking. Remember that time you were supposed to cover the city council meeting, but you didn’t go, because you were passed out in the bathroom? They sent me instead. Even though I had a date.”
Did he remember this woman? She didn’t smell familiar, but there was something about her tinny Yankee voice that he thought he recalled. Which meant-- oh, God, maybe he had known her before he died.
Her hot minty breath seared his face. “Here’s what I always wanted to say to you. You’re a lazy hack, and you never would have written for the Palmetto if your parents hadn’t owned it. And one more thing--” He heard a rustle, and smelled her hot hand close to his face. “Say cheese.”
He sat up and struck the camera out of her hand. It fell to the floor with a crash. The woman stared at him in speechless shock. A skinny redhead with her hair pulled into a ponytail tight enough to yank the skin backwards.
“I remember you,” he said. “You’re Donna. Donna Chillingworth. You worked for us.”
“You’re dead!” she squeaked, frozen in place.
“Do I look dead?”
She backed up, but he grabbed her by the forearm. He felt like the core of his body had dropped twenty degrees, like he was filling with ice water. “You’re not going to tell anyone you saw me here.”
“You can't stop me. I don’t work for the Palmetto anymore.”
He squeezed her arm tighter and she gasped in pain. Could he do it? Could he hurt her, if it kept him safe? Because he was so much stronger than she was now, she wouldn’t stand a chance--
She pulled something out of her pocket. A cell phone. Click.
“This’ll be good enough,” she smirked. She pulled free and bolted for the door.
He leapt easily from the slab, leaving the sheet behind him, landing right next to her, and snatched the phone from her.
“I told you not to do that,” he said, and crushed the phone in his hand. He dropped the fragments to the floor.
Donna looked him levelly in the eye. “You owe me three hundred dollars.”
“I don’t have it on me.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” she said, her eyes bobbing down for a moment. “So. Why won’t you let me take your picture?”
She just didn’t stop, did she? Lisa, he thought, would have loved this little image. Here he was, buck naked, scars totally visible, being harangued by this No. 2 pencil of a woman. Why can’t you take my picture? he thought. Because the man you knew is dead, and I don’t want to be him anymore.
But then again , he reflected, maybe there’s a smarter way to handle this.
“You’re determined,” he said. “I admire that.” He bit off his own index finger and swallowed it.
Your own body never tasted as good as you'd think. Too chalky.
“Oh, my God!” she shrieked, but did not move.
“If you want to know, you have to watch,” he said, holding out the bleeding stump of his finger. Tiny blood vessels flailed around a projecting bone fragment, like vines around a growing tree, Spanish moss on a bough. A creeping sheet of skin covered the peeled thing. A fingernail protruded from the flesh. Good as new.
“How the hell did you do that?” asked Donna, staring at the finger. She gingerly touched it. “Cold.”
He picked up the sheet that he’d dropped and wrapped it around himself. “I was in a bar,” he said. “I had a dispute with someone, and he took me outside and killed me.” He smiled at her. “Surprised?”
“No.”
“Neither was I. I wasn’t surprised, until I woke up afterwards. Hungry.”
He ripped an ear off the nearest corpse and took a big bite out of it.
That was a mistake. He'd never
Similar Books
